Rain and a Lonely Stylus in Dar

Blimey, what a surprise. I'm on the flight back from sleepy Dar Es Salaam and I wasn't bitten once! I can't wait to get back and get off the up to nine tablets I've been waking up to every morning. I've been adding chloraquin, prognaguil, probiotics and vitamin C to my regular medication. The anti-malarials always drive me slightly mad.

In the evening on the way from the airport to sleepy Dar, a less than sleepy young man stole my mobile. It was my own stupid fault. I was in the back of a taxi on the way to the Kempinski Hotel with another person who was sharing the cab and sitting in the front seat. He had the a/c turned up to 11, so I opened the window to let some warm air in while I absent mindedly played solitaire on my phone. At the first junction we stopped at, a hand came through the window and grabbed my phone out of my lap. I managed to grab his wrist, but it happened so fast. All the cars at the junction were leaning on their horns, but the hand shook free and was gone. I was left sitting there holding my phone's stylus. It was all over in around 30 seconds. After I'd checked in, I went straight to the local police station to report the "lobberly" (as it's pronounced in these parts). While the duty officer took my statement (including asking my tribe - I said "English". I wanted to say my usual: "the Lost Tribe of "PortoStralia", but no one likes a smart arse) a plain clothes policemen, who MUST have watched Serpico - he had the look down, including the beanie hat - brought in three sullen looking boys who were selling counterfeit DVDs - so that's African anti-piracy in action.

Anyway, the whole process was done as neatly and maybe even more quickly than if I'd reported it in London.

The Kempinski's really beautiful, if slightly anonymous, in the style that could be called Quality International Hotel (Muted) - sanded bamboo floors, lots of dark wood and outsized cream tiled walls. The view's beautiful too, and in no way anonymous, overlooking the sea and the port, with a swimming pool on the mezzanine roof.

I went to WaPi at the British Council in Dar. The graffiti's the best of any of the WaPi's I've been to yet, and the Council allowed one of the walls outside their compound to be painted so instead of their logo standing dark blue on a plain white wall, it's kind of hidden amongst a riot of colours. It looks great. Self assured and confident (like the BA tailfins of the late 90, which I loved, but some railed against - like when Mrs Thatcher theatrically covered one with handkerchief). I met the WaPi board and we talked about their ambitions and plans. Then the rain started. I've never ever seen rain like it. It CHUCKED it down. Within an hour, the garden and walkway to the side of the building (which was due to be decorated by the graffiti artists) was around six inches deep in water. The board took the decision to move the whole even inside, into the British Council's auditorium. By the time the event was due to start at 3pm, only around 50 people had come, with lots of music performers and costumes and models for the fashion show still missing. I had a chat with the board and we decided to squeeze what we had into an hour, and see if more people, performers and costumes managed to battle through the (by now) choked, flooded roads. If they came, we'd tack them onto the end of the programme, and run the event for as long as we had material. If they didn't, we'd stop after what we had had gone on. But people came. By around 5pm, there must have been around 600 people packed into the auditorium and outside. The graffiti artists took their shoes and socks off and painted the wall ankle deep in water, the fashion show snaked through the auditorium and kept going until all the costumes that kept coming throughout the afternoon had been shown. The organisers: Evans (logistics), Kemi (fashion), Kate (BC Director) and Zavara (er, kind of feel good vibesman) were pleased. I thought they pulled off a great event. I really enjoyed it. I suppose I was also struck that an audience (I'd guess with turnover, more than 800 people had come in the end) came at all. People seem to really love the event.

So that's it for a bit round Africa. I've had a really great time. I think that the offices in Nairobi, Accra, Lagos, Kampala and Dar Es Salaam are set up to crack on with Creative Lives (which at the moment is going to be called "The Creative Entrepreneurs' Programme", but we'll see if that sticks!). I'm really looking forward to helping secure some great partners for the project in the UK. Chris Smith's already agreed to meet me to talk about the Clore programme being involved, and I'm meeting the Royal College of Art and London School of Economics, and I'm due another meeting with Somerset House. If the project goes the way it's supposed to, a lot of people's lives will have been improved - with more people making money doing the things they love. And that can't be bad.

Notes on Kampala (from Nairobi in transit)

After a brief trip back to London to chair the BBC Performing Arts Fund Urban Bursary auditions (the best so far - really great, impressive people. The nominators did us proud!) I'm back in Africa, but East this time.

I first went to Kampala in 1999 for the British Council. At that time I'd visited around half a dozen African countries. Although the trip came to nothing (the BC pendulum was swinging in the "no arts" direction that year), I was really struck by the beauty of the city. It's built on hills - 7 apparently, like Rome, Lisbon or Sheffield(!). It's a really verdant place. Maribou Storks hang around like gangsters in the trees that line the streets of red red earth. On my short visit in '99 I thought it was my favourite African city. Nine years and another half dozen countries later, I think it still is. It's not just the surroundings, it the people. Friendly, confident, proud. I was in the city to work with the team to identify who should be on the WaPi advisory board for events that are due to start in July or August. I met some really impressive people: designer and music entrepreneur Geoffrey Ekongot; singer songwriter Tshila; and, probably the person who impressed me most, Abramz of the Uganda Breakdance project. We went to one of his regular classes held in the open air one evening. There was around 80 to 100 young people divided into 4 or so "classes" of different levels. One was working on up-rock, one on foot-rock, another on floor work (learning windmills). It wasn't only the level of the "students" that was impressive, it was Abramz as a teacher. He's a really good dancer (but didn't seem to be a "pace-setting" type of teacher) - infinitely patient and good humoured. He'll definitely be a key part of WaPi in Kampala. I was accompanied by the artistic force behind WaPi in Dar Es Salaam - Zavara. Zavara's a Tanzanian rasta who (like Blaze) is a natural people-person. He's got time for everyone. All too often, too much time. We had to drag him out of every meeting we had as he wanted to talk and talk and we literally had to push him into the car to catch his flight home. James, our driver, later told me that Zavara had not only missed his flight, but had wanted to stop to take pictures of the lake on the way to Entebbe. James told me Zavara didn't seem bothered in the slightest. He left him in the check-in area, talking to four new friends that he'd picked up in the queue.

So Dar Es Salaam next, to see WaPi in action tomorrow. I'm really looking forward to it, though not the mosquitos (pronounced "mos-kwee-toes" in these parts) they bit me to ribbons the last time I was in Dar - they're vicious. The bite you through your jeans!