Day 8 and 9 Going to Dar-es-Salaam

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Thursday 10th February


Dar-es-Salaam and the coast were beckoning today, but only after about 8 hours of sweltering driving between the city and us. Vidar was not joining us as he was going on the school trip to Arusha National Park, which had been planned a long time in advance. Jon-Erik had a full working day to do, so he was going to fly to Dar and join us there in the evening. This meant we needed only one car, even if we had to squeeze in a bit. Jon-Erik, Ossian and Carita were to fly back to Moshi on Sunday, while Harriet would drive us to Kibaya, a journey I was greatly looking forward to.
It was quite a feat to pack the car, because although we had minimal luggage with us, there were still 7 of us, plus all the things Harriet wanted to bring to Kibaya. Paul was not well, in his shall we say nether regions, so he was to sit mostly in the front so he could make a quick get-a-away if needed. I also sat in the front so that Harriet had chatting company, and Carita and Anja alternatively sat in the very back with all the luggage. Our children were not used to these very long journeys, so I was a little apprehensive as to how they would cope. I also didn’t know in what condition the road was going to be, as the last time I had travelled this road it had been full of potholes and really very dangerous; I remember my father dodging huge craters in our Peugeot 404 and the 'luxury' coach we would sometimes take to get to school doing the same at night.
I had a long chat with Jon-Erik’s maid Fellista before we left. She has worked for many people connected to ISM, and also I believe for the school itself, so we had a lot of common acquaintances. She told of me the very tragic circumstances of Mama Adams passing, which I had only heard rumoured before. Jon-Erik was very happy to have found Fellista, as the first maid he hired had her own ideas about how to keep house; when asked to wash the floors inside, she simply used the garden hose to spray clean them, with no concern about furniture. Fellista was also a good cook and would always see to it that Jon-Erik had proper food. She did find his yoghurt containers full of soil for seed growing amusing, and was quite bewildered by the recycling and compost system he had devised.
Eventually we were all ready packed, all goodbyes said including an almost tearful one from Anja to the dogs, and off we drove onto the main road towards Tanga. Harriet didn’t want to stop until we got past Himo where the road turns quite sharply south and there is a place called Elephant Hotel where we could do a toilet stop. We felt very lucky as we saw Kilimanjaro beautifully with Mawenzi Peak perfectly visible to the right for the first time. I remember passing by Mawenzi when I climbed Kilimanjaro in 1985, thinking what a ragged mountain it is and how difficult to climb it must be. Victor had been up there on a school mountaineering excursion, and he saw the plane which had crashed there a long time ago, in the 1950s I believe, with the bodies of the poor passengers still un-recovered; mummified by the dry, cold air.
We arrived at Elephant Hotel and had a quick break. We didn’t want to eat anything but bought some ‘soda’, the collective name for Coca-cola, Fanta, Sprite or any soft drink. It was very hot by now, but for me at least the journey wasn’t half as bad as I’d expected, as the road was incredibly good! The potholes of old, the craters, were all gone, replaced by smooth tarmac. High speed bumps had been created before and after many villages, just like on the Arusha-Moshi road. The traffic was busy as always and there were a fair amount of run over animals lying stiffly along the road, sending wafts of the oddest cloying smell through the open windows.
Our next stop was at Segera, where there was a restaurant on the right hand side of the road. It took us 3 hours or so to get there but I was enjoying every minute, as the scenery is wonderful on this stretch of the road. The Usambara Mountains loom on the left, and they are tall and wooded. We had once done a trip to these mountains when I was young and I remember being enormously excited by finding a wild St Paulia or African Violet close to a town called Lushoto, at a quite high altitude. The cultivated form of this violet is one of Europe’s main houseplants for sale, but in the wild it is only found in the Usambara Region. If we had had more time I would have wanted to go there again and as usual Harriet knew of an attractive lodge where one could have stayed. It will just have to wait until next time.
At Segera we had our lunch break. We were really only supposed to eat some samosas we had with us from Moshi, but Ossian and Vidar were so starving that Harriet allowed them to have some of the buffet on offer. She was a bit concerned that they might get unwell; buffets are notoriously ‘dangerous’ as the food is often cold and will have sat for some time on the serving tables. Scott ate the samosas, but had to do so in secret, as it wasn’t allowed to consume your own food. He was quite disturbed by the zillions of flies everywhere, both on the table and on the food, which was to a certain extent covered by netting. The stop was a welcome one, and it felt good to stretch the legs.
The journey after the Usambara Mountains is rather dull, as the country tends to flatten out and we all kept nodding off in the car. Harriet had a bad stomach as well; this was unusual as she normally never has any problems, so we did stop by the side of the road every now and again for a quick dash behind some bushes. The trouble with stopping is that within minutes you will be surrounded by people appearing from nowhere. Mostly these are shepherding boys, but also old men wandering about their business will come forward to have a look. You have to be quick to avoid being a spectacle!
The closer we got to a town called Chalinze, the more I started to recognize the country. Chalinze is the place where the north road meets the so-called Tanzam road going from Dar-es-Salaam all the way to Lusaka in Zambia. In the 70s we used to fill our petrol tank and jerry cans at a petrol station called Caltex Star. Petrol used to be rationed and even if it wasn’t there was always a shortage, so people used to carry these old jerry cans with them containing spare fuel. Caltex Star had its own advert slogan -‘You are never too far from a Caltex Star!’ There was of course no Caltex Star now but a new one called Kobil, which had a toilet facility which Harriet used, and she came back quite green in the face resulting in that she was the only one to sample this particular toilet’s delights. Chalinze is a busy town these days and there was a huge amount of commerce going on. Buses stop en route to fill up and sellers offering food, snacks and drinks to the passengers, immediately surround them. There are also stalls and small shops by the side of the road selling mostly fruit and vegetables and lots of little bars from which loud music can be heard.
From Chalinze the road takes a sharp left turn, going almost straight east. There are no more than a couple of hundred kilometres left to Dar and the scenery begins to change subtly into a more coastal one. I was waiting for moment when you can smell the ocean; it happens much further away than one would think. I noticed how nowadays the big sisal plantations often are planted together with the inevitable maize, but it seemed to me to be good idea and certainly it kept the plantations going. It was sad to see some of them so clearly neglected, weeds hiding the straight rows of sisal plants. I thought that perhaps sunflowers might be a good alternative to inter plant with the sisal, being a quick and very useful crop, instead of the constantly occurring maize. But then again, I am no agriculturist!
Soon we passed on our right a place called Kibaha, where we had lived in the 1960s, only 40 miles from Dar. It had developed into a big town, well marked from the highway. It was getting quite late now, and we hoped we’d get to the city before dark as driving at night is not really advisable. We were to stay at a small hotel called Q-bar on the Msasani Peninsula which is one of Harriet and Jon-Erik’s favourite overnight places in Dar. Harriet had told me that it was also a very popular bar, and that the best rooms where the ones highest up so that the loud music didn’t disturb one’s beauty sleep. We arrived just before dark and were greeted by Jon-Erik who had turned up an hour or so before and sorted our rooms out. We did indeed have the 3 top floor rooms and it was just amazing to see them! They were decorated in half Swedish Ikea, half African style, with air conditioning and a huge shower cubicle. Our family was to share a big family style room, containing both fridge and TV and the most comfortable beds in the whole world. Looking out you could just get the first glimpse of ocean. The children were desperate to go and have a swim in the swimming pool almost next door at the Swedish School, so Harriet took them there quickly before it became pitch black. Ossian, Vidar, and Carita had attended this school when they first arrived in Tanzania, so they knew it well. I was content to take a 30-minute nap on that incredibly comfortable bed, after a quick shower.
Paul was feeling much better now and was eagerly looking forward to food, so once everyone had showered and dressed we set off for a restaurant called Shooters Grill situated in a part of Dar called Namanga, not too far at all from Q-bar. Dar is nowadays full of new restaurants and shopping malls, most of them situated in the main tourist areas, by good roads and giving the city a modern, almost South African feel. It is in stark contrast to the back roads and the parts not visited by tourists where the real Dar, in my view, is hidden, not always sanitary, and full of commerce, music and people. Now, I have never lived in Dar so cannot claim to know the city at all, and I have always been confused by all the streets criss-crossing and as my sense of direction is poor at all times I must confess to being completely bewildered by this historic city. As a young teen-ager we did live close to Dar, at a beach hotel called Kunduchi, some 20 km north for a couple of months, but then I was only interested in the beach and was certainly not allowed to explore any night life. My impression of Dar today is of a bustling, hot and dusty city, full of opportunity and some beautiful architecture. The Indian Ocean dominates everything. The traffic is busy, but the pedestrians outnumber cars by far. I recognized some landmarks; the Askari Monument in the centre, the old Kilimanjaro Hotel (closed, but to be re-opened in the summer of 2005), some other hotels like the old Agip and the Twiga, the Yacht Club and the State House surrounded by the fine gardens where Eland Antelopes roam.
The Shooter’s Grill was one of these new restaurants, clean and cosy with an extensive menu - mostly grilled meat of course. I did warn Paul not to order the steak and chips he wanted, but he paid no heed to my concerns and enjoyed his meal fully. Delicious! Carita ordered ‘Mini ribs’ and got a grilled rib dish so large it didn’t fit on to the plate. In comparison to English prices it really wasn’t expensive. Full and happy we drove back to Q-bar on a very bumpy road, and when we got there the bar was noticeably busier, quite packed as a matter of fact. We went upstairs to the lovely air-conditioned rooms, welcome after the humid heat of the city. Paul wanted to stay at the hotel, but Harriet, Jon-Erik and I were keen to go to a place called Slipway Plaza at Msasani Bay. A band called the Tanzanites was playing there and Harriet and Jon-Erik wanted to dance. Slipway Plaza was one of these huge mall types of places, with many small restaurants and shops. Just by the sea was a large bar and this is where the Tanzanites played. We found a table, not the easiest of tasks as the place was very busy, even though it was only Thursday night. I enjoyed the band but had to confess to being rather tired, so we only had a couple of beers and some dancing before driving back to Q-bar.
Here I found Paul in agony, as the rich chips and steak were punishing his stomach, just like I had warned. Now all thoughts of him going to Zanzibar in the morning were abandoned, much to his regret, as the music festival would have been a wonderful experience. The children were watching TV, some music satellite channel; times surely have changed!
So ends our eighth day in the most comfortable beds in the whole world.

Friday 11th February


Poor Paul had suffered in the night, and he was quite exhausted by the morning. I ordered him not to eat anything at all, just drink plenty of bottled water, and promised to try and find some sort of ‘dawa’, medicine, for him in town.
The rest of us joined Harriet’s family one storey below in the restaurant, where breakfast was served. This restaurant is open to the elements, as there are no windows, and the most mischievous black ravens fly in trying to steal leftovers on the plates. Geckos cling to the walls, keeping flies at bay, their strange transparent toes glued to the vertical surface.
The coastal air is so very warm and humid; it hits you in the face as soon as you step outside. I love the salty, fishy and exciting smell of the ocean. We couldn’t really see the sea from Q-bar, only glimpse it from the top windows, but there was no mistake about where we were. Palm trees abounded and there was a constant breeze that is unique to the coast. Dar was very green actually, trees were in full leaf and a lot of the grass was lush.
Harriet was going to give me a treat this morning - a full body massage at a beauty parlour called Topknots, where she also gets her hair cut when in Dar. Jon-Erik was to bring Carita there for a haircut after we’d had our massages. We left soon after breakfast, heading for the Oyster Bay shopping centre where Topknots was situated. This shopping centre was large, not quite a mall, but with lots of little shops and a central courtyard, where you could get lunch if you wanted. Topknots was a fairly large salon, and I was led to the back where there were some small cubicles, each containing a narrow bench and a fan. The next hour was just pure bliss as a girl skilfully manipulated every muscle in my body, and I believe I almost dozed for some of it. Now I will just have to become rich enough to be able to afford this treatment at least once a week!
Once the hour had passed, I staggered out all woozy headed to join Harriet. She had to go to a meeting of some sort, so I stayed with the children that Jon-Erik had by now brought to the salon. Carita was very reluctant to have her hair cut. She has white blond hair, which had turned the characteristic green that blondes get when swimming in the ISM pool, due to the strong chlorine content of the water. Her protestations were ignored however, and she had no choice but to sit down and get her haircut, which turned out to be a really good one we thought, although she herself was bitterly disappointed. I must confess to being exactly the same at her age, I loathed all change, and never had much confidence in my own appearance.
I did keep in mind my poor husband lying suffering in bed at Q-bar. He had sent me a message or two on my mobile, questioning whether I thought he was going to survive, so I found a small pharmacy where a most helpful pharmacist helped me choose the medicine best suited to Paul’s complaint. I got some re-hydration powder to mix with water and some violently pink medicine that was supposed to stop any ‘runny tummy’ immediately! Here I would like to add that before we left England I wanted to take a new type of cholera vaccine that is also quite effective against so called tourist diarrhoea. Because I had been a little slow in getting all the vaccinations sorted out, this particular one had been left until after Christmas. Then the terribly tragedy of the Far Eastern tsunami happened on Boxing Day and there turned out to be a huge shortage of the cholera vaccine. I was certainly not going to take any that may have been needed by relief workers going to the Far East, so we went without this protection. Maybe Paul would have been spared his illness if we had taken it; the next time we come I’ll make sure we all have it.
Anja found a shop where she bought two t-shirts. These were wonderful quality shirts with amusing prints. Apart from this we didn’t shop anymore but sat down on a fallen tree trunk and waited in the heat for Harriet, who had texted me to say she wouldn’t be long before joining us for lunch. Nowadays it is so easy to keep in contact with mobile phones, which have also reached Tanzania. I had bought a Tanzanian SIM card, so I didn’t have to use my English one, which would have become very expensive. All mobile phones are ‘pay as you go’ and the top-up vouchers are easy to get hold of and the prices are reasonable, at least in comparison to Europe. The network seems to be fairly extensive; it certainly worked in Moshi and Arusha, and in Dar of course. Kibaya was still without coverage, as most of the more remote areas are.
Harriet arrived before long and we had lunch in the courtyard. Most of the children had hot-dogs and Harriet and I had hummus with pita bread, which was a good light meal in the heat. Anja didn’t eat very much and as we left I noticed that she was very hot and certainly not her normal happy self. We drove back to Q-bar and there I put her straight to bed and took her temperature which of course turned out to be very high. I now knew that we had brought with us a virus from England, which Scott had had first and now it was Anja’s turn. She is however a good patient and she stayed nicely in bed and I believed she would be fine to join us the following day, when we were to go swimming on the Southern Beach.
Paul was not much better however, but he took his medicines and kept sipping the re-hydrating drink, so I thought he would also be ok after this day of total rest. It was disappointing that they were both ill as I was keen for them to come with me tonight when I had planned to meet a couple of my old friends from ISM for dinner. I had spoken to Mike Roussos whom I had last seen in 1978, and he suggested we met at Palm Beach Hotel by Selander Bridge, which was newly renovated and owned by some Greek friends of his. He would be joined by his wife and little son, and also by another of my friends, Dimi Mantheakis.
I was greatly looking forward to seeing them all, and also looking forward to a Greek meal. When I was a travel agent in the 80s we used to go on educational trips to the Greek Islands and I got the taste for the local food then. Retsina wine was difficult though to get used to, but I was planning on drinking Serengeti lager anyway tonight.
We set out in Jon-Erik’s car, everyone except Paul and Anja. I was quite nervous actually, as we all change when we get older, even if we don’t feel any different. Harriet tut-tutted me and said I was being ridiculous so I decided to just enjoy myself. Selander Bridge looked just like I remembered it and although it can be a bottle neck in rush hour this time we didn’t get caught in much traffic. Palm Beach Hotel was updated and smart looking, very inviting in fact.
The others were already there when we arrived and it was a really fun re-union. Dimi wasn’t able to stay very long, he had just arrived from the States and was on his way to some appointment, but he had a drink with us. Mike’s son stole all our hearts, he was quite adorable. He’s got the most brilliant name: Zeus and his parents were understandably proud of him.
We sat outside on the terrace, the velvety night closing in on us with all its sounds; cicadas, frogs, music. Mike ordered our food and it was Greek alright, just like I had hoped. Filled pita bread, hummus and olives, the beer flowed and we couldn’t stop talking. Mike’s wife was lovely and Mike himself was just as before, the years just disappeared. Little Zeus stole the show, he was very funny and confident.
This was the first night when I really noticed mosquitoes buzzing about and sampling our blood. We were all carrying anti mosquito lotion which we had to apply many times during the meal. I can’t remember doing it as a child, but now everyone seemed so aware of the risk of malaria so it wasn’t strange at all to see these deodorant- looking sticks on tables in restaurants.
At last though it had to end and we said our goodbyes. We piled into the car yet again and drove the short way to Q-bar, through a busy Friday night city and arrived to an even busier hotel, full now of dancers and party makers. Harriet and Jon-Erik stayed up, but I was being boring again and went to see how Anja and Paul were. Anja was better and so was Paul, so I felt the beach would be ok for us the next day.
Day nine really ends with a thought to all old friends, and how wonderful it is to see them again, however long it’s been since last!

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Photos

Carita's miniribs at Shooter's Grill
The helpings are enormous!

Shooter's grill
These are the only photos I've got from day 8, sorry...

Old school friends
Dimi, Tese, Mike and Mike's wife

Comments

[anonymous]

Thank you Quinn, for this wonderful journal. Sure brought great memories. I was born and raised in Tanzania, and lived in Dar for 12 years, through the 1970s.