[Emilia Torrini – Jungle Drum]

One of my collegues writes me from Switzerland. She hopes I don’t have to do to much work so I can discover this unique island. I don’t know how I could discover this unique island without my work.
Waking through the backstreets of Kinyasini suddenly a quad tour of a near by hotel passes by. Starring and disbelieve. Here are supposed to be little black children waving at them not some pale, blonde dude in torn trousers with a notebook in his hand.
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While I am sitting in the shadow on the side of the road chewing some sugarcane and chatting up a local, a taxi passes by. Behind the window a camera lens, behind the camera a tourist watching the scenery passing by on the little preview screen.
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For displacing some 30 cubic meters of earth Daniel organizes the local football team from the next village. One day leaving the construction site they give me a ride. Imagine 20 young men on a mini trasporter, hardly fitting yet drumming and singing and turning it in to a party at 90 [km/h].

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One evening we leave Matemwe in the evening. Its a small transporter with two covered seats and an open cargo area and we are 5 people. Off course I jump on the back. Hassini protest I have to sit in the front. Hapana, Hapana. I’m fine. I want to sit here. Okay but then he wants to sit on the cargo area as well. Omar starts driving. I protest. But now Omar is alone in front. The car stops, the door opens and Omar joins us in the back. For a moment we are five grown men sitting on the back of a transporter with running motor and no driver. Then everybody cracks. I offer to drive but Omar and Hassini are already taking their places in front. As the transporter pulls away from the shore an orange colored full moon rises from the Indian sea.
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Off course this is before I meet Furaha. She is asian. We are an odd couple but we are getting along better and better. Lots of heads turn our way. Before me there was a Brazilian guy. But he didn’t give her much attention and now he is leaving the country anyway. She hums vividly as we fly over the dusty asphalt road. The first time we went out together she snapped at me. Twice. I wanted to know what she was made of and pushed to hard. Full throttel in the fith gear. Snap, jumping to 10000 rpm and no traction. I calm her down. Back to 4th gear. Lets try this again. Since the boundries are set we are getting along just fine. Just adjusting to each others temper.
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I named her Furaha. The kiswahili word for Happiness. She opens up a whole new dimension to my stay here. The things I can freely explore now are expanded, the way I organized my day more flexible. I sing to her very loud and off tune while driving. She does the background. A weird duett. Anyway sometimes I do miss being squeezed into a dalladalla, or huming jingle bells while driving with Daniel in the car. But thats all still possible. Furaha is not very possessive. I just have to invite her for a drink every 200 kilometers.
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