The Queen of Tanganyika

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It was past noon and sitting on the benches in the shade of steel-roofed gazebo was a small crowd of Africans and more white people than I was expecting. After the usual two or three hour wait, boarding was announced and we joined the queue that bottle-necked through the gate. Once onboard the MV Liemba we were assigned our berths and given our keys.

The MV Liemba is a wonderful old iron ship and piece of history. Built the SS Graf von Götzen in Germany in 1913 for the colony of Deutsch-Ostafrika she was disassembled and transported in pieces from Europe to Africa and then halfway across the dark continent by rail to Kigoma on the shores of Lake Tanganyika. There the pieces were reassembled and she was commissioned in 1914.

The SS Graf von Götzen was put into military service during World War I and when it was clear the Germans were losing they scuttled the ship. In 1924 she was salvaged by the British, renamed the SS Liemba and returned to service as a cargo and passenger ferry until this day. In the 1990s she was converted from steam to diesel power and refurbished with Danish assistance. From the old iron plates on the hull to the top of the funnels, this ship is classic.

I was travelling first class and the berth was comfortable enough but cramped with a bunk bed, wardrobe, small table and chair, a wash basin and two windows. My cabin mate was a student from Georgetown University, U.S.A. who was on exchange at the University of Dar es Salaam. He seemed quite sensible and was rather studious with a book or two and photocopies for reading.

Waiting to depart, I patrolled the decks to get the lay of the ship and then headed to the dining saloon where the bar was open. It’s a comfortable place (when the music is not turned up loud) with plenty of windows open for ventilation and enough room to stretch out and relax. A couple of beers later and I was starting to feel first class. The MV Liemba finally pulled out of the wharf perhaps two hours late; I wasn’t keeping time. The other white people went out on deck to see the sunset and I continued with my beer. Then I left to take a shower and change out of my sweaty clothes before dinner.

The first class showers and toilets were on our deck. Grotty and well used, the men’s was frequented by all: first class, second class and anyone else. I had a cold shower and changed, all the time holding the cubicle door closed with one hand. The next day I learned to use my slipper and wedge the door closed.

At dinner the white people grouped together. Rarely do I associate with other tourists and the confines of a ship provided a chance to find out what we were doing here, so close to the heart of darkness.

The Austrian couple I had already met over a few beers in the afternoon. Middle-aged and mature, they were travelling in Africa for the first time and taking this ship all the way to the last port and Zambia.

Chris had made it onboard; the Aussie backpacker on the train from Dodoma. He was travelling third class on the benches behind the restaurant and going ashore in the middle of the night to the Mahale Mountains National Park.

There were two more Americans on board, a young couple who had been travelling for about a year. They had started in Asia or somewhere and were finishing in Cape Town, South Africa. I was surprised to find a majority of Americans amongst us and was told ‘not all Americans are like you think’. Well, this intrepid couple were getting bored with Africa, travelling from one town to another, connecting the dots and seeing little of the interesting parts in between.

Get a group of travellers together and talk soon turns to guidebooks. Which one are you using? Is it any good? Which one is the best? There were two Swiss girls onboard and they asked me where I was going. I replied that I would see when I get there. They asked if I wanted to check their Lonely Planet. Inside I found little about southwest Tanzania, just towns, places to stay, transport between the towns and some vague descriptions of things to see and do. With such a guidebook in hand one could travel through the region and experience little more than dusty towns, cheap guest houses and long bus rides. The Swiss girls knew where they were going but not why they were going. Chris said they looked a bit ‘dykish’.

Next, there were two Danish girls. One had been a teacher with a mission of the Moravian Church. The Tanzanians say 'Molavian'; it can be amusing when 'r' and 'l' get mixed up by Kiswahili speakers. She was travelling with her friend to visit the lakeside village where she had volunteered. They were not Moravians but they did appear to be Christian or perhaps the crucifixes were to ward of unwelcome suitors - Beware of the God.

There was a seedy looking middle-aged German couple on board who I never met. They kept to themselves. The German man was de-rigeur with a new Sony camera and he was not shy of taking pictures without asking first.

The last white person on the Liemba was not a tourist. She was English and working in the Mahale Mountains National Park. Dressed in olive-green cotton, she wore a Frankfurt Zoological Society badge on her shirt pocket. In Tanzania for about eight years, she had worked on various projects and was enjoying it. I tried to engage her in a debate on conservation and tourism. I complained that the entrance fee of 80 dollars per day for Mahale Mountains is exorbitant. It’s too expensive for normal people. She said Tanzania National Parks ethos was quality not quantity. Was Chris the backpacker, paying the best part of his budget on a brief visit to Mahale Mountains, quality? Does spending more make you a better tourist? What about the local people? The idea of a National Park is a western concept and might not be the best conservation model for the developing world. Here in western Tanzania human population densities are low, development is limited and villagers depend more directly on their land and natural resources than we do in the west. Then the government comes along and locks up vast tracks of land to make them nature theme parks for affluent western tourists. Are these national parks for conservation, for the good of the nation, to please other nations (donors), for the people or simply to generate revenue? You don’t often see Tanzanians in their national parks unless they work there. Anyway, this English woman was getting a free ride so why should she care? And for Chris, I hope the national park was worth the dollars.

Our first stop was in the night and waiting in the darkness were several boats and canoes. As the Liemba slowed to a halt they raced forward across the still black waters and into the light. A couple of canoes won this time and women scrambled aboard to sell parcelled meals of fish and ‘ugali’, wrapped in leaves. Others came soon after, some with passengers and others laden with white sacks of ‘dagaa’ (sardine-like dried fish). The dried fish will be sold mostly in Zambia and some to Lubumbashi in the Democratic Republic of Congo.

In the morning I woke early and watched the sun rising over the Mahale Mountains. The MV Liemba was slicing through the calm lake waters at a steady 8 knots. She can go faster but the crew said they have to conserve fuel. Up front the cargo was piling up; a small mountain of ‘dagaa’ and plastic cans of palm oil and baskets of pineapples along the sides. I noticed crates of empty beer bottles too so they must have (warm) beer even in these outposts of progress.

Our first stop in the morning was after breakfast and we could more clearly observe the chaos of boats, cargo and passengers. As the MV Liemba slows to a halt several hundred metres offshore, the waiting boats move in and the winner takes the gangway. Not far behind, another boat pulls in and collides with the first. Passengers are scrambling to get onboard with their luggage and cargo and others are pushing to disembark. With much rushing and squabbling, it appears they are afraid the ship will leave before the transactions are completed. It almost does. The captain sounds the horn and the remaining boats move back as the ship starts to move. There were many such stops during the day. More of the same and plenty of time to read, write, eat, and sleep. The lake villages we passed looked dry and dirt poor. Red earth, mud brick houses and surrounded by dry bush.

After the second night onboard, the MV Liemba was closing in on Kasanga, the last stop in Tanzania. The port of Kasanga has a wharf, immigration and customs and a small army garrison in the old German fort. The village is one and a half kilometres back along the road. We arrived after midday and were met by the resident African Palm-nut Vulture patrolling the shimmering waters.

The Liemba tied up alongside a cargo ship from Burundi. As many people came onboard as those who were trying to go ashore. The porters, drivers, passengers and the rest created an unwelcoming human traffic jam. Andrew of Georgetown, the Swiss girls and I were waiting to go ashore. After ten minutes I proposed we move or miss out. Descending to the main deck, we pushed our way though the crowd, climbed out of the Liemba, scrambled across the decks of the Burundian ship and climbed out on to the concrete wharf. Minutes later we turned to see the MV Liemba reverse out in an arc and depart for Zambia. The German, Austrian and American couples were proceeding to Mpulungu in Zambia.

On the wharf we regrouped and I had some decisions to make. First, there was transport to Sumbawanga, the nearest town and the way out of here. On the other hand, Kasanga looked a reasonably nice place and I had not done any bird watching in the past week. I soon found out there was an African guest house in town. Andrew didn’t plan to stop and the two Swiss girls were going to the nearest place in their Lonely Planet guide book. Me, I wanted to break my travels and decided to try Kasanga.

The next morning I got out of bed early for bird watching and found the MV Liemba already returned from Zambia. The mysterious German couple were still onboard. They went to Zambia, came back to Kasanga and I think they were returning Kigoma - strange!

My few days in Kasanga were quiet and uneventful with few disturbances other than an upset stomach. Kasanga is a village that happens to have a guest house because of the nearby port. It’s a very average village of farmers and fishermen in a dry and scrubby landscape. Fortunately the valley soils are arable and they have the lake. Still, the future does not look rewarding and getting drunk appears to be the popular escape.

At first, I attempted to leave Kasanga on Sunday. Awake at 0430H, I was waiting in the dark for the small bus at 0530H. It arrived at 0600H but there was standing room only and at the wharf there were five or six more passengers waiting so I abandoned my plans and walked back to the village. Near the bridge people were digging pits in the ground by the creek and making mud bricks for a school building. Each man in the village had to make 300 bricks else go to jail or something; sounds like North Korea. The next morning I successfully caught the big bus to Sumbawanga and it was goodbye Lake Tanganyika and Kasanga.

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Photos

The Queen of Tanganyika
The MV Liemba departing Kasanga for Kigoma.

80 dollar view
Mahale Mountains.

Cargo
A mountain of 'dagaa' on the MV Liemba.

Passengers
A stop on Lake Tanganyika.

An outpost of progress
A lakeside village over the hill from Kasanga, Lake Tanganyika.

Dry country
The valley upstream of Kasanga, early in the morning.