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Published: December 3rd 2007
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Not China
A new statue of Julius Nyerere (1922-1999) in Dodoma, first president of the United Republic of Tanzania and an African socialist. Preface It has been too long since I added another chapter to this blog. My excuse is that I have been burdened with work and writing presents another labour. Not to mention Iran blocking travelblog.org!
This is likely my last entry from Tanzania 2006 and fills the gap between Zanzibar and Tanganyika. The three short journals are but fragments of my experience and there is more that could be told but there is more travel to be done.
The bit in-between Leaving Amani, I found myself on the same buses on which I had come: Ndio Zetu to Muheza and then Tayassar to Chalinze. Here the bus turned left towards Dar es Salaam and the driver made an impromptu stop for me to jump off. After a quick lunch, I boarded a no-name minibus to Morogoro. It was local service and stopped everywhere. We arrived mid-afternoon and the Al-Hushoom bus was ready to depart for Dodoma, the capital of Tanzania. This bus was another slow-poke and crowded as it stopped frequently; I was fortunate to have a seat.
We reached Dodoma in the dark. There was a train to Kigoma but I might have missed it. Anyhow, after
a full day of bussing I wanted to rest. And there I was, walking the poorly lit streets of Dodoma on a Saturday night looking for somewhere cheap to stay. I soon found a friend, his name was Joseph, and he helped me find a place to stay. First, he took me to the former Railway Hotel. It looked too good and the white Landcruisers in the parking lot indicated a clientele I had no interest in meeting. After that mistake, we took a shortcut down a dark alley and through the grid of railway worker’s cottages to a basic, local hotel that was not good, not bad and good enough. The next train was on Monday evening and I had more than a day ahead of me to check out Dodoma. I did not know but I would reach Kigoma in time for my ship.
On Sunday morning I purchased a train ticket, second class sleeping, and after that attended the service at the Lutheran Church; it was in Kiswahili. I listened with difficulty, gave up, paid my tithe and was then free for the remainder of the Sabbath. Joseph was with me and I did not mind
Nowhere
Somewhere between Tabora and Kigoma. his company. He works in the railway station although I think irregularly and I assume his earnings are poor. We walked through the market, had chips and beer for lunch and generally wandered about town. Dodoma is just a town with dusty streets and a rather depressed appearance. A bit like Canberra, capital city of Australia, but much poorer. I’m sure the politicians would rather be in Dar es Salaam, a more happening place featuring nightlife.
Monday evening came not too soon. Joseph, my temporary friend, saw me onto the train where I said farewell and he disappeared. An older gentleman joined me in my compartment; I forget his name and shall call him Mzee. He worked for the Tanzania Railways Corporation (TRC) and spoke English well. Before independence, children were schooled in English. Today, they begin with Kiswahili and try to catch up with English at the Secondary level. Primary is the minimum education and many kids do not go on to learn English. It’s interesting talking to these old veterans as they have lived through times of great change for Tanzania.
Of no surprise, Tanzania Railways is very run down, almost ready to rollover and die.
Kigoma
A view down the main street towards the railway station. The Dar es Salaam to Dodoma branch has been given up to the bus lines and trucks and TRC now focuses on the western region where roads are bad and competition is less. The government wants to sell this unprofitable business and I was told that an Indian Government enterprise was interested in buying. India surely knows how to run railways but Mzee does not agree this state asset should be sold. He says the railway is important to the people and fears services would be cut. He may be right but this region and its people don’t count for much in Tanzania today. The train departed on-time at 1900H.
As Mzee and I continued in our conservation we were regularly interrupted. First, someone came with bedding. Then another man came with a stick to block the sliding window. It’s said that theft is a problem on the trains but I didn’t feel threatened. Last was the Ticket Examiner. Another veteran, he was the only one in uniform, wearing a shirt, vest and drab green jacket, austere. Mzee had misplaced his ticket but they were old comrades and the ticket examiner moved on. Finally we could close the door,
Ujiji
Fisherfolk, Lake Tanganyika. lock the window and retire for the night. The compartment was hot and stuffy and only late in the night could I get a satisfactory sleep.
In the morning we arrived in Tabora. Here the line branches towards Lake Victoria and Mwanza. Thankfully my carriage remained on the Kigoma line. Mzee confirmed this for me and then left.
After a couple of hours shunting and a few false starts, the train was split in two and the journey resumed. Westward the train rattled along, over yellow grasslands, through olive and brown patches of Miombo woodland, black burnt patches and past red mud brick villages. Infrequently it stopped at derelict stations where hawkers sold roast maize, dried fish and, near Uvinza, salt. The kids asked for empty bottles and I saw some tourists give away pens and books. It was the dry season, hot and a little dusty. The village pastoralists had been burning off and mango trees were in flower. This part of the country was obviously of no economic importance.
I was soon joined by three strangers; two young men and one middle-aged, all without luggage. They looked suspect and it took some time to break
Beer souvenirs
Beer label collection from Tanzania. through the language barrier before their blank expressions gave way to smiles. Around lunchtime, feeling worn by the heat and boredom, I went to the dining carriage and left my backpack in the trust of these strangers. The dining carriage was hot and stuffy, all tables were occupied and many people were drunk. I ate rice and lake fish and had a beer or two. The food was better than satisfactory. Returning to my compartment, everything was there as I had left it. Later in the afternoon the trio departed, first one and then two.
After 24 or 25 hours from Dodoma we reached Kigoma early in the evening. The railway descended in a gentle arc down to the shores of Lake Tanganyika and a substantial colonial era station marks the end of the line. I caught a taxi up the hill to Zanzibar Lodge where I took a small, cheap, single room. The water pressure was low and it was a bucket shower to wash off the sweat and dust.
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