Period of Adjustment

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African proverb: To the child, a mother gives her blood, (heart). The father his spirit, (soul).

We spent three days in Dar es Salaam and this gave us the opportunity to adapt to the climate, the culture, the time change, and simply to being on the road again.

Starting with the time, we left Vancouver early Tuesday morning and arrived in Dar late Wednesday night. Total flight time - 28 hours. Plus, flying east we lost another 11 hours. We slept from midnight Wednesday, right through all of Thursday, staggering up only for our free breakfast in our hotel, the Iris, and to stagger out for dinner. The former included a Spanish omelette, a bowl of fruit, glass of passion fruit juice and some very dark, strong, excellent, African coffee. Dinner we ate at a street BBQ called the Rizza. Spiced chicken with nan garlic bread and coke in a glass bottle. About $5 each.

The second adjustment is the climate. It is not freezing on Gabriola Is. at this time of year, but it is dark and wet and rarely gets above 8C. It is sweatshirt weather with a fire lit in the wood burning stove each afternoon around three as the sun begins to dip behind the western cedars. In Dar, one is in the midst of equatorial Africa on the coast of the Indian Ocean. It is not only hot, but swelteringly humid and the darkness of night brings little or no relief. Our ceiling fan whirled constantly, (when the power did not short out), its hum drowning out the street noise pouring in through our glassless window. We switched the AC unit on and off as it periodically streamed water down upon our sleeping faces from its position on the wall above the head of our bed.



On Friday, we arose somewhat refreshed, and ventured out through the downtown area towards the waterfront and Dar's famous fish market. There were banners all over the streets as it was actually an international Muslim holiday - The Prophet's Birthday - a tribute to Mohammed, the last known prophet. Walking through the downtown core, our first impression was probably one of isolation. In a metropolis of 6.3 million people, there just did not appear to be any other caucasians. And so in a freakish way, all eyes were being drawn upon us. Arriving at the market, it took only seconds for a uniformed guard to approach us, introduce himself, and offer to show us around the market. Despite the militaristic look of his uniform, Albert was in fact a tour guide who jumped at the opportunity to escort two white tourists around the market. Albert was of Rwandan birth, had lived in Dar for eight years, was of very slight build and extremely kind. He spent an hour meandering us through the countless stalls of fish, remarking upon the many species and how they were caught and sold. One could only describe him as a truly 'gentle soul'. We offered to buy him a cold drink but Albert declined explaining that he was not allowed to except money or gifts from patrons. He simply wanted us to sign his guest book and leave a note of thanks which I did willingly. Walking back to our hotel, we actually bumped into another caucasian - a Turkish gentleman who seemed just as surprised as we were. The three of us chatted for a few minutes and I could not help but notice how much and how easily we laughed in that short span. Almost in a kind of relief. Adaptation takes more than a day or two.



First impressions of Dar es Salaam and its culture: This is a third world city ripe with poverty, yet we encountered very little begging on the streets and next to no garbage anywhere. Whether it is partly to do with the Muslim faith or just the natural pride of the people, begging is just not tolerated. There are venders selling everything from DVDs to clothing to kitchen ware, however, they are polite and never aggressive. They make themselves seen to you, but only approach when you signal. And with all the shops and BBQ eateries, I cannot figure out where they put the garbage. No dumpsters or rows of cans anywhere. The streets are very clean and there is a definite lack of roaming, wild dogs. In this heat and humidity, the olfactory affect of rotting waste would be quick and rancid. But the air, although heavy, is quite clean. Even when eating, they clean away your plate very quickly and efficiently, discouraging any build up of flies or other pests.



Finally, the people themselves: For the most part, very relaxed polite and curious. Their appearance is much different from the average North American black. Their skin is a much deeper, darker black - almost a deep purple shade - and it radiates a black velvet like smoothness. Their high cheekbones, large dark eyes, and beautiful ivory teeth, give them a natural stunning beauty, especially when they smile, which appears often.



We dragged ourselves up in the wee hours of Saturday morning, packed up, and readied ourselves for our long bus ride to Lushoto. We awoke the desk clerk from his 4AM slumbers and were astonished that after only seven or eight minutes, my credit card actually worked on their machine and the taxi driver appeared in the lobby. The bus station is located about ten km. west of the city and the cabbie wanted 45,000 shillings for the ride. Monica talked him down to 30,000 but that was the end of our good luck for the day. (2,000 shillings = $1). The Dar bus station is nothing more than a gigantic field filled with hundreds of buses all parked in a random fashion. Thousands of people wander in from all directions. There is no rhyme or reason to this station - no ticket booth, no information centre. One just asks and goes by word of mouth as to what bus is going where, when, and for how much. Our taxi driver lead us to a friend of friend who informed us that the next bus to Lushoto was not leaving for another three hours, but he had a bus going close to it, to Mombo, in half an hour. This was actually a bus to Arusha and Mombo was half way. It is all but impossible to describe the scene as the agent was giving us this info in broken English. Hundreds of buses with their engines all idling frantically, smoke pouring everywhere, thousands of Tans, many with screaming kids and squawking chickens, all wandering in chaotic swarms. Add on to this is the station's reputation as a centre for smugglers and pickpockets. Being white and not speaking Swahili, we are prime bait. Paranoia starts to creep in. Every innocent jostle sets one's heart a flutter. The noise is deafening. I try to listen but what does it matter? We understand so little. The agent gives us a price for Mombo. The taxi driver has been paid and disappeared. Monica turns to me and says 68,000. I count out 135,000 shillings and the agent says that is okay. She writes out two tickets, folds them in half and hands them to me. I push them into my pocket as they signal that they want my backpacks - I am wearing two - to load onto the bus. They hustle these into storage and us onto the bus. The agent escorts us onto the bus and then disappears. Only then do I pull out the tickets. The price on each was 34,000 - 68,000 was for two tickets. And that was the full price for the trip from Dar to Arusha. We were only going half way to Mombo. So in dollars, I paid $68 when I should have paid around $17. By the time I realized we had been ripped off, the agent had disappeared and the driver just smiled in ignorance. The irony of it all is that getting ripped off in this manner bothers me less than the banks charging me $5 every time I have to make a withdrawal.

The bus ride itself is typically African. Lots of stops, small seats with very little leg room, no AC, and shocks that died before the Boer War. Seasoned travelers call the bus rides the 'African Massage'. The country side outside of Dar was initially little more than a string of shanty towns. Broken down homes, often using little more than sheets for walls, however things improved as we climbed into the eastern mountains. Six hours later, we got off at Mombo and hired a taxi that drove us the last 15 km up into the Usambara mountains, past the village of Lushoto to our next destination, the Melemeleni Lodge.

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Photos

Our First Dinner in Dar - BBQ
I had Lemon Chicken and Marty had Chilli Chicken with Garlic Naan Bread
Yum Yum Yum

Fish Market
Kind Albert ( Tourist Police ) showed us around and gave us the in's & outs

Fishermen
Fishermen bringing their catches to the market - seen sting ray , snakes, snapper, sardines , cat fish & many more types

Comments

[Heather and Norm]

Period of Adjustment
wondered whether you head brought your black hat, Marty. You did! Love reading about your adventures and can identify with those buses and chickens and heat and smiling faces. Don't mind telling you we are enjoying your writing but I can say for myself, I'm quite content to be in Canada with snow falling softly outside. Are we still on the same earth? Keep on writing and stay in touch. Hugs to you both, Heather and Norm