Rock

If we have to go to the office on a Saturday to plough on then it’s made much more fun by my colleague Kolady piping Backstreet Boys and Celine Dion from the neighbouring room.

In the afternoon we had an incursion to one of the giant inselbergs that are dotted around Masasi town. There’s an aptly named guesthouse known as Rock City at the base of the biggest, which we used as a food pitstop. A lad from the restaurant then showed us the way up the rock, ignoring the much gentler incline around the rear (we realised later) in favour of a sheer and quite foolhardy ascent. To be 20 years old and an agile 50 kilograms…

I was grateful for shoes with good grip; my other colleagues didn’t make it up very far, as fitness isn’t a prized asset among NGO workers here. It was worth the scramble for views and sunsets at the top, which was an expansive area of rocky scrub with forested crevices. If I have to spend extended time in Masasi then scaling inselbergs will become a favoured pastime.

My legs were wobbly by the time I took the more sensible slow route down, accompanied by the restaurant lad (pictured) and barking baboons. My own fitness has been lagging of late, so this was a clarion call to not let it slide further. I don’t want to be daunted by an inselberg.