Getting Out of Africa
After my climb of Kilimanjaro, I made my way back to Arusha. From here I
was heading for a rendezvous with Neil and Sara on Zanzibar, an island off
the east coast of Tanzania. I took the first morning "express deluxe" bus
from Arusha to Dar es Salaam.
An African bus station is certainly a site not to be missed. They can't
of course be organized in any manner. Basically you know your bus is
leaving the station, but so are 50 other buses. They don't depart from a
set spot, they kind of idle, lurch and circle around in a decidedly
chaotic manner. Street vendors wander from bus to bus, selling food,
drink, and super glue to the bus passengers. I found my bus with the help
of my taxi driver and another local "guide" (for a tip of course).
After circling Arusha several times, we were on our way, the smooth
musical musing of a French speaking African Casanova playing on the
onboard TV. It was rumored to be a six-hour trip to Dar, but that must
have been six hours Africa time. We had quite a few delays: the driver
got busted in a police speed trap, we had to wait 20 minutes while we
picked up a new passenger and figured out how to strap his moped to the
roof, the driver apparently needed to pick up some fruit and vegetables
for his wife at various markets along the way, things like that.
About ten hours later, we pulled into Dar. I had hoped to have time to
get some more travelers' checks at an American Express office and still
make the last ferry to Zanzibar. Despite a heroing run down the streets
of Dar, myself and a few other foreigners on the bus missed the last ferry
to Dar by 15 minutes. Plan B was to spend the night at the YMCA, across
the street from the American Express office.
I had already looked the Lonely Plant guidebook, I knew exactly where I
needed to go. Taxi drivers, charter boat captains, and random others
tried to engage me in a conversation as I walked out of the docks area.
My new technique was to ignore them, no eye contact, no talking, no
nothing. This seemed to work fairly well, I almost made it, almost. I
picked up a youth on the outskirts of the docks, he claimed to know the
right way to go, but his advice always disagreed with my Lonely Planet
guidebook, sorry buddy I'm going to have to go with the LP on this one.
Overall though, he was a nice guy, he gave me a hand drawn postcard when
we parted at the YMCA, I gave him my leftover food stuffs from the bus and
sent him on his way.
The next day I took the first ferry to Zanzibar, savings $10 on the ticket
by employing a youth for $1 to "guide" me to a company with a student
fare, sometimes they think they can help and they actually can. I chatted
with an Australian couple on the diesel fume-filled ferry. Australians
are always good fun to meet on the road, we joined forces for the day as
Neil and Sara were out on a spice tour of the island.
Zanzibar City is a fascinating place, it has a big old town section with
an impossible maze of narrow, irregular streets, mosques, elaborate
carved wood doors, and a veritable gold-mine of windows for my Windows on
the World coffee table book. We got lost and unlost several times,
sampling strange local food from street vendors (the Australian guy was
quite adventuresome).
Neil and Sara wandering the street of Zanzibar city.
I eventually, after several attempts, found the hotel Neil, Sara and I
were staying in. Neil and Sara returned from their tour, they had arrived
in Zanzibar just the pervious day. They were delayed in Dar while they
tried to get replacement airline tickets for Sara. On the bus from
Arusha, they had their day packs in the overhead bins above them. The bus
was stopped in Moshi to pick up more passengers, Neil checked the packs,
yep still there. Five seconds later, one pack had vanished. The thief
didn't get much else except the souvenirs Sara had bought in Vic Falls,
they sure must've been pissed to find a wood elephant and not the gold and
jewels we mzungus usually carry around.
Preparing my mask with the patented spit defogging agent.
The next day we went on a scuba/snorkeling trip with the Australians. The
reef around Zanzibar is quite nice and the visibility was excellent. We
did some curio shopping after the dive trip, always bartering the prices
down to or 1/3 original price. Neil and Sara eventually closed a package
curio deal with a vendor know as Mr. Cheapo, finishing their shopping
requirements. I went back to Mr. Cheapo the next day to negotiate my own
super duper deal.
Neil and the Australian hanging out in the water.
We visited the waterfront area for dinner, all the local vendors are out
selling fried squid tentacles, calamarie, sugar cane juice and other
interesting dishes. We met a young Tanzanian kid who followed us around
all evening. As far as we could tell, he had no ulterior motive, he just
wanted to practice his English, his dream was to go to America someday.
Our next day, we had a taxi take us to the south part of the island. Here
you can rent snorkel gear and head out on a boat to swim with the
dolphins. Our boat had to stop several times on the way out for spot
repairs to be made to our outboard motor. We finally reached an area with
dolphins, I jumped out and started the chase. Those dolphins make it look
easy, you can be swimming full bore after one while they lazily swim
along, toying with you, then they turn on the afterburners and they
disappear in the distance. I never got close enough to touch one, but I
got within a few yards.
We motored back to shore, helping tow another boat that was having engine
trouble. Midway our engine broke again, but by combining the parts from
both outboards, we managed one working motor, TAB
We stopped at the Jgunzi forest on the way back, saw an endangered species
of monkey and did some hiking in the lush tropical forest. We must of
annoyed the driver by staying so long, he drove like a madman back to
Zanzibar city. I don't know how fast we were going, our speedometer was
broken, but it was way too fast for the amount of people walking on the
road. We missed one bicycle by mere inches.
We took the diesel-fume-ferry back to Dar es Saalam. In Dar was stayed
with Neil's flatmate Simon. Simon's dad is the principle of the
international school. There is a whole expatriate community of westerns
that work at the Tanzanian embassies and aid agencies. Simon's family has
a car, complete with driver. We used the driver many times in the next
few days, making multiple trips to the British Airways office to try and
get Sara a new airline ticket. We were finally successful the morning of
her flight.
View from the hammock.
On our last day in Africa we took a dhow over to a beach island. We
rented a little grass shelter, complete with hammock. We relaxed all day-
dozing, swimming, playing frisbee, and boogie boarding. Neil and Sara
flew home the next day, while I had to wait one more day for my flight.
On the ride to the airport, I realized I was sick of Africa. The sight of
all the people, bikes, cattle, roadside shacks, it just started to annoy
me. Culture shock on the last day, pretty convenient timing, makes it
easy to leave. I sat at the Dar airport, waiting and waiting for my
flight. I was pretty down on Africa when a Tanzanian business man sat
down near me. He greeted my in Swahili, I responded with what little
Swahili I had learned.
He was an interesting guy, working for the agricultural ministry, going to
Amsterdam for 3 months of classes. He had a leather handbag, that was his
luggage, all of it. He laughed, "You mzungus always carry around so much
stuff", pointing at my big checked bag and carry-on. Yeah, I guess we do;
spare batteries, sun cream, insect repellent, sterile syringes,
clothesline, a hundred other "necessities". What would it be like to
head off to a distant land carrying just a small handbag? No space ship
of western essentials. Thanks for the inspiration buddy.
In the bat of an eye, sand dunes and street vendors disappeared. I gazed
out my airplane window at the north-woods of Wisconsin. Not much longer
now. Two months, but it seems like I've been gone a lifetime.
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