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Published: November 7th 2008
No, there wasn't an ending to the last post but of course even the most hellish situation always somehow works itself out in Africa. Because it has to.
I end up almost hitching with a few lorries (or "truckers" as we know them in America) that pass by all too eager to bring a little Asian girl onto their vehicles for the day, only that I realize trucks actually drive ridiculously slow and on these roads probably at snail pace. Which would in effect make the already unbearable remaining 15 hours to Dar something like 30 hours to Dar which I was just not willing to do at this point. That, and I had seen out the window a couple too many flipped lorries on the sides of East African roads. That, and many of them in Tanzania are big tanker lorries carrying "DANGEROUS: PETROL" which probably wouldn't be what I would want to be swimming in after flipping over on the side of said East African roads. So I stand there in the blasting heat, looking the proper tourist refugee part, on the side of deserted road telling passing lorries that,
Yeah, I'm OK. Somebody is coming to pick me up... *cough.
After a couple hours though, the Gods have forgiven me for only they know what and along rolls a shiny 4WD Toyota Land Cruiser, complete with old grandfatherly figure white Mzungu man driving it. Obviously he stops for my pathetic state, and as luck would have it he is going almost all the way to Dar that day. For the next 10 hours, I enjoy leather seats, A/C, fast, smooth, and safe driving, and excellent conversation. My Savior's name is Mel, and Mel is from Melbourne. He has grey/white hair, looks about 60, wears pressed jeans and a white collared button up. Mel from Melbourne has been living in Africa for something like the last 30 years, in a list of countries that boast Botswana, Nigeria, Chad, Kenya, Ghana, and now Tanzania. He has a Tanzanian wife and together they have made a small daughter and a home now in West Tanzania near Lake Victoria. He did have a wife back in Australia with whom he had two sons, but she died a long, long time ago.
Mel is one of the absolute nicest people I have met in Africa yet. Probably because he is old, and old people love running into the young'uns doing crazy things, "living life," etc. He smiles much, speaks with a faded accent, and laughs at my jokes! Oh how I miss talking to somebody from the First World! What has brought Mel to Africa? He works for a large American conglomerate, Lane Christiensen, in drilling and mining in the region of course. And he loves it, he loves the job, and he loves Africa. For the rest of the day Mel and I shoot the shit about too many topics under the sun. I learn more than I ever needed to know about the resources, minerals, and oil reserves they are hitting around the region. I learn about the big African players and all the really fun gossipy political stuff that goes on behind the African mining business. He describes places I've never visited, animals I've never seen, and gems I've never encountered. I am almost sad to leave Mel when we reach our destination, but such is life and at least I walk away in slightly better moods.
On a whole other note...
There comes a point for most people traveling when your spirits dive and you yearn for home and the familiar. It would be a lie to say that the ridiculous and exotic things you see in day-to-day life while traveling are always exciting, interesting, and stimulating. It would be a lie to say that you always want to talk to everyone else you meet on the road. When this point comes of course differs from person to person, but I would think there are four main factors contributing to any certain person's breaking point: 1) where they have been traveling, 2) who they are traveling with if anybody, 3) what budget they are traveling on, and 4) how long they have been going at it. I personally have never gotten to this low point in any of my travels until now.
I am not going to lie, Africa is really starting to wear on me. Africa is a uniquely tiring continent to independently travel, especially alone. The distances are long, the transportation networks are dodgy, and the roads are in laughable condition. The people are loud, the scenes are hectic, and the crowds are pushy. The food in some areas is sparse, the nutrition is lacking, and the taste nonexistent. There is no order and no customer service. There is no such thing as your money back for shitty delivery. I went a good week through Rwanda/DRC without really talking to anybody else and went into a small bout of loneliness. I am tired of (in some countries) always being scared to walk at night and (in all countries) having to guard your belongings like a hawk when in public.
I will say that I am very lightly packed which I am happy about. However, I also basically wear one of two bottoms here: a long brown skirt and some Ralph Lauren pajama pants I have now torn at the calves. I use the skirt in actual cities and the pants when I travel. Both have new holes in them, and both are usually quite dirty. I only have two bottoms to choose from because I did not really realize that much of East Africa is quite religious, either Christian in Uganda or Muslim all along the coast. Shorts, (especially MY shorts) are a huge no-no so those sit taking up albeit little space, in waste at the bottom of my 40L bag. (Oh, and when I do wash my clothes which isn't often anymore, don't forget Africa doesn't really have many washing machines nor does it use softener. Stiff, scratchy clothes galore!!)
My mother would be appalled to know that I barely eat any greens here in Africa, mostly due to the fact the only stuff you can really find is like chopped up wilted cabbage. Meat is also a real treat as I don't trust much around here any more, and as I described when I do feel brave the meat is usually quite rubbery. I am getting really sick of bananas and pineapples, and once in a while I pay a LOT of money for apples (expensive in Africa) but sometimes I am scared that I'll get worms from eating a non-peeled fruit. Next time I come to Africa I am bringing a big bottle of Centrum with.
In addition to wearing holey clothes and eating nutrition-free carbs, it's about time I got malaria. Half the travelers I have met have gotten malaria around 5 weeks after their arrival in Africa, as the symptoms take about a month to show. I have met a couple travelers that have had malaria multiple times already. That puts me almost a month overdue, and I am really not looking forward to it.
More hygiene complaints, I'm tired of staying in what wouldn't even qualify as sex motels in America. The rooms are small cells, cold showers, nasty toilets, dodgy sheets. I do not have a sleeping bag. You have to tiptoe around in your flip-flops because you don't want to come into contact with the floor. You sweat your balls off at night under mosquito nets. I mean it's something I have been doing and have done plenty, I can rough it pretty well, but 2 months of it straight.... I don't know. Well I suppose even sleeping in these rooms is better than the nights you spend sleeping on broken down buses or on bags of maize on the side of the road. It goes without saying that what sleep I do get here, I don't get very well and so I feel like the tiredness is just building day after day.
The Africans themselves are also starting to get to me. Yeah, they're really great and novel and all, real "authentic" when you first get here and are still wanting to babble to everybody and everything as the fresh tourist you are... but after a while... you just wait. I'm starting to feel like a bad person now because I can't help but assume that most of the locals that try to befriend me will inevitably try to 1) sell me something, 2) rob me, or 3) get me to sponsor a visa to America. Then you tell them no, and all they say to you is "Hakuna Mutata, rafiki.... Hakuna Mutata." The slow pace, lack of urgency and lack of schedule in anything which was at first refreshing is now painfully testing my broken patience. I just don't have the energy right now to deal with it, to laugh about it and take it in stride.
All that together, and it doesn't help when you are fleeing serious rebel activity from one country to the next for a week. Basically in short, I need a break. This is probably not a very fun entry to read, but I don't care. I know this is diarrheal whining right now, but if anything have this be a warning to you THAT THIS COULD HAPPEN TO YOU AFTER TWO MONTHS IN AFRICA!
Now I need a few nights in A/C, a few nights in peaceful, beautiful, mindless surroundings. I need a massage, and good seafood, some wine. I need to spend some time where families go again, where you can hire everything to be done for you. Hell, I might even need to join a few day tours... I'm going to Zanzibar.
P.S. - Dar es Salaam (Haven of Peace) is pretty much a shithole.
P.P.S - Loads of whining, over.
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emily woodland
non-member comment
Jeez Amy, am so glad you're ok and you made it back to civilisation, your last unfinished post was very worrying! Have a well deserved relaxing time in Zanzibar and spoil yourself rotten, sounds like you could do with it! Keep chin up, we are all so inspired by what you are doing and even your low points are good to hear about, while we fester in front of our computer screens!