Still in the Usambaras, we drive three hours to the remote town of Mtae, a small settlement on a mountain bluff which juts out over the Maasai plain, 1000 metres below.
The road seems to go on forever, our journey only interrupted by the small school children who dart on and off the road like will-o-wisps, materializing seemingly out of thin air, just long enough to yell, “jambo, wazungu !”.
At the end of a long, winding road, Mtae has an almost otherworldly feel to it. With a few houses scattered around dusty roads, shrouded in clouds, preternaturally quiet, it seems to exist in another dimension.
