Karibu!

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"Karibu!", greeted the Emirates flight attendants as we got off the long, but comfortable 18-hour plane ride. The Swahili word, meaning "Welcome", was emblazened on the roof of the Julius Nyerere International Airport in Dar es Salaam, and it concisely captures the warmth and hospitality we repeatedly came to expect of the Tanzanian people. The sterile airport entrance, coated with Western-style excessive security, begat a disorderly stampede reminiscent of an Indian temple or train station at the visa office. This was the location of the first snafu of the trip - we had been told adamantly by our program directors to ask for an ORDINARY visa, yet the officers insisted we obtain a STUDENT visa, which was $50 less expensive. After ~10 minutes of pleading our case to a guard who spoke little English, another kindly pulled us to the side and explained that another group of about 9, led by our professor, had gone through this process earlier, and that Americans cannot obtain ordinary visas for whatever reason, so we reluctantly agreed. This particular guard had found it humorous that the stupid "wazungu" (Swahili term for foreigners, usually with a negative connotation) were arguing so passionately to pay them unnecessary extra money. Once that was sorted out, we exchanged our dollars to shillings at a surprisingly good rate, and proceeded to wait for our visas to be "processed" - this was a 1.5 hour process during which our passports were being held by the office, which made me somewhat anxious. We did however get them back eventually, and met our excited professors at the exit gate. Once all 17 of us had arrived safely, it was time for the 30 minute bus ride to our accommodations, the Salvation Army housing.

On the streets of Dar, I was immediately assaulted by some very familiar sensations. Besides some prominently African features in the landscape, our bus could have easily been navigating the streets of Kochi or Chennai. Tiny, nostalgic details were everywhere, from the sounds of excessive honking and revving motorcycles, the same aroma of street food, smoke, dust, and a hint of garbage, and various sights including auto rickshaws (called bajajs here) and billboard ads for at least five different soft drink brands, including India's favorite Mirinda.

The day ended at our final destination, the Salvation Army barracks, where we met our program directors, obtained our textbooks, and ate a hearty dinner of rice, noodles, chicken curry, and fried fish. Jet lag prevented a normal sleep schedule for most of us, and the mosquito net only marginally protected from the onslaught of vicious attackers at night, but overall, the day was satisfying.

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Comments

[Randy]

Fascinating to follow
I really enjoy reading about your observations during this adventure! Keep sharing, Pranav!