Tanzania
14th July 2007
After buying car insurance for three months ($20), we enquire about the roads south – there’s warnings of ‘Shifta’ in the forest. Shifta is a Somali word, now used throughout Africa as a term for bandits. The police here have been fighting them for 6 months now – apparently being quite successful in their campaign. There have been no incidents for 3 months, but the previous attacks on vehicles have been vicious, they kill, and take what they wish.
We’re looking into getting a police escort, and leaving in the morning. For the rest of the day – we’re relaxing on the shores of Lake Victoria, playing volleyball, guitar, cooking, chilling and getting to know our new passenger better.
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Sunday 15th July 2007
We wake before dawn, aiming to follow the bus on the dangerous road south – they have a police escort, and aren’t normally a target for the shifta. We find the bus station at ten to six, but are told that the bus south doesn’t leave until 2pm that afternoon… We’ll have to arrange for a police escort just for us.
We stop at the police checkpoint just outside of town and after I wake the three officers, who are sleeping in their car they try to phone to arrange an escort for us. After 10 minutes of trying however, they’ve not been able to reach anybody – on the radio or phone. This doesn’t really instil me with much confidence!
After totally failing to contact the relevant superiors, they tell us that it’s safe to travel south for at least the first 80km; the trouble spots are in the 40km before Biharamulo.
The Chinese are here – building a new road, I’ve seen them throughout my travels laying tarmac all over east Africa and Ethiopia, their thirst for African resources is relentless – the only way to increase the flow of goods is to build better roads. For now, we’re on the old bad road, the new one looks to be just a few months off completion.
Just a few kilometres into the drive, I hear a familiar sound. The screeching from the gearbox, the lack of any power and we’ve worn through another drivemember.
It’s the first time this has happened since Nairobi – and it was always going to happen at some point as I refitted the worn, old one at CMC after finding out their ridiculous prices.
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It takes under an hour to replace, this time I know exactly what I’m doing, make no mistakes and we’re away, leaving behind the crowd of onlookers which had arrived from the nearby village.
Arriving at the roadblock 40km before Biharamulo, the sleepy officer (it’s around 11am now) tells us there’s no escort, but it ‘should be safe’. There’s no real choice for us here – we have to continue without an escort.
Kaplan is used to this tension – he’s been in the Israeli military for three years, patrols through hostile territory are nothing new for him. The road is OK, bad in parts, but each corner we turn we’re expecting to see some boulders across the road (the shifta’s favourite tactic for stopping vehicles). Seeing an army jeep with a rear mounted machine gun and an officer reading a map of the area gives me a mixed feeling of increased apprehension and comfort.
The only other vehicles we see are those doing road-side repairs. All advice says “don’t stop”, so we pass by at speed – hoping that if we have a problem others won’t heed that advice!
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The end of the road finally arrives, I’ve been pushing M quite hard through the last section and she’s done well.
Taking an easterly course, heading through small villages towards Shinyanga we’re relieved we have no Bandit stories to tell.
The roads are wide but heavily corrugated, presumably due to the huge trucks bringing building materials to the road project north of us. Progress is steady, and by late afternoon I’m looking for a place for us to sleep.
The density of people is starting to increase as we leave the more baron north eastern part of Tanzania, stopping to buy a chicken for dinner (Dolors has offered to kill it this time) we take a sharp right, off the road and into the forest. Driving a few hundred metres away from the road we find a nice little clearing with a perfect, natural fire pit.
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First things first, we light a fire and kill the chicken. In hindsight, it would have been better to do those things in reverse – our chicken (which I’ve named ‘Snack’) is a little frightened firstly by us Muzungu’s and secondly by the sight of a roaring fire.
Dolors is extremely reluctant to do the deed, and after a few minutes of coercion the head’s off and the chicken’s spraying blood all over my trousers and shoes. I must say, I’d rather kill it than hold the body as it kicks and struggles in your hands… The killing doesn’t take that long, but the final kicks and spasms take quite a while to end.
There’s no moon tonight – the third day I’ve not seen any moon. After dinner (or should I say Snack?), I sit back and marvel at the stars above. The sky here is alien to me – I look hard, but find no familiar stars. There’s almost no light pollution here, our cigarettes and head torches are probably some of the worst offenders for a few hundred kilometres.
Monday 26th July 2007
After packing up camp and starting the engine, I’m concerned to find that the clutch travels almost all the way to the floor with little resistance. I can feel it get even worse as I engage 1st gear; we’ll need to get to a town quickly.
I do most of the journey in 3rd, not wanting to push out the remaining clutch fluid, fixing this where we have access to parts is sensible, and luckily there’s a town just 30km ahead.
Stopping in a petrol station – I get to work, the leak is from the clutch slave cylinder, checking that everything’s secured and properly tightened, we decide that rather than change the cylinder (which I have in my spares kit) we’ll just bleed and top up the system and head towards a larger town.
The hydraulic bleeding takes far less time than it takes for our lunch to arrive, but it was worth the wait… BBQ’d goat can be a hit and miss experience here – our lunch today is a definite hit, what’s not so good is the only English speaking chap roped into helping us communicate with the staff at the bar trying to rip us off after our meal… Maybe people here aren’t quite as honest as the majority are in Uganda…
Leaving the thieving translator behind to suffer the wrath of his fellow citizens (many of whom are very angry at him) we continue east towards Shinyanga.
Shinyanga is a diamond and gold town, the police presence is high, and I’m stopped and questioned at each checkpoint – something which hasn’t happened since Kenya. The town itself has a dusty, Wild West feel to it – there’s obviously money here, alongside a lot of desperation. I’m not sure whether the desperation is the same as anywhere else on my travels or just more prominent when seen in such stark contrast to the wealth.
After stocking up on essentials, we’re off towards the first “not recommended” roads which appear on my GPS maps from tracks 4 Africa (T4A). I’ve already driven on some short sections of road marked “off road”, which were fun and challenging, so I’m looking forward to finding out just how bad “not recommended” is.
Turns out that they’re fine – they’ve obviously been upgraded since the last person submitting waypoint information to T4A drove here… corrugations due to the cotton carrying trucks are the only hazard – alongside the blinding clouds of dust they bring.
Hundreds of huge ghostly trees line our road, alongside beautiful rock formations that look like giant piles of beach pebbles.
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One hour before sunset, we once more make a sharp right into the bush – heading towards the beautiful rock formations.
We find a secluded spot and settle in for the night. Collecting firewood – Kaplan finds a yellow scorpion, a small deadly looking one – the advice of taking just ‘one log at a time’ I received before my journey began is advice I’m still very grateful for.
All of us still alive – we make steaks, and sit back to marvel at the clear bright night sky.
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Today we plan to enter the Ngrongro Conservation Area – home to one of Africa’s best known craters – one of the world’s largest volcanic calderas.
We’re entering via a fairly unused gate – on offroad tracks, hoping to avoid the extortionate entry rates that the park charges. $50 per day, per person is what our guide says – hopefully there’s a transit fee we can pay to drive through the area to Arusha.
The road gets pretty bad – a small track on which few vehicles have passed in the last few months. It’s what I’ve been looking for – challenging roads on which to have fun.
Once inside the conservation area (the only notice we had was a small sign) we spot within a few minutes a cheetah stalking prey in the long grass.
It’s much further away than the cheetah Karin and I saw in Meru national park – but it’s a fantastic sight none the less. We watch for 20 minutes until she slinks off through the grass, away from our unwelcome intrusion in her hunt.
The rest of the drive takes us through Masi country, the traditional boma’s can be seen all around, and between two of them we pick up a Massi hitchhiker, who’s extremely grateful for us saving him a 10km walk.
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Our drive took us past the Ngrongro crater – a spectacular sight, although perhaps better seen at dawn with the sun behind us…
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After seeing the crater, and driving to the southern gate is where the fun really begins. The gate is locked – it’s locked at 6pm each day, it’s now quarter to seven, and there’s apparently no way for us to leave.
Kaplan notices that there are tyre tracks around the gate – and that it would be easy to navigate around them. Before trying however, he takes a walk down the road ahead to see whether there’s another gate or a guard post. The presence of a guard post is confirmed when we hear shouts, and see Kaplan sitting down on the floor – presumably due to a number of guns pointing at him. I’m glad we didn’t try to drive around this gate!!
After the guards being satisfied he’s not a poacher, or is armed, they come (in a jeep) to speak with us. There’s many leopards here, so the guards don’t walk. We manage to speak to the boss of the gate, who happily announces we must pay $190 to pass through the gate (the cost of 1 day’s entry for the three of us plus the car). Negotiations don’t go well – implying we’re willing to ‘find another way to pay’ doesn’t bear fruit either. In the end the boss admitted that they were at fault, not making us aware of any fees to enter the park – if we’d have known that the only way to enter was to pay $190 we’d have gone around. There’s only three roads into the park, and two of them are heavily staffed and are the main tourist routes. The third, our road, probably hasn’t seen any tourists in quite some time.
We agree (rather than to pay $190) to leave via the same gate we entered in the morning. Leaving the gate, we head off to bush camp inside the conservation area (the campsites are $30 per person)!
On our way back past the crater, we see a leopard, just a few metres away from the car. We also almost run into a few lone bull elephant’s navigating the craters edge.
Before we can turn west, a guards car stops us and asks us to follow him. He knew our car number plate, and the number of people we should be… it seems the man at the gate we’d just agreed our plans with has called his boss.
We’re all expecting to be shaken up by the authorities here – they were already talking about the police earlier at the gate – but our insistence that this was their mistake for not having anyone explain to us when we entered the conservation area that there is no transit fee.
The large Tanzanian sitting behind his heavy desk announces that his profession is law enforcement, but that now he is in charge of the Ngrongro crater conservation area. The law enforcement part did not go unnoticed.
After explaining the situation again (which takes some time), he’s looking for us to pay some money to leave through the southern gate – and to travel onto Arusha tomorrow. The alternative, of leaving through the western gate means an additional 15-20 hours driving, across terrible roads to the south of Lake Eyassi. In the end, after some ‘friendly’ discussions – and just before we thought we’d all get arrested, we agree to pay $50 to exit the conservation area.
It’s not such a bad deal for us – after all we’ve seen a cheetah and a leopard today.
After a nights stay just south of the conservation area, we’re off to Arusha. The slave cylinder continues to leak hydraulic fluid and is in need of replacement.
The Massi camp is the place to stay in Arusha, one of the few places catering for backpackers and overlanders… the town thrives on the tourist industry, with rich Americans and Europeans flying in for a 10 day safari to the crater and onto the Serengetti. It’s also the starting point for all climbs of Kilimanjaro.
Within 24 hours of arriving at the Massi camp, I’m sick. Very sick. The first night is the worst, with a fever that came on very quickly, my bones are cold and I’m shivering like I’m in the arctic. My head pounds, like the worst hangovers I’ve ever had all at once. My stomach’s doing summersaults, and I’m back and forth to the loo every 5 minutes.
All of the symptoms point to Malaria. The cold sweats at night, followed by hot fevers and severe headaches don’t stop. I take Artemesian – the herbal cure now prescribed by doctors all over Africa, and I feel a little better.
The third day is when you feel fine apparently – just before it comes back for a second bite of the apple, sure enough on the third day I feel good – no more fever, more energy so I’m certain I have Malaria.
The next day I visit the hospital, where after tests I’m declared free of Malaria (PHEW!), instead I have a nasty bacterial infection – which gives exactly the same symptoms… A few days rest and the right medicine and I’ll be on my way…
It’s been almost 8 days here now at the Massi camp – I’m bored, and in need of getting back on the road.
The people here have been great though – we’ve made many new friends since arriving, and I’m grateful many of them for helping out a sick young Englishman. Special thanks to Mo, who’s been a legend… full of helpful advice and who’s checked in on me occasionally when I’ve been absent from the pool table!
Tomorrow morning (Thursday 26th July) we’re leaving Arusha, heading towards Dar Es Salaam, before heading over to Zanzibar for a few weeks well earned rest and relaxation on some of the worlds most beautiful beaches.
The replacement of the clutch slave cylinder and the rear brake shoes are now done, we’re leaving Arusha today, and I’ve not seen much of the town due to my illness, but by all accounts I’ve not missed much.
We leave some new friends – Sparky and Stacey at the Massi Camp, caring for some abandoned puppies that wandered in over the last few days. One has a broken leg, and Sparky does a great job creating a splint and looking after the poor pup.
The road to Dar is good all the way – and it’s a long way… I’ve not driven on many good roads recently and I’ve forgotten just how dull it is. It’s easy to speed, which probably accounts for the two speeding tickets. The first one was reduced by 50% through doing it “the friendly way”, which involves the police officer putting 10000TSH in his pocket, and me not receiving a receipt.
We reach Dar Es Salam a day later after taking a detour to a beach campsite just south of Tanga. Dar is the capital of Tanzania in all but name; it’s a thriving business hub from Monday to Friday, but almost a ghost town from Saturday afternoon until Monday morning.
Travellers I’ve met all sum Dar Es Salaam in the same way: “It’s just Dar”. There’s not a great deal to do here, just stock up on supplies and catch the ferry to Zanzibar. For me though it does hold a certain charm – the European influence in architecture is quite apparent and the people have a perfect mix of big city apathy towards tourists and when needed - typical African hospitality and helpfulness.
Here’s where Dolors and I part company, we’ve travelled together now for two months, I’m planning to spend longer in Zanzibar than her – so will continue on to Malawi alone…
I meet up with Rob – the Chief Executive of READ International, a British charity which is the largest sole supplier of educational material to Tanzania. Rob is also a good friend of Graham Alcott, the chairman of the organisation and old friend of mine from home.
READ take used academic books from universities all over the UK, sort through them and ship the quality unwanted books to Tanzania each year. The organisation works with the education department here, and with the help of hundreds of British volunteers distributes the material all over Tanzania.
After a few boring and uneventful days spent waiting until the weekend ends and for the shops to open again I buy a ticket for Zanzibar and head out to what many have described to me as paradise.
Tuesday 31st July 2007
The ocean is calm for the two hour ferry crossing to the island, but the catamaran still lurches violently due to the speed at which it travels, a few people are sick, including the crying infant next to me, the smell of regurgitated fish is soon replaced by the smell of freshly caught fish when we arrive at the docks.
Kaplan, who’s been here now for 5 days, meets me from the boat and after showing me to a decent cheap hotel takes me on a tour of StoneTown and the fresh fish markets.
It’s a beautiful city, full of Arabic and European influences and architecture. It feels kind of like I’m back in the Middle East.
StoneTown - the oldest part of Zanzibar town has tiny winding alleyways in which it’s easy to get lost, my hotel is far from most of the touristy areas, but even after a few beers (and Kaplan missing his bus back to the beach he’s staying at) we still manage to find it without any problems.
I stay in StoneTown for a few days, waiting for Lian to arrive – an American girl I met in Arusha, she’s just completing her climb of Kilimanjaro and I just heard via e-mail that she successfully completed the ascent of the continents highest mountain. Well done Lian!
StoneTowns charm grows and grows the more time you spend here. Each foray into the city reveals new streets and alleys, the intricate wooden Arabic carved doorways never cease to impress.
Lian arrives with her (well earned) sunburned Kilimanjaro nose. I joke that it makes her look like a raging alcoholic: ironic as she doesn’t really drink…
We plan our expedition around the island, agreeing to first of all check out Jambihani on the east coast of the island.
A successful trip to Zanzibar should be totally uneventful. It’s a place to unwind, relax, eat, swim and sleep. Everyone I know that’s come back from the Island say they’ve never been so tired, “Perhaps happiness is more tiresome than one thinks” is how a friend Marc summed up his time here.
Finding a beachside bungalow we effortlessly slip into island life; eating at the local Rasta restaurant (where we occupied the sole table), swimming when the tide comes in and marvelling at the unreal turquoise waters for which this beach is famous.
When the tide recedes, the waters edge is almost a kilometre away, around half way between the coral reef and the beach.
After two or maybe three days (it’s hard to keep track of time here) we decide to see some more of the island, first we’re off to Kizimkazi, on the southern tip of Zanzibar to swim with dolphins.
We stumble across a community run hotel, staffed entirely by the local women’s group and right on the beach.
Within a few minutes of arriving, we’ve arranged for a boat to take us out to see the dolphins, its afternoon now and most of the tourists who come to swim with the dolphins do so on a day trip from Stonetown – by this time they’re already on their way back: we’ll probably have the dolphins to ourselves.
It takes some time to find the dolphins, but once we spot them there’s a rush of adrenalin, we’ll be in the water with them soon. They’re majestic creatures, graceful and curious. As soon as we’re in the water, I hear clicking – it’s the dolphins talking to each other and searching for fish, I only know this sound from wildlife documentaries, hearing it ‘live’ is quite an experience. A young dolphin just a few feet in front of me turns to inspect his new visitor. He turns and gives a curious glance accompanied by the thinnest and strangely mesmerising trail of bubbles from his nose. Within moments another dolphin surges up towards me – moving effortlessly towards the youngster still observing me and then as soon as I’m getting used to them they’re off – swimming far faster than I, to new waters and food.
The next half an hour is more like chasing dolphins than swimming with them. Our skipper waves us back to the boat as soon as they’ve passed and speeds off to get ahead of the pack for another dive. It’s clear by this point that they’re really no longer interested in us, they just want to fish in peace.
Watching them dive away from us, 30m down to the bottom of the ocean is still amazing, but I know I’ve had my ‘moment’ with them. Lian and I have beaming smiles – it’s a fantastic experience, but something about ‘chasing’ the dolphins doesn’t quite seem right. I’d hate to think what it’s like in the morning when 30 boats are hounding the dolphin groups.
Safely back on dry land we’re off to StoneTown, via Jozinni Forest, the home of Zanzibar’s red colobus monkey. The forest used to be home to the rare Zanzibar leopard, now sadly believed extinct.
After my last forest experience I’m asking our guide about the types of ants they have here – he’s amused by my story and I’m ecstatic to hear that the ants here aren’t nearly as bad as in Uganda. After a short walk in the forest (which mostly consists of non-native hardwood trees) we’re off to see a group of ‘tourist friendly’ monkeys.
They really have no fear of humans; they pay us absolutely no attention as we gawp at them and marvel at how close we actually are.
These tiny primates eat as if they’ve been starved for months. They have just one focus – to find the newest, most succulent buds, shoots and leaves – the enthusiasm with which they stuff their faces is both amusing and fascinating.
We decide to hire a car to see the rest of the island… Taxi’s are extortionate (people here on 2 week vacations pay anything it seems) and the dala dala’s (local buses) are a nightmare… We manage to strike a deal for a car, a Suzuki 4x4 for $28 per day, a steal.
On our way to the north, we drop in to see part of Zanzibar’s dark history. The island was a hub for slave traders right up until the end of the 19th century. Dr Livingstone however did his bit and the British finally put and end to the trade in 1890. The cave we visited remained hidden from the british and in use until 1890.
The north of the island is where the young crowd head for bars, clubs and due to the lack of coral reef here - 24 hour swimming. It’s like being on a beach in the Mediterranean, so we head south again, finding what seems like the only free accommodation in the area, just south of Nungwi.
The beach here is possibly the most beautiful on the island.
It’s also on the right side of the island to watch the sun set, our first week has been spent on the west coast, and we’ve not yet woken up for sunrise – something the locals tell us is a shame to miss.
An evening of lobster, squid and fresh fish is followed in the morning by hiring a two man sea kayak and a fairly tiring paddle to an adjacent island. It’s rumoured that an island near here is the source of voodoo magic, but all we find are (as usual) kids asking for money.
With only a few days left on the island we head back to the west coast – towards Bweju, just north of Paje.
Accommodation again is a problem, it’s best to book in the high season, but we have a bungalow for the night, and tomorrow can sleep in the staff quarters, which is an open air room with curtains for walls and a spectacular view of the ocean.
I’ve had an incredible time on Zanzibar and a great time getting to know Lian. I’ve been fortunate on my long safari to have met so many incredible people, I’ve another new friend who I’m really going to miss.
Our trip back to the mainland is painless – once reunited with M we head south to Kipepeo beach. The campsite “kipepeo beach resort” is jam packed with overland trucks and teenagers – so we head a few miles down the beach and find a new resort, not yet opened – but happy for us to camp.
The fresh prawns and fish bought just a few hours before in the Dar Es Salaam fish market (which was quite an experience) are cooked over a coconut and charcoal fire. There’s no-one here – with the exception of our Massi escari (guard), the beach is quiet – the only sound: the waves lapping at the beach.
I’m cooking pancakes for breakfast – some confusion arose, pancakes are crepes in the US, we are indeed two nations divided by a common language.
After a wonderful swim and a brief James Bond moment it’s time for us to head towards the Airport via Dar.
I’m sad to see Lian go – it feels like we’ve known each other for years, not just a couple of weeks…
As soon as I walk back to the airport carpark to pick up M a prostitute approaches and says “So, now your wife is gone can we go to my place?” what a sales pitch!
I head back to Dar, to the YWCA for the evening (alone), feeling quite sad that my new friend is now cruising at 36000 feet towards Europe.
After a good nights sleep I get a call from Rob, he’s at Kipepeo beach with all of the READ International volunteers who’ve now arrived from all over the UK ready to distribute the 100,000 books they’ve brought to Tanzania this year. Not wanting to hang around in Dar any more than necessary I head off to meet them.
The READ team are a lot of fun – mostly 21 – 25 years old, we spend the afternoon bodysurfing the waves which break just by the shore, only a few minor injuries ensue, mostly friction burns caused by landing on the sand. In the evening we make a beachfire and watch the ‘metor shower’ which Rob reliably informs us (from the BBC website) is expected for the early hours of the morning.
I see just a few shooting stars; the light pollution here is quite bad, compared at least to most of my journey. After joining the obligatory skinny dip in the Indian Ocean, it’s off to bed.
I’ll be joining Rob in travelling to Parliament in Dodoma on Wednesday, documenting his meetings with MP’s and senior cabinet ministers for the BBC. The camera I’ll be using is from BBC South East region and the footage will be used in a local news story and possibly a national piece later in the year.
So it’s back to Dar for another day and a half – there’s a few jobs which need doing (like sourcing a new auxiliary battery), so it’s by no means time wasted, just dull!
Wednesday 15th August
The drive to Dodoma is slightly more interesting than I’d imagined, mountains rise from the horizon and the heat just builds and builds… Dodoma itself was built by the father of Tanzania after independence from the British in the 1960’s, it was intended to unify a divided country, to be seen as a step away from Dar Es Salaam and the historical, but very regional power base which was the centre of Tanzania’s pre independence nation.
The government have big plans for the city, but since it’s inception 40 years ago, there’s not a great deal here other than the parliament buildings and the business’s that rely on the trade which it brings.
Tanzania however is sticking to its policy. Rob’s main contact at parliament and the MP for Shinyanga who’s invited us here today insists that in the long term, Dodoma will be a truly great capital city. There’s a new university being built, with a capacity of 40,000 students – almost a city in itself.
In the evening, we’re taken for dinner by our host, and end up eating with a cabinet minister, the former general secretary for CCM – the ruling party here, and meet with countless other MP’s and ministers who are all keen to talk to Rob about his work here.
It’s the first real government involvement READ have had with their project to date, previously the organisation has interacted with regional officials, there’s a great deal of interest from all we meet – and one recurring question “can I have some books this year please?”/
I sympathise with Rob, who plans the destinations for the books over a year in advance – he’s unable to help now, but this increased profile, and our presence in Parliament tomorrow should give him the support he needs from the government to really take the charity to the next level, to provide even more educational materials to Tanzanian schools.
Thursday 16th August
We arrive in the morning and after some fairly brief security checks are shown into the parliamentary chamber. They start early here – at 8am, followed by a long lunch from 1pm until 5pm!! After which there’s another 3 hour evening session.
After the traditional parliamentary opening (a soldier marching through with something heavy and important), we’re introduced to parliament by the speaker. We’re required to stand and take a bow as the introductions are made and the speaker wishes us a wonderful visit to his country, and then recommends visiting Zanzibar.
I was introduced as “Chris Noble, a freelance journalist working with the BBC”
The rest of the day is a non-stop whirlwind of meetings. On our way to a meeting with the Minister for Education we’re introduced to the Prime Minister (long enough to shake hands and some brief small talk). You could tell he was important by his approach, his whole appearance and the fact he was flanked by three simultaneously talking aides who appeared to be trotting alongside, even though the Prime Minister was only strolling.
The meeting with the Minister for Education was on the whole a good meeting – only slightly marred by her constant yawning (we’ll edit that out)!
After the ministerial meeting, we’re off to meet the deputy minister for education, before grabbing some lunch and Rob chairing a session of 12 MP’s whose schools will be receiving books this year from READ International.
The next 24 hours included more meetings, more food with high-flying CCM party members – and a weird invitation to a CCM internal party election campaign dinner. A new – upcoming politician was wining and dining potential supporters, including a few ministers – we sat, eating, politely listening to the speeches – although as it was all in Swahili couldn’t understand a word. Before we finally nodded off, from this bizarre event we did one last interview with Rob’s main parliamentary contact – got more than enough great footage for some internal READ promotional material and left for a well deserved nights sleep.
The next day I’m off – on my own for the first time since Jordan, heading towards the Malawian border. I’ve had enough of Tanzanian politics for a lifetime.
The drive is steady, on a good gravel road. Stopping for a night in Iringa, at a well run Christian campsite I end up staying for two days, just because the food is so incredible. There’s a load of work to do on the car before continuing, so this is as good a place as any.
The next days drive to Mbeya is all on tarmac – I stay for one night in the town, before driving the next 100km towards the Malawi border. It’s been raining here – high on the plains, which makes my detour to my last stop in Tanzania – the Kaporogwe waterfall quite an interesting experience… The mud roads provide some fun off-road driving
The guide at the falls directs me on a shortcut to Malawi – some more dirt roads, passing through some tiny rural villages. I’m glad my time in Tanzania is ending with the real Tanzania, not with the flawless tarmac laid for the 2 week tourists. The people here are truly great, welcoming and warm – but to see the real Tanzania, you have to get off the tourist trail.
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