Week 3

We flew out of Durban, connected in Johannesburg for the flight to Dar Es Salaam, (aka Dar) Tanzania’s port city on the coast of the Indian Ocean. A 4.5 hour flight, we arrived at 7:30pm and it was as hot and humid inside the airport as it was out. The whole visa thing was a joke, 8 wickets with only 2 people serving a whole plane load of people. Took us an hour and 50USD each before we got out of there, fortunately our prearranged ride sent by the campsite where we were meeting up with our safari group, did not abandon us.
Wow, what a culture shock East Africa is so different compared to prim proper SAfrica. The night streets of Dar es Salaam was rundown, noisy, full of erratic traffic, horn honking and people everywhere. If you didn’t know where you were you’d think you were somewhere in the middle east. It was close to 10pm by the time we pulled in, and were met by our tour leader Malu , a lovely S.African woman who was staying in one of the campsite tents along with the others. Not quite ready to start pitching a tent, I had prebooked us into one of the beachfront cabanas about 200 paces down a very long sandy path. Primarily a backpackers retreat, we looked out of place dragging our non cooperative pull along luggage down the loose sandy trail leaving deep plow marks leading to our cabana.
Following our luggage trail, we were able to retrace our way to the main entrance where the bar was to meet up with Malu for a quick briefing and to meet the rest of the group. It turned out that this safari was 56 days long with various enter and exit points, and we were joining in on day 42. At this point, the group had dwindled down to 13 from 28 which meant there was sufficient room in the truck for our tourist size luggage next to all the backpacks. We had known that this safari was a grass roots version for all ages, but we were surprised to see that with exception to Malu who is 42, they were all in their mid 20s. Roy figured if he doubled the eldest’s age, he would still be older, followed very closely by me! The plan was to meet at the truck for camp style breakfast at 7, then head to the ferry in Dar to go over to Zanzibar for 3 nights. Recommendation from Malu to us was to ditch the wheeled luggage and just take what we needed for the 4 days in a carryon. Good advice!
After a hot and sweaty rather, sweaty, sleepless night in the ginormous netted platform bed, we were awakened for the last time at 5am by the distant Islamic “call to prayer” chant. I managed to rearrange our gear into a carryon and off we headed down the sandy trail leaving yet another plow mark behind us. We went into the campsite where breakfast making was in full swing, headed by the cook Moses and assisted by the others. It was obvious that the group had been travelling together for awhile given the organized manner of slicing and dicing, dishwashing, setup and tear down. Every person has a rotational chore based upon their designated animal name. One day, Jackels are sou-chefs, whereas Lions have dishes duty and Monkeys will clean the interior of the truck. After breakfast and clean up, all gear is packed into the military style truck fondly called “Tilly” who would drive us only as far as the ferry in Dar, and would remain there (with the unecessary luggage) until our return from Zanzibar in 4 days.
Zanzibar island is about 40k off the coast and is a 2 hour foot passenger ferry ride. Although part of Tanzania, the island has arms length independence which means they require all foreigners to have enter and exit stamps so we arrived 1.5 hours earlier so Malu could deal with the authorities on our behalf. We had an hour to kill in Dar, which in the daylight was worse than what we’d seen the night before. Could have been just the area we were in, but given the heat, all we managed to check out was the nearest ATM and a store for bottled water then quickly head back to hide under the designated meeting point tree for 45 minutes until sailing time. Predominantly an Islamic culture, all women are required to cover our shoulders in public and the additional shrowding, although with just a sheer shawl, made it even hotter for me. How they do it I don’t know. Roy too was perspiring profusely, so much so that when we returned from the 15 minute ATM walk, he had to change out of his sweat stained grey Tshirt under the tree. Looked like he’d been working in the fields all day.
Embarking on the ferry was like a cattle call, people from all walks of life, even a young man dressed in a traditional Masai tribal outfit all racing for the best of the 120 forward facing theater style seats on the economy deck. To keep us entertained, the TVs along the front quite appropriately played the old 60s movie, Born to be Wild, followed by Mr. Bean episodes. The one thing we’ve noticed during our travels is that no matter how primitive the surroundings or appearance, most everyone has a cell phone.
Zanzibar Island is 95% Islamic having originally been settled by Arabs. There we were met by a bus and dropped off at a hotel in Stone Town where everyone else was staying for one night only before heading up to the north coast for the other 2 nights. Since the Zanzibar portion wasn’t part of the prepaid tour, I had decided that we would spend all the time up the north coast area called Nungwi just so that we could stay put for 3 nights. Based on the reviews on Trip Adviser, I decided against the hotel the rest would be staying at (more hostel like) and booked us at a “resort” about 10 minutes away. After an hour taxi ride through some incredible road side Swahili & Arabic villages made of red clay, we checked into our thatched roof cabana at Tanzanite Beach Resort where at first, it appeared we were the only guests. Odd we thought, maybe the others are out exploring. Anxious to cool off, as fast as we could get our bathing suits on we were down at the water only to find that we were on a coral reef not sand. Good thing I brought aqua sox, but the coral was too slippery to walk on so we had to go down the shore about 5 minutes to find sand. I guess “beach resort” doesn’t mean “sandy beach resort”. But, believe it or not, the water was actually too warm, 28/29, absolutely nothing refreshing about it to the point that all it did was wet you to allow the breeze to cool you down when you got out. As well as being deserted, we were disappointed to discover the place didn’t have a pool, but best not to complain we decided, it was otherwise a beautiful setting. At dinner 4 tables had been set up on the sand next to an ambient burning fire pit, then soon after, all 5 other guests showed up. True to our experience thus far, being European they kept to themselves despite Roy’s efforts to make conversation.
Next morning we decided to rent a scooter or a motorcycle and go explore the island. Reception obviously made arrangements through a local who was merely renting out his own bike, and between an assortment of issues including the gas tank being empty and the chain needing to be tightened it took 4 hours before we actually got on the road with the not exactly built for two, 250cc dirt bike (which turned out to be a good thing). We had to pick it up in the area where the rest of the group was staying, so we got to check out the location I didn’t choose based on “hostel” rating. Whereas our spot was eerily void of people, had no beach or pool and really really bad overcooked food, theirs had a beautiful sandy beach, several eateries, 24 hr beach bar, merchants, water sports, and lots of people milling about. Although there were other places to stay, true to the ratings, I’m glad I hadn’t booked where the others were staying.
We ended up putting on 80k travelling (which our butts severely paid for) along some intense one lane paths of heavy sand through several tiny villages of a dozen or more dwellings tucked in between tourist accommodations. People were very friendly, mostly dressed in traditional Islamic attire, children waving and shouting out either “Jambon” or “Ola” both a greeting in Swahili. The only unfortunate part of the day was not being able to take any photos of the people or their surroundings because of the Islamic belief that you take away their soul. Even the cop who set up a block to check for drivers licences wouldn’t let me take his picture, and when I pulled out my camera to take a picture of Roy helping push out a truck stuck in mud, two little kids next to me who thought I was going to take their picture, had waived No to me.
On the drive back to our non-resort, we stopped in at the one next to us called Ras Nungwi. Here we were looking like a pair of rif-raf coming in from a day of dirt biking all dusty and sweaty, but they let us in regardless. Now this was a real resort – lots of guests, a sandy beach and wonderful pool that I very quickly helped myself to while we had a couple of drinks poolside to whet our sandy whistle. We contemplated coming back for a real nice dinner on our last night, but once back at our place we felt guilty as it looked like they were down to only 2 couples remaining. But it turned out that 5 more had checked in – a group from California working as consultants to improve fisheries in Zanzibar, which meant we probably wouldn’t have been missed.
Our last day, Roy booked us for a 9am dive so we gingerly hopped onto the bike after breakfast and headed over to party central where most people were just going to bed. At the last moment I decided not to join in on the dive, to make it my one, undisturbed beach day. As it turned out, Roy didn’t rate the dives very high and told me how they had lost one guy who had surfaced early due to ear problems but when the rest came up he was nowhere to be found! Apparently he didn’t see the boat when he surfaced and the current drifted him away so much so that he couldn’t be seen. Fortunately another dive boat in the area saw him bobbing around and picked him up and returned him to safety.
We thoroughly enjoyed our very short time on Zanzibar and wished we’d had more time, especially to do the hour plus drive back down the coast to tour Stone Town, which everyone does upon arrival. But alas we met up with the group next morning for the drive through the town we didn’t see back to the ferry for the mainland. Once at the ferry I had discovered that I inadvertently threw away the ticket Malu gave us on the way there thinking it was one way not return. Because she had to deal with immigration once again on behalf of the entire group, chances were that there wouldn’t be enough time to get us new tickets since they aren’t bought at the ferry, but at an office 4 blocks away. Worse comes to worse we’d have to handle it ourselves take a later ferry and find our own way back to the campsite in Dar. To start the ball rolling, I talked to several ferry officials who were talking on their cells to other officials, all trying to find the ships manifest that would confirm return passage had been paid by Malu on our arrival day. After 40 minutes of passport shuffling and phone calls, they still didn’t have confirmation but they let us on just as the horn was blowing. One good thing about being the last ones on we got to sit upstairs in first class for an extra $20, no different than economy, just half the people, this time all watching the movie Congo .
So back at the same campsite where we first arrived, again we upgraded to the cabana again but this time we didn’t drag the roll along luggage through the sandy trail, just left them in “Tilly” and worked out of the carryon instead. But we laughed to see remnants of our first plow marks still marking the way.
It was a 5 am wake up call, and on the road by 6 for what turned out to be a brutal 12 hour ride to Arusha with one toilet break in the morning and a road side lunch. To keep things fair, there was a pre established order to where you sat on the truck. Every day you rotate 2 rows and with the group having dwindled to half its size, all those who joined long before us now had a row to themselves, (except for us), and were promptly asleep within 2 minutes of departure and pretty much throughout the whole trip. Whilst bobbing around 2 rows from the back of the bus we managed to see Tanzania pass by which is predominantly rich red soil farm land of sisal, wheat, corn, rice and coffee interspersed with towns and villages. A few hours after passing Mt Kilimanjaro whose top half was covered in cloud and therefore unseen, we finally arrived at a Masai campsite called Snake Park just pass Arusha, for our 1st official night of sleeping in a tent. We got there just at dark so setting up the tent was a bit of a fumble act, but we managed to get it up in time for Roy to assist Moses in making dinner. He was on salad duty, which was quite comical since he’d never used a vegie peeler before! After dinner Roy went to the campsite bar with the others in an attempt to try and bond with the group whereas I was bagged from that 12 hour ride and hit the tent soon after dinner. It was going to be another busy morning and I wanted to get some serious shut eye.
Next day we weren’t hitting the road until after lunch, so we all went into the town of Arusha for banking and grocery shopping for personal munchies and water. Malu gave us an hour and we spent the entire time scouring ATMs that would give us money and a bank that would cash travelers cheques. After 45 minutes in a bank line up and 5 minutes before our time was up, I finally get up to the teller who informs me she can’t cash them without the original purchase receipt, which of course I didn’t have with me because according to the instructions it was to be kept in a separate location. Meanwhile Roy found a machine that worked for his debit card raced back to the truck to tell them to pick me up along road side, which they did. Banking system in Africa is quite different, not all banks accept travelers cheques and ATMs are usually designated either Visa or MC but not both.
We arrived back at the campsite just in time for lunch and to take a peek at the Masai auction that was being held in an open arena next to the campsite. Masai people are strictly herds people/shepherds tending to their cattle only. They eat only red meat from domesticated animals, consider the ground sacred and therefore do not cultivate. So what they do once a week is bring their prized cow or goat out to the auction, and with the money buy the other necessities of life. The auction was quite a sight – thousands of Masai and livestock all milling about. Between the campsite and the arena there were a few huts with a Masai woman sitting outside one selling her wares. I asked permission to take her picture, which I could for a dollar, as well as having to go into her boutique hut. Masai is another group who do not like their picture being taken, so I was glad to have had the opportunity.
After a quick peek at the auction we ran back to take down our tent as we were about to be picked up by Land Cruisers to go to the Noronogoro Crater and Serengeti. Only half the group was going to both destinations, so we were in two six seaters with pop up roofs designed for game viewing. It was a 3 hour drive down a rich red dirt road to the campsite in Karatu on the edge of the Norongoro Crater. It was a lovely campsite, nice restaurant, bar, internet room, beautiful grounds, hot showers, and our group of 13 had the whole place to ourselves. Next morning was going to be a 6 am departure to be inside the crater for the morning game drive so Roy and I retreated back to our tent just before 9 pm to the distant sound of African drums. What a nice way to be lulled to sleep I thought, only to find out in the morning that it was live music and dance show not a CD playing from the bar! Everyone else was there except for us, being the old folks who go to bed early. Definitely a case of ‘you snooze you lose’!
Next posting: Norongoro Crater, Serengeti, Nairobi and Masai Mara
Til then,
KnR