13 SEPTEMBER 2011

TANZANIA– Country number 19 – TANZANIA

MTWARA, SOUTHERN TANZANIA

Up bright and early, 4am after a good night’s sleep to catch an elusive transport to the frontier. Leaving behind the bananas that won’t survive a trip with the pensao manager, I head out into the new morning looking forward to crossing the border today. There is a security guard wearing khaki coloured pants and shirt, carrying a rifle, must be a security bloke right? Who advises me not to stand in front of the shops but to move further down the road, where he can keep an eye on me because “Palma no good”. Watching the sun rise in yonder east, I use the last of my Mozambique credit to give Terry a quick call and for the first time in nine months he calls me back!!! We chat and he fills me in on the recent Tanzanian ferry sinking, with over 200 people drowned. I tell him that I will know after Dar es Salaam which way I will come home as I hope to get some plans and dates firmed up, especially for Ethiopia.

Not only have I returned to African lands of mosquito nets, but also Islam. A chap in kanzu (white robe worn as an outer layer for prayer) and kofia (embroidered linen cap) walks past and asks “where are you going”. I tell him the frontier and he tells me I ‘should not wait there, come with me’. Fair enough too, I think and I follow him to the one road out of town where there at least a dozen folk all waiting for the elusive transport to the border. I start chatting to try and find out what they know and one fellow tells me that someone told him three cars have already gone to the border this morning – I’m shocked at this news and tell him I’ve been waiting longer than an hour and nothing has gone past yet. “But one car went at 1am” he tells me – 1 AM!! Are these people out of their cotton picking minds? Why on earth would you want to reach a border at 2am?? If anyone else can fathom it out, please tell me because even after all this time I still remain none the wiser as to wait makes some of these transports and times tick! I question my new friend about the river crossing and he assures me that it is very low and ok “but when it rains the water is very difficult and takes over an hour or two to cross”. This reassures me and before you know it he’s hopping on the back of his son-in-law’s motorbike to get to the border and I start to think I will may checking in back at the pensao again when our hopes are raised by a landcruiser pulling up – its full but people are getting out and I’m told to ‘get in’ they have saved a seat for me. And off on another roller coaster ride hanging on but at least the door I’m sitting against closes unlike the other door that will not close and occasionally gets kick shut by the blokes hanging on for grim life outside, one of whom gave up his seat for me. After a couple of hours (and passing te motorbike) we arrive in Namoto for Immigration and then a customs check where I had to open my pack for a fairly thorough search! No problems though and while I’m waiting for the rest of our passengers to clear border formalities a local lad approaches me with a reasonable offer for my Mozambique meticais which I accept. Then he offers me a boat ride over the river for a price. Not very cheap but not too pricey (he’s already made a tidy profit on the cash exchange) and he seems nice enough so I agree. When we are all cleared immigration and customs there is another half hour drive to the river where all hell breaks loose on our arrival. My young chap motions me aside, gets my pack, rounds up his mate and we’re first off across the river. I am reasonably happy with this so far and check to see if others are actually following us in case we are headed somewhere different where I don’t want to go – bugger being always suspicious. The river is so, so low we beach on sandbanks a couple of times, requiring the guys to get out and push the canoe. When we do land, it is at a bank in the middle of the river so we then proceed to have to WALK across the centre of the Rovuma River because it is so, so empty. And there I was worrying about the crossing when I am walking across its muddy flats for ages. We reach another river crossing and here a couple of kids with even smaller canoes are there waiting (instead of being in school). We all three climb on board one of the canoes when his mate thought it would be are a hoot to rock the boat severely so as to nearly toss all of us out. The blokes I was with were angry and when we landed I really growled at our poler – not his fault madam, but I figured if I told him off enough he wouldn’t be so keen to let his stupid mate do it again for a laugh. These boys would have been lucky to be ten years old, with no educations, regard or respect for anyone. Frontiers are tough places with parents who have you working as soon as they can, forget about school or any other hopes you may have as you grow up. We walk some more and at some stages I get piggy backed across watery muddy bits and I certainly feel a real goose. Then there are the muddy slippery bits which for those that know me very well, can just see me on my arse in it. Careful madam, careful madam they say. Eventually we reach the outpost and I’m second to the car which means I get the second seat INSIDE the matolo!! Who hoo, now I feel like a queen, especially with all the piggy back rides I got today to save my precious feet from becoming too wet! They can take as long as they like to fill this truck because I have a seat and shade and I made across the border with very little hassle.  Soon enough we’re off and reach Kilambo, enter Tanzania and I get a 3 month entry for $50, no hassle, no questions asked which was wonderful because I had kept worrying that perhaps the rules may have changed.  We are then driven all the way into Mtwara, making me as happy as Larry especially when the driver is kind and offers to drop me right at the Lutheran Centre when get to town – so thoughtful and a nice introduction to Tanzania. The rooms at the Lutheran are clean and mosquito netted so after my early start and energetic border crossing it’s time for a nana nap for a couple of hours under the fan to let the midday sun cool off. Heading into town around 3pm I manage to find my way to a bus garage to inquire about tickets onwards up north. Not here and soon a boy comes out to guide me to the bus station where I buy a ticket and confirm the 5.30am reporting time – yuck. I wander some more to find St Pauls, a church reputed to have ‘impressive artwork’. After a few lucky guesses and turns about town I find the church, ask the priest if I can visit and find the art somewhat uninspiring even if slightly retro. More like biblical murals around the walls, it would have been very modern in the 60s when it was painted by a German Benedictine priest. Back to the market to get a new sim card for my phone and I’m feeling very happy getting things accomplished so how about some dinner at a bar near the Lutheran Centre? I try Tanzania’s Kilimanjaro beer but find it a bit ‘hoppy’ but there are other local brands to try like Safari and Serengeti– are you finding a certain theme here? Food offerings are very limited at the bar – fried shrimps and chipsie. OMG has all of Africa converted to chips? I take the chips and give the fried egg a miss. Back to the Lutheran centre, I head off to the loo with my room key which is attached to a big wooden holder but as I lock the loo door and turn around I hear a certain tinkle, tinkle and watch my room key slide off the wooden keyring and all the way into the toilet – a hole in the floor style loo too. I quickly decide that there is no way I am going to even try and retrieve it so I go back out to the bloke at reception and tell him as clearly as I can that I have lost my room key down the toilet. He understood key, lost and toilet quickly and handled the news quite well really. It sent him on a long search for a duplicate key, coming back a few times with handfuls of keys to try and eventually third time lucky he got the door open. He tried it again on the inside and as it was bit dicky, I gave it a go and it worked ok – oh happy days again. Later he returned with his telephone number in case I got stuck inside the locked door, very thoughtful of him eh?

Next morning I travelled on a VERY scary bus ride to Dar with Ng’itu Express – I would advise anyone NOT to take this bus service to or from Mtwara – there is every chance you may die!! The driver drove like a madman – to keep up with the bus in front I was told, because he wants to be first to Dar! First to his bloody grave, I thought especially when there were two separate occasions he almost lost control after overtaking other traffic (read going even faster) then swerving to avoid a head on accident. I shared my death bench with Juma, who studies IT (what else?) in Mtwara and was going up to Dar to visit his aunt. Nice to talk to and he was always reminding me that ‘this road is very bad’ and ‘we have been on this bad road for one hour now”. Hmmmm Late afternoon we get into Dar es Salaam and into very heavy traffic with more roadworks and Juma suggests that because I am heading into the city I should get out at an earlier stop and get a taxi ather than spend more time in the traffic heading further out from town to the bus station, Umbongo. Great advice and soon enough I’m in a taxi that pulls into petrol station after petrol station in a search for fuel. Then we tackle very heavy traffic into the centre of town.

FACT: Tanzania has been hailed as the only country in the world to have conducted a special study on children in detention facilities and for this it will be named as a good example during the next UN General Assembly in New York.  I thought it might be nicer to get the 491 surveyed kiddies out of the 65 detention centres or determine how to keep them out of there in the first place…..