I, and my diving companion Evans, had remembered a stern warning we had received from close friends in Arusha that unless we came back with gallons of ulanzi, a local bamboo wine popular in the southern highlands. We could as well bid farewell to our friendships.
It rained cats and dogs, as the old saying goes. But we still had one task to undertake before seriously embarking on our road trip from Makambako to Morogoro on our way back to Arusha.
I, and my diving companion Evans, had remembered a stern warning we had received from close friends in Arusha that unless we came back with gallons of ulanzi, a local bamboo wine popular in the southern highlands. We could as well bid farewell to our friendships.
Now ‘ulanzi’ is a serious business in those parts of Bongoland. It is presumably very healthy. For what could be healthier than drinking fresh sap taped from freshly cut bamboo shoots. For that is what ‘ulanzi’ is. Apparently, it is only the bamboo shoots sprouting up on those plains and valleys in the southern highlands, which can produce this sweet local wine.
Some years ago I tried to replant some of the bamboo shrubs from these lands in Arusha. They grew up very healthy, but when I cut the fresh shoots, the sap which flowed from these fresh wounds was no ‘ulanzi’. It was something akin to water and obviously with no alcohol. No wonder, many a visitor to the southern highlands, incorporating Iringa, Njombe, Songea and Mbeya regions, is wowed by this miracle and will always say ‘blessed are ye, who live in these lands, which shoot up sweet wine from bamboo shoots.’ Now there are several varieties of this ‘ulanzi’. There is the day’s freshly taped ‘ulanzi’ which is very sweet and almost similar to sparkling wine or champagne in taste and colour. It is called ‘Nyamtuto’. If it stays a day or two longer it ferments and becomes much more potent and stronger. This is called ‘Mkangafu’. After that it becomes even more piquant and turns into some type of brandy. This is what most elders drink. And it is called ‘Mdindifu.’ To stay safe you and I should stick to ‘Nyamtuto’.
Back to the task at hand; we drove a 100 or so via Mafinga, a fast growing city in Mufindi district, and reached Mzee Malugila’s homestead, straddling the Tanzania-Zambia highway. His home is famed for its unadulterated ‘ulanzi’. He was not around. His children said he was attending a neighbours funeral. ‘ulanzi’ was, however, available. But it was the ‘Mkangafu’ and ‘Mdindifu’ type.
We were not prepared to take the risk and as we prepared to leave, there emerged Mzee Malugila, riding his bicycle with a barrelful of fresh ‘Nyamtuto’. He said he had briefly left the funeral to bring the fresh ‘ulanzi’ for his faithful customers who daily ferry it to his Dar es Salaam clients.
As he filled our share of four gallons, I sat on a bench and downed half a litre of this sweet and stimulating drink. It was enough to fortify me for the heavy rain storm which lay ahead. Luckily I was not the driver. Evans was driving.
The heavy rains began pounding us soon after passing Iringa town as we drove towards the treacherous Kitonga escarpment. It was as if they were sending us off. For three or so hours we endured these rains. That is until we entered the Mikumi Nations Park stretch where we came across several animals and troops of baboons.
But it was mostly baboons. All the baboons were totally drenched wet by the heavy rainfall. And now after it was over they all sat on the road warming their bald bottoms on the heated asphalt. It was then that I realised that unlike birds, which have their nests, rats and other rodents which have their holes to shelter in, baboons and monkeys have nothing notwithstanding their need for warmth and dryness.
The author is a veteran journalist and media consultant based in Arusha.
