After a week in Zambia, initial impressions of Tanzania were positive - there was much more activity and ‘life’, shops and markets were well-stocked and full of people; everyone seemed to be doing something, land was being cultivated and produce sold on roadside stalls. Admittedly we were seeing this along a major international trunk road whereas the train had been through the rural areas, but it was a stark contrast. The ‘major international trunk road’ was in fact a poorly maintained two-lane highway with a string of hundreds of 40mt trucks lined up nose to tail for about 10 kms waiting to even get to the border itself, which proved to be a bit of an obstacle course for the other road users. Luckily we were going the other direction (see last post).
The impression was also a far cry from what I remember from my time working in TZ in the early 1980s, a period of strong socialism based on cooperative agriculture under the leadership of the first president, Julius Nyerere. But it hadn’t really worked, people were critically poor and despondent, there was little money circulating, shops were empty (we often had trouble buying even basic food with cash as traders, even in the countryside, would rather barter their goods for other commodities as money was fairly useless to them). The economy had collapsed and when Nyerere resigned in 1985, TZ was one of the poorest countries in the world. All that aside, he was an interesting and influential politician, particularly during the decolonization efforts and was instrumental in the founding of the African Union, and is well worth reading about.
So to continue from the last post: we now had flights booked, and after a tuktuk to the airport, a totally ridiculous security procedure during check-in involving five paperwork checks and two complete security scans (belts, shoes and all) all within 25 metres of each other, we finally arrived in Zanzibar. Welcome to a very photogenic setting in Stone Town, the main centre, and a system totally geared up to fleece and hassle the tourists who contribute significantly to the local economy. This started with the government having recently imposed a $44 ‘health insurance’ requirement on all visitors, irrespective of any other insurances in place, and payable at the airport through some convoluted electronic system that took ages to complete. Advice: if you are going to Zanzibar, do this process online before you arrive.
Stone Town, the old Arab quarter and the main town area on the island, is fascinating, with a warren of small streets and alleys going in various directions, and although pedestrian in dimension, more often than not being used by motorcycles, hand- or donkey-carts and various other contraptions designed to avoid argument with anyone on foot. But it was a pleasure to wander about and see the history and architecture of these places, very often derelict and crumbling behind the facade, with posh ‘boutique’ hotels suddenly appearing in a backstreet, and to see the variety of marvellous carved wooden doors that Stone Town is renowned for.
We spent one afternoon visiting the Anglican cathedral which had been built on the site of the main slave market, and went through a very good exhibition of the history of this trade on this side of the continent over the centuries. Given the recent fuss about reparations or apologies from some quarters, it was interesting to note that in Zanzibar it was the British who largely brought forced slavery to an end - although conditions for the people ‘liberated’ didn’t actually change much for the better, but they were technically free and not being traded overseas. Well worth a visit if you’re on the island; and again, reading up on this (https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Slavery_in_Zanzibar). The small Freddie Mercury museum was also good, for those of us of that generation (he was born here).
We didn’t have time or inclination to visit the beaches of the east coast, but took a vehicle one day through the countryside to some impressive limestone caves in a forest reserve, and came back via a community spice farm where they grow and process many of the products that gave the Spice Islands their name, cloves included. Many plants were recognisable from Cambodia.We stayed in a rather dingy but perfectly adequate little guesthouse in Stone Town; ate some great Ethiopian food and other offerings, and enjoyed the three days there. Plans to head back to the mainland to look round Dar es Salaam were thwarted a bit by time availability, so we ended up taking a cheap flight direct to Arusha, and had a couple of days there. As a town it was nothing exciting although located on the plains below the impressive Mount Meru (an extinct volcano rising to 4,562 m above sea level), and it was somewhat challenging to track down a beer at night, which is never a good sign (we managed).
We had hoped to go for a one-day hike in the Meru foothills, but this proved too complicated to organise (!), so took took a driver (Bidongo) and headed out towards Mt Kilimanjaro (5,895 m) a couple of hours to the east. But that day Kilimanjaro was totally covered in cloud so we saw nothing, though still had a good trip through the countryside, a stop at a colonial-era eco-hotel for coffee, had a good discussion with Bidongo about life and taxes as a small businessman in Tanzania, and about the country more generally, and how it had changed since Nyerere, particularly under a more recent administration. He voiced what we have heard elsewhere in Africa - that Trump would be the preferred choice for these countries (with a certain amount of reasoning thrown in), and he got his wish, announced the following day, but I was gagging in the front seat at the very thought. He was a very careful driver and we probably never exceeded 30 km/h on the whole journey, competing with the Zambian train for the slowest journey of the trip to date. We ate at a veritable Arusha institution - the Khan brothers’ street barbecue stall, with tables in the street shared with whoever else turned up, and excellent food, still going strong after about 40 years.
The following day had us belting up an empty highway northwards through Masai territory in a shuttle bus to the Kenyan border at Namanga. Their one-stop emi-/immigration arrangements were somewhat chaotic despite the good intent, and far more convoluted than those we had had coming in from Zambia. We were hassled by hordes of highly-decorated Masai women selling tourist tat, and wanting to exchange foreign notes or coins that previous skinflint backpackers had traded for such tat - one Romanian Lei, a few reals from Brazil, a five Euro-cent coin, etc. Some of these women spoke reasonable English - but sadly, for them at least, they failed in their attempts to sell anything.
And then into Nairobi - and traffic jams, closed roads, fumes and general chaos. I was here first in 1980, a pleasant green city in those days with jacaranda-lined avenues, easy (and safe) to walk around. We went for lunch today to the Thorn Tree cafe in the centre of town, reliving memories of a good meeting point (and watering hole) during our R&R visits to the city from Uganda. I have visited Kenya and Nairobi many, many times since and seen the slow ‘development’ (or deterioration) as buildings have been replaced, roads widened, and so on over time, but still everything appears to be work in progress. A new elevated expressway, a new fast train to the coast are all impressive, but there are far more cars and buses than the roads can cope with, and holes in roads and pavements wherever you care to look.
The central part of the city is still recognisable and walkable, and despite the warnings of insecurity, is bustling with friendly locals going about their business. Maybe not for a nighttime stroll, however. We had a nice morning visit to the Karen Blixen house and museum in the suburbs, after a rather less pleasant experience (aborted) of trying to get into the National Museum where they wanted more personal information and detail than it takes to buy an air ticket. Told them to shove it and we walked out, while at Karen our taxi driver simply signed us in and we paid him the entrance fees with no more info demanded. New government policy, we were told, but how to drive tourists away!
Heading into the Rift Valley tomorrow and to Naivasha for a couple of days, en route to Uganda on Sunday. The time is flying!
