A few days ago there was a letter on the floor of Rowland’s office. It was an invitation to Kapenda to witness the final of the Manozya sponsored football and netball finals. Kapenda is right on the Songwe River border with Tanzania. Rowland finds some fuel money and the Youth Office motorbike is soon dodging the potholes on a typical African dirt road. The road goes via Nkangwa and we meet Mr. Stalin Kabaye, an old friend from the 1999 football courses. He is as fit as he was back then always cycling everywhere with his trousers tucked in his socks. The road winds for thirty kilometres through some picturesque landscapes until we arrive at the Songwe River.

We have lunch at the Kapenda FP school Head’s house and Chief Mwabulambya is there as this is his area of authority. There are a lot of introductions and hand shaking. The netball eventually gets started. The big crowd is getting too close but the organisers have thought of this. They have given large sticks to a group of drunken and drugged up men in green and white striped shirts. The football final is between Manozya FC and Swallows FC. It is getting dark and just before full time the Swallows score an equaliser to make it 2-2. Extra time follows and then a very strange penalty shoot-out where the players are lined up on the half way line. The selected players run forward and without stopping or a referee’s whistle just take the penalty. Manozya win 5-4 on penalties and the celebrations start. For most of the game I had been out of the VIP tent in the crowd but this time we are trapped as the crowd dances and gathers in front of the trophy. The trophy is awarded and a few envelopes full of cash are waved about. It is almost dark by now and we still have an hour or so ride back. I just put my sun glasses on to shield my eyes from the dust and held on for the best. Rowland could just about see the road with the faulty head lights and we hit a few potholes hard for which I would suffer later. Going through my mind, as we sped through elephant grass closing in on us and at times when I had to jump off as we went steeply down and up from dry river beds, was Tim Butcher, writer of ‘Blood River’ who travelled across Eastern DR Congo on the back of Odimba’s motorbike. In reality his trip being much more dangerous than mine but I still enjoyed drawing comparisons.