Beginning of Tanzania

My boyfriend, Ryan, came to Rwanda again this summer, and, after spending a couple weeks here, we took a trip to Tanzania. We arrived in the capital city of Dar es Salaam (which, at over three million people, dwarfs Kigali), trekked in the Usambara Mountains, and visited Zanzibar. Here, in a few parts, are the stories of our experiences and our observations of the country. Bottom line: Tanzania is great, you should go!

First Impressions of Dar

We got our first impressions of Dar from the window of our Precision Air flight from Nairobi. It was a surprise to say the least. Flying in over one corner of the city, we could see dozens, if not hundreds, of buildings that looked like they had at least five to ten stories. I knew Dar was a big city, but I was expecting decaying urban sprawl, not skyscrapers! (Just a day earlier, Ryan had predicted that Dar would be really nice, and I laughed at him. Oops.)

The night was a little hot and steamy, but comfortable, and we made it through the rather modern airport with relatively little hassle. We were required, though, to have our fingerprints scanned before we were issued our visas. In the calm area outside the airport, one taxi driver approached us politely, and we were on our way. I also have to note that the cab had air-conditioning AND seatbelts – even in the backseat!

During the seven-mile drive from the airport to downtown Dar, it almost felt like we could have been in LA. The city is big and developed, with lots of tall buildings and periodic traffic lights. More surprising, though, were the multiple housing wares mega-stores we passed, all displaying fancy wardrobes, entertainment centers, toilets, and bed frames, as well as the BMW, Toyota, and Ford dealerships. Not to mention a couple big buildings that appeared to be bona fide shopping malls!

At $18/night (including breakfast) for a double room with a fan and hot shower, plus free Internet access in the lobby, the Safari Inn, located in heart of downtown, was a good deal. We dropped off our bags, and set out to see what we could see. Despite it being a Tuesday night, the atmosphere was pretty lively – lots of people out and about, walking around, doing things. On nearly every street were fruit and vegetable vendors and people grilling meat for shawarma. After exploring for a bit and perusing the various dinner options, we decided to go for some street food, and ended up having absolutely delicious chicken shawarma (which, at about $2.30, is not nearly as cheap as street food in some countries, but certainly better than what $2.30 will normally get you in Kigali) and a glass of sugar cane juice (about $0.87).

The diversity of people out and inter-mingling – black, white, Asian, Indian, Arab, in Western dress, in Muslim dress, speaking English, speaking Swahili, speaking Arabic – also struck us. We saw foreigners and locals sitting at the same sidewalk cafés, eating street food together, talking to each other, and it was normal. Seeing the way people co-exist in Dar really highlighted the divide in Kigali, where, for example, there are clear “muzungu restaurants” (which are also frequented by upper-class Rwandans) and “local restaurants” (where bazungu can go, sure, but not without being hassled to death). Along with this, we were also surprised by the general lack of staring and harassment while we walked around. Coming from Rwanda, it was really refreshing and just pleasant (more on this later, maybe).

As this was Ryan’s first time in a country with a sizable Muslim population (35% of Tanzanians are Muslim, compared to 5% of Rwandans), we took note of the many mosques, including one enormous one, all with rows of shoes sitting outside the entrance, and the crowds of women in headscarves and men in robes coming and going. Ryan also got to experience one of my favorite sounds – the call to prayer, which he did not particularly care for. (It’s an acquired appreciation, and I’m sure my fondness for it stems partially from the fact that it reminds me of Senegal.)

Dar is a major metropolitan area, and the prevalence of so many things there, relative to Kigali, is perhaps due more to its size, and status as a major port, than its level of development. Regardless, Kigali is cleaner, sure, but Dar is definitely more vibrant.

Getting to the Mountains

Aiming to make it to Lushoto, the main town in the Usambara Mountains, by mid-afternoon, we left our hotel early and got a taxi to Ubungo, Dar’s main bus terminal. It wasn’t far, but the road between downtown and Ubungo was basically one giant traffic jam. We bought tickets at an office on the edge of the bus park, and then followed the ticket agent through the maze of huge buses to ours. With three seats on each side of the aisle and probably at least 25 rows, our bus was the size of a small airplane. During the five-hour ride to Mombo, the “scruffy junction town” (according to Lonely Planet) where we changed buses, we observed people standing in the aisles giving lengthy sermons and leading prayers, giving sales pitches for the bottles of something (beauty products?) they were selling, hawking snacks and newspapers, and, when the seats were full, simply riding the bus. The landscape during the trip was primarily the savannah that characterizes visions of East Africa, with periodic small towns along the way.

Not really knowing what we were looking for, we’d been keeping a close eye out for anything that said “Mombo.” We started seeing signs mentioning “Mombo” when we were still essentially in the middle of nowhere. A few minutes later, when the bus pulled into the parking lot in front of a large building, and everyone, including the driver, got off, we got off as well. While most of the other passengers went inside to order lunch, we looked around, trying to determine if we were where we needed to be. Eventually, we asked the guard sitting under a tree near where the bus had parked where we could get a bus to Lushoto. “Walk 500 meters there, to Mombo Town,” he said, pointing down the road. We thanked him and set off, but quickly began to wonder how we’d know when we’d reached “town,” as nothing in the visible distance looked like much of a town. We walked about 15 minutes and reached a small cluster of buildings. Was this “town?”

We approached a group of men sitting under a tree and asked them if we would be able to get a bus there. “Walk to Mombo Town, it is 500 meters,” they told us, pointing further down the road. And so we kept walking, still wondering if we’d know “town” when we saw it. About that time, the bus we’d been on drove past us. Oops. A few minutes later, we encountered a guy standing (under a tree, of course) in front of another group of small buildings. We told him where we were trying to go, and he told us Mombo Town was 500 meters down the road. But then, thankfully, he said we could wait for a bus right there. He sent his friend out to the road to watch for a bus, and, when one approached a bit later, he flagged it down and called us over. Five minutes or so down the road, in a bus this time, we approached what was certainly and recognizably “town.” It just happened to not have been 500 meters from the first person who told us that, or the second, or the third. But finally, we were on a Lushoto-bound bus!

It wasn’t far from Mombo to Lushoto, but the road was curvy and the bus stopped every five minutes or so to let people on and off. Finally, we pulled into the small mountain town and headed to the White House Annex, which Lonely Planet described as “arguably the best” of Lushoto’s “no-frills guesthouses.” The rooms were immaculate, and, apart from the potentially deadly configuration of exposed wires that made up the “hot shower,” it was another good deal, at $10/night for a double, including breakfast.

Just down the street was the office of Tayodaya, a small organization that organizes hikes in the area, so we went in to see what the options were. We had initially planned on doing a couple day hikes, returning to Lushoto each evening. When the guides mentioned we could hike during the day and then drive further into the mountains and stay in another village the second night, we opted for that instead. A big draw of one of the day hikes had been that it involved stopping for lunch at Irente Biodiversity Reserve, which produces cheese and muesli. So, because we wouldn’t be hiking there (and because of our, er, my pathetic excitement about the prospect of cheese), the guides offered to drive us to the reserve at the end of our last day of hiking.

After our trekking arrangements were made, we headed to the restaurant in one of the town’s bigger hotels for dinner, in large part because Lonely Planet mentioned the banana milkshakes on their menu. Shortly after ordering the milkshakes and our meals, though, the power went out. That meant no banana milkshakes, and also no pizza for Ryan. So, he opted to take what I thought was the risk and ordered the “pesto” pasta, which the menu described as pasta with peanut sauce. I’m pretty sure the word “pesto” was just for show, but at least the description was honest! His meal was essentially pasta covered spicy, liquidy peanut butter, but he’s a good sport and seemed to enjoy it.

Stay tuned for the story of our trek!