1 - 3 OCTOBER 2011

LAKE VICTORIA

Travelling north of the Serengati’s western corridor and the Grumetti River, it is lovely countryside with fantastic views right across the plains. I chat with three Masai on board the bus, who are headed to west Serengeti for work. We arrive at Musoma around 6pm, luggage is unloaded from the bus and Juro finds his pack has been soaked right through. Mine is a little muddy but not too bad considering. Immediately a local lass spots me, takes a shine to me and insists on taking me to wherever I want to go! We try the Stigma hotel, where Juro immediately takes flight because he can’t afford $12. I can, so up the stairs to dump my pack and head back out with my new friend to the bus company where she enquires on my behalf about a ticket to Mwanza in the morning. Here at the office, the bus leaves at 5.30am and from the bus station at 7.30am. I am in no rush especially when assured that there are plenty of tickets available. My friend assures me she will come in the morning to take me to the bus station and we walk back to her shop to share a beer there and meet her mother. Dinner that night is at a local bar with fish, shima, a local newspaper and plenty of folk who are mystified at my appearance there!

My new friend in Musoma

Next morning my friend is telephoning at 6am – she obviously doesn’t want me to miss the bus so is here already. By 6.30am we are out the door, checking with a couple of bus yards but continue on to the bus station on moto taxis. She puts me on the Mwanza bus, assures herself that I have a ticket at the right price before heading back to town – my shout. And that is the only payment she accepted! I still remain mystified why she decided to adopt me, but I was very grateful that she did. The Mwanza bus heads out of town on time and on board are the three Masai that I met the day before and we greet each other like old friends!! The countryside here is still green but becoming hilly but no glances of Lake Victoria as yet. At Bunda the Masai alight and they wish me well in my journey.  One hour later we arrive near Mwanza and the bus makes several drop offs around town. I have been quizzing my seat mate about where she is headed – Geita – on this bus. I start to understand that this bus will travel further westwards towards where I eventually want to go but turns off towards Bukoba in the north. The conductor wants to know where I want to go and after a bit of confusion and advice we work out that I can continue on this bus, get dropped at Bwanga and find other transport to travel onwards to Biharamulo. This will shorten my travel to the border tomorrow considerably. As the bus pulls in at the station in Mwanza, we take on more passengers for the trip to Bukoba, and head south towards the lake where I am again adopted by a lovely man who assures me that my planed route is sound and will get me to Biharamulo by the end of the day.

Ferry on Lake Victoria

But first we have to get across Victoria Lake by a vehicle ferry and one has broken down meaning that this one operating will be doubly loaded and twice as busy. I chat to a muzungu family on the ferry, South Africans now living and teaching in Geita. They assure me that this ferry is ok and again that my plans are ok – I do like to double check information I get just because! Its a safe crossing on Lake Victoria then back on the bus to head across the Tanzanian countryside. Many hours later we arrive at Bwanga, which is a tiny village, where I and my luggage are unloaded.  I ask here and there ‘Biharamulo’ and get directed around the corner and across the road where I find a car heading to Biharamulo that has just filled up – bugger. Then a young man dashes across the road and insists that they must take the mzungu. Now this car has three passengers and a driver in the front seats, four passengers across the bench seat and two passengers in the back. The driver relents and says if I can squeeze in at the back up to whatever town he said, I can get a seat the rest of the way. I clamber in without any ceremony because I want to keep heading west today and the last thing I want is to get stuck here. The road is dirt, dusty and red but I feel even sorrier for the many cyclists we pass, showering them each time with dust and stones. After about half an hour, we pull up, passengers alight and I get a quarter of the back bench seat – and I am a happy traveller again until we pull in at a small village where repairs are done to the car.  By the interest in me, I gather not too many mzungus get here and many, many children and adults alike find an excuse to slowly walk past and check me out! They are very shy and don’t really respond too well to being greeted so in the end I ignore them until eventually we get going again. The road is still atrocious, a deep red dust but as long as we move forward I am very happy. Eventually another long day finishes with a 6pm arrival at Biharamulo where I meet a lovely young man who immediately adopts me as soon as I step out of the bus park. He is very happy because he has received his second year results today and has passed well. He takes me around to a couple of guesthouses, sees me installed in White Lodge and then gives me a grand tour around town including the hospital, municipal offices etc. Dinner that night was ugali, great vegies, avocado salad and a Nile Perch head – memories of a movie I saw a few years ago – Darwin’s Nightmare that described the social and environmental changes being wrought by the introduction of the Nile Perch into Lake Victoria. One of them being that the fish fillet is exported to Europe, leaving only the heads and carcasses to sell at local markets.

Next morning I’m up early, eager to make a good start to get across the border and on to Kigali. At the bus park, I look for a shared taxi to ‘Rusumu’, find one with a young mum already on board, and within the hour we have enough passengers to head off.

Dumped literally the middle of nowhere on the way to Rwanda

BUT after an hour of travel and dropping passengers at their various destinations, there is only the young mum with baby and I left on board. So unless the driver can find more passengers on the way to Rusumu, he won’t make money. So he obviously decides to cut his losses, parks at an intersection and unceremoniously drops us there. In the middle of NOWHERE, to find more onward transport and we are a long way from where either of us wants to go. We are very unhappy about this bad treatment by the driver and locals try hailing a lift for the mzungu. Eventually a truck pulls up and offers me a lift right to the border as he is on the way to Congo. I climb on board and take a slow but sure way to Rusumu though the amazing hills of this part of the country that continues into Rwanda – the land of a thousand hills. Of course travelling in a truck on these beautiful hills is very slow going but I only see one other car pass us so I very grateful for this lift to the border. We stop for breakfast at a weighbridge parking along with the rest of the trucks who are driving this road and the driver deposits me at a shack café where I have the best cup of tea I have had for ages – piping hot too. After his paperwork is finalised, the driver collects me up again and we make the Rwanda border by 11am which is great with a bit more luck because I will definitely get to Kigali mid-afternoon to accomplish a few chores today.

FACT: Tanzania is very proud of its history of peace and in the main they are very kind and helpful, considering that tourists have been coming here for eons. But I found as a muzungu travelling in the backblocks that I was often accorded special privileges as a guest of their country that was amazing, if somewhat embarrassing. But I quickly learnt to graciously accept what was offered – be it a seat/place in a queue/advice/snacks/conversation - as to refuse or negotiate was impolite to those who were being hospitable to the visitor. I really enjoyed Tanzania, its coffee and fabulous natural attractions which includes it’s people.