Another day, another dollar, but this time I got to see just how many dollars our bank actually has. Spending a bit of time with banking services allowed me to go into the vault where they keep all those US dollars and Tanzanian shillings we take as deposits and lend out. Holding $160,000 in hundred dollar bills is quite fun, I'd have posed for a picture if it wouldn't look so unprofessional, or maybe used one to light a cigarette. As for the shillings, years of inflation mean that a modest sum of around £200,000-worth forms a massive cube a metre long. My skills came in handy, as most of the cashiers are female and I could help by carrying their bundles of money for them, as a gentleman does.
Entertainment for the week was varied: a Saturday company sports day saw me playing football under the equatorial sun, and my side getting thrashed, though in our defence we had fewer players than the opposition and I could barely run ten metres without oozing sweat and wheezing like an old man. Then there was the night out at the flagship club night in Dar, a monthly event at a hotel by the sea shore and the most expensive night I've seen here at £8 entry. A fun crowd, and the music ranged from some fairly good but too brief tech-house to commercial shit-hop... ah I do miss a really good music scene. Yesterday, drinks on the beach, our party including a very interesting fellow who I'd met last time in a rum-soaked poker game on the roof of a friend's apartment building. In a genius move my friend installed a poker table on his roof, allowing games overlooking the bay, and this high-stakes game had a 10,000 shilling buy in (about £4).
This particular guy was a very large white Seuth Efrican in his mid-forties, rugby player build, seemed genial enough and he'd told me he worked in security. Yesterday I was mentioning a particular bar that I'd hung out in a couple of times, that I heard was full of hookers and mercenaries. The hookers are self-evident (knee high boots and short skirts, and the bar has the seedy feel of a Pattaya go-go joint), but when I told him which bar I meant he dismissed the so-called mercenaries as 'wannabes'. Pressed a bit more about the nature of his security business, I got a run down on what it actually involved: 'Basically I kill people for a living'. Head of a private security company, hired by firms (shipping and the like) and governments to neutralise threats including pirates, rebels and so forth, for which they possessed planes and helicopters. I mentioned the film Blood Diamond that I'd seen a few days before, but he wasn't a fan: 'It made us look very bad', being of the opinion that the private security contractors brought in at the behest of the Sierra Leonian government had helped end the civil war and defeat the rebels who were responsible for the atrocities. A pragmatic fellow, one might say. A friend of a friend, and genuinely seemed like a good bloke, though obviously not one I'd ever tangle with. Someone interesting to have a drink with, though I'm a little dubious about the ethics of his line of work, but after all... TIA.
This is Africa!
Entertainment for the week was varied: a Saturday company sports day saw me playing football under the equatorial sun, and my side getting thrashed, though in our defence we had fewer players than the opposition and I could barely run ten metres without oozing sweat and wheezing like an old man. Then there was the night out at the flagship club night in Dar, a monthly event at a hotel by the sea shore and the most expensive night I've seen here at £8 entry. A fun crowd, and the music ranged from some fairly good but too brief tech-house to commercial shit-hop... ah I do miss a really good music scene. Yesterday, drinks on the beach, our party including a very interesting fellow who I'd met last time in a rum-soaked poker game on the roof of a friend's apartment building. In a genius move my friend installed a poker table on his roof, allowing games overlooking the bay, and this high-stakes game had a 10,000 shilling buy in (about £4).
This particular guy was a very large white Seuth Efrican in his mid-forties, rugby player build, seemed genial enough and he'd told me he worked in security. Yesterday I was mentioning a particular bar that I'd hung out in a couple of times, that I heard was full of hookers and mercenaries. The hookers are self-evident (knee high boots and short skirts, and the bar has the seedy feel of a Pattaya go-go joint), but when I told him which bar I meant he dismissed the so-called mercenaries as 'wannabes'. Pressed a bit more about the nature of his security business, I got a run down on what it actually involved: 'Basically I kill people for a living'. Head of a private security company, hired by firms (shipping and the like) and governments to neutralise threats including pirates, rebels and so forth, for which they possessed planes and helicopters. I mentioned the film Blood Diamond that I'd seen a few days before, but he wasn't a fan: 'It made us look very bad', being of the opinion that the private security contractors brought in at the behest of the Sierra Leonian government had helped end the civil war and defeat the rebels who were responsible for the atrocities. A pragmatic fellow, one might say. A friend of a friend, and genuinely seemed like a good bloke, though obviously not one I'd ever tangle with. Someone interesting to have a drink with, though I'm a little dubious about the ethics of his line of work, but after all... TIA.
This is Africa!
Very good. We are getting hooked on the blog
ReplyDeleteand waiting for a next chapter already.