It’s noon. We
sit on plastic Pepsi chairs under a thatched banda on Matema beach, overlooking
mountains and Lake Malawi (or Lake Nyasa,
depending on which map you’re using). We are alone, apart from two women
washing their clothes on the shore, and a Tanzanian family with two older wazungu
enjoying the sun and swimming. It is while sitting on the edge of Africa’s
third largest lake that we have found time to reflect on our first three weeks
of vacation in Tanzania.
There have been many moments when we have said, “We have to blog about this.”
In this blog, you will find highlights of the five places we have visited, from
the commercial capital of Dar es Salaam to Tanzania’s Southern
Highlands. Dar es Salaam: Kunduchi Water Park and the Cinema at Mlimani City mall
We spent our
time in Dar enjoying activities you can’t find anywhere else in Tanzania. We
discovered Dar is a highly accessible city, with our friend Simeon, a student at
the University of
Dar and the son of one of
our partners in Karagwe, showing us the way. The bus system will get you where
you want to go for only 300 shillings, or about 20 cents.
I had planned to
see The Hunger Games with my good friend Laura Kocsis once I returned to the
states, but when I saw the show times at Mlimani City
mall in Dar, I jumped at the opportunity. After paying only 8,000 shillings, or
five bucks, we sat in the air-conditioned theatre and enjoyed the movie. The
theatre was complete with a popcorn machine, comfy seats, and 3-D glasses.
After seeing the movie with Simeon and a tourist from Israel named
Shy, we all ate ice cream.
Later that week,
after a disappointing visit to a low tide shore filled with dangerous sea
urchins, we traveled north to Kunduchi
Water Park,
hesitant about what we would find. We found an empty park with pools, slides, a
lazy river, and a water play place for kids. We paid 7,000 shillings per person
and were happy with what we found. After arguing a bit with the staff to turn
on all of the slides and keep them on, we had a great time. We stayed for four
hours soaking up the water and running up the stairs to go down the slides
again and again. Throughout the day, no more than 10 other people entered the
park. Tourist season must be huge; otherwise I’m sure the park could not keep
its doors open. We left our YWCA hostel in Dar after a week, and traveled south to Iringa.
Iringa: the “Cheeseburger,” Volunteering at Neema Crafts, Football, and Conversations with Missionaries
There are a few
restaurants in Iringa where tourists can get good food which differs from the
typical Swahili fare of rice, ugali, beans, and meat. One of these places is
called Lulu’s. Lulu’s, we came to find out, is one of two restaurants open for
dinner. This discovery was unfortunate after our unpleasant first experience,
where we openly argued with the manager. Paul ordered a cheeseburger with
chips. They brought out a bun with cheese, lettuce, and tomato for Paul. My
plate arrived 15 minutes later, and the server quickly answered, “Yes” when
asked whether Paul’s burger patty was coming. We assumed they were still
cooking it (silly us). After I finished my food, and Paul ate his chips, Paul
went up to the counter and clarified with the staff that he expected meat with
his cheeseburger. They realized he wanted a “cheese beef burger,” which wasn’t
an option on the menu. They brought the cheese beef burger five minutes later,
and Paul ate it. The server had not taken away the original cheeseburger, so
Paul consumed it, not wanting it to go to waste. We walked to the counter to
pay, and were unhappy to see both the cheese and cheese beef burger on the
receipt. The manager argued that Paul ate the cheeseburger and was satisfied by
it, so he had to pay for it. I explained his dissatisfaction with wasting
anything, but she adamantly argued that she needed to show her boss either the
uneaten bun or 2,000 shillings. We did not want to pay for their mistakes (i.e.
- giving Paul the wrong burger and not taking away the old one if it was to be
saved.) She tried to tell us Tanzania is different from where we are from, and
Paul was quick to reply that he has ordered many a cheeseburger in various
parts of Tanzania and has enjoyed meat every time. I gave her the 2,000
shillings after several minutes of arguing. But, I ended the conversation
calmly by saying, “Sure, you can show your boss that you now have the 2,000
shillings, but you should also tell him that you had two very unhappy customers
leave the restaurant tonight.” She returned the money and said good night. Paul
was happy to take it and go. I reflected about the attitudes we have
encountered here concerning customer service which differ from those at home.
In the States, the service sector is customer-friendly and the customer is
usually understood to be right. There have been many instances here where a
problem with the service or among the staff is argued to be the customer’s
problem. But, at least we’ll always have a crazy story of the cheeseburger with
no burger.
Fortunately, we
did not leave Iringa with this experience on our minds. We met the current
directors of Neema Crafts, a large non-profit organization which provides
handicraft-making skills to disabled Tanzanians and thereby gives them a steady
job and decent source of income. The directors are Ben and Katy, a young
Anglican missionary couple from the UK. Ben invited us to a volleyball
game at a local farm, and we were pleasantly surprised to find a group of wazungu
residents of Iringa, and healthy dogs who loved to be pet. It was a welcome
respite. Ben asked if anyone wanted to volunteer at Neema, and Paul and I took
him up on his offer. We spent the week scraping paint, sanding walls, and applying
fresh coats of paint. They were refinishing the kitchen and café. The café
workers were all deaf, and so we learned some Swahili sign language and spoke
very clearly so our mouths could be read. I stole away a few mornings in order
to work on job applications, and was able to complete a couple. Ben and Katy
welcomed us into their home, 
which was awesome. We saved on accommodation, and
were happy to eat dinners and stay with them. They cooked stir fry and chili for
us, and we cooked burritos and bought wine and cheese for them one night.
which was awesome. We saved on accommodation, and
were happy to eat dinners and stay with them. They cooked stir fry and chili for
us, and we cooked burritos and bought wine and cheese for them one night.
We had simple
but delicious lunches all week in the park. We ate peanut butter sandwiches,
cups of yogurt, and a different fruit every day. We rotated between fresh
papaya, pineapple, and bananas. You can’t do much better than a fresh, ripe
papaya, one of my favorites of Tanzania.
One of Paul’s
favorites is the football. He has embraced the international sport, I think, to
compensate for the lack of NHL, NBA, NFL, and MLB action here. He bought
himself an Arsenal jersey, to support the team he saw play when he was in England, and
can strike up conversations with virtually any man based on the topic. During
our time in Iringa we were fortunate to watch two important games in the world
of football.
We watched Manchester City claim their first English Premier
League title in over 40 years as they scored two goals in the final 5 minutes
of the game. It was an epic end to a
season of many ups and downs and we watched it surrounded by fans of Man City and
Man U.
Arsenal finished the season in 3rd place securing a Champions League
berth for next season, so Paul was content with the results.
The UEFA
Champions League Championship between Bayern Munich and Chelsea was the bigger
of the two games. Paul was rooting for Chelsea, another English
Premier League team that won in dramatic fashion on penalties. Bayern Munich outplayed Chelsea the entire game but it seemed that
fate was driving the Blues to victory.
Despite the recent playoff dismissals of the Flyers and the Sixers, Paul
has been able to stay entertained abroad.
The last
highlight from Iringa was the guests Ben and Katy hosted one night after we
worked at Neema all day. Amethyst and Andrew: an American missionary couple
based in Goma on the eastern side of the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC).
We were happy to meet them and listen to what they had to say, as Goma has been
in the headlines for years now for the extreme violence, rebel warfare, and IDP
(internally displaced persons) population. Amethyst was quick to say the
situation is not as bad as the headlines make it out to be, but later told us a
story of a former child soldier threatening to kill them in a public meeting.
Their faith and courage to go into such a dangerous place was inspiring. Many
missionary organizations will not allow people in Goma right now, and soldiers
and UN peace-keeping forces are common. 75% of women have been raped as rape
has been a tool of war in recent years in Eastern Congo.
But, Amethyst and Andrew hold on to the hope and promises of God, and believe
Goma is where they are called to serve. They were in Iringa taking Swahili
lessons, after realizing that knowing Swahili would support their work. We all ate
together and enjoyed conversation after dinner. Ben broke in and ended the
night around 11pm, when we were deep in theological discussions concerning salvation
and eschatology.
Iringa had
treated us well, but after staying for a little over a week, we moved on to
Mbeya.
Mbeya: ESPN and HBO with a Side of Flies, Great Food, and Fried Bananas at the Market
We stayed at the
Holiday Lodge and Restaurant in Mbeya, a place I had seen on a tourist forum
online as inexpensive but good. We were happy to find a big room with a nice
big bed, our own bathroom with a shower and hot water, and to top it all off a
television with the most channels we have ever seen in East
Africa. Paul watched ESPN and I caught the tail end of a Project
Runway show. We watched a Krueger movie, and I got excited for Halloween back
in the States. We were a short ten minute walk into town, and were really happy
to have found the place (I patted myself on the back for research well done.)
But then, night came. We stayed two nights, and each night, we woke to hear
dogs fighting. At least six dogs would fight for hours in the compound right
next to ours, and we lay awake, unable to sleep. The next morning, we sat down
for chai (tea, but used commonly to mean breakfast) only to discover that only
tea and bread came with the room. And, their dining room was full of flies.
Dozens of them flew all over the tables and in and out of the kitchen window. On
little sleep, it was enough to drive us crazy.
Mbeya made it up
to us after dinner the following evening. After an okay dinner in town, we
walked home wanting to buy a papaya at the market for breakfast the next
morning. Not expecting success because
it was after dark, we glanced up to the market only to be warmly welcomed by
people admonishing us to join them. We entered the market to find men sitting
in a circle with a mama roasting bananas over a charcoal fire. They quickly put
bananas in our hands, and said they were happy to see wazungu in their
neighborhood. The men were waiting for the truck shipment of pineapple which
had gotten stuck in an accident and was three hours late. Paul accepted the
offer of an avocado, and the mama immediately plucked one from a surrounding
table, ripped it open with her hands, and gave him half. We ate the sweet
bananas, crunchy on the outside and warm and moist on the inside. We exchanged
some small conversation with our new friends, but the truck arrived shortly
afterwards and they were off to work. We walked away happy with the sweet taste
of bananas and good feeling from their warm welcome still lingering.
Before traveling
to Tukuyu and Matema Beach, we had one last dinner. I decided we should check
out a place with a half-hidden sign promising pizza and burgers. I’m always
doubtful of pizza here— the cheese never tastes right to me. But we took a
chance and found a bare room with a glass case full of old-looking cake. We
were pleasantly surprised to discover the upstairs with a trendy atmosphere and
lots of young people. I ordered the tropical chicken pizza with pineapple and
Paul ordered a double cheese burger (this time, it came with meat). When the
food arrived and we began, I could not stop talking about how good it was.
After a lot of rice and beans and chips and chicken, this dinner was amazing.
So good in fact that I sat down and wrote a note to the owner complimenting the
food. We were happy we had stumbled upon it. Ever since that meal, we’ve been
comparing every wazungu meal with it, never quite as satisfied. The place is
called Metro Cuisine. After finishing our burger and pizza, we walked into town
to find more chocolate-banana shakes, which we had discovered the night before.
A wonderful mix of natural and fake tastes, the shakes are amazing at Sombrero.
Whenever I find some food that is reminiscent of home and tastes great, I soak
it up like a well needed rest after a long journey. In this situation, it was the
good stuff we needed before embarking on a long safari to Tukuyu and Matema,
which would prove to be a challenging five days.
Tukuyu: An Overly-Ambitious Excursion with Awesome Rewards
We set up an
excursion with Rungwe Tea and Tours, an initiative of a cooperative joining
15,000 small-scale tea farmers in the district. Our coordinator, David, spoke
very good English and was great in helping us figure out which activity we
wanted to do. Paul wanted some hiking and I wanted to see the waterfall. We
planned with David to bike to and from Kaporogwe waterfall and hike down to the
hanging bridge from the same point. He warned us that it was a tough ride, but
do-able. I thought of the biking I did in Pittsburgh and all of the squats and
lunges I did in Karagwe this past semester and was confident. Can you tell
what’s going to happen?
bridge. Paul gingerly walked across, stopping at one point to test the bridge’s
bounciness. I cross, holding on to a cable the whole time and freaking myself
out in the middle when I look down. One of our guides is too afraid to cross,
but we watch an old man with a briefcase cross like he does this every day,
with a bounce in his step, not holding on at all. We realize this is one of the
few ways people can cross the river, and some do it regularly. We ascended quicker than we descended; it’s not nearly as scary to go up as it is to go down, even though it’s more difficult. It’s a short walk to the waterfall, and the scene is beautiful. We walk through a line of water falling down the rock face into a recess behind the waterfall, and eat a great lunch we packed ourselves of peanut butter and sweet bananas on chapatti. After taking lots of pictures, we grab our bikes and start to ride back. We quickly realize how difficult it will be to ascend to Tukuyu with Chinese bikes without gears.
We were happy to
be finished, and spent the next couple of days trying to rest our bodies. My
feet and legs ache for days afterward. After one more night at Bongo Camping,
we decide to head to Matema beach to relax.
Matema: The Journey from Hell
I had heard from
a Peace Corps volunteer in Iringa that the trip to Matema was pretty rough, but
worth it if we had two days to stay there. Only 90 kilometers, or 54 miles,
lies between Tukuyu and Matema. How bad could it be? I had read and heard that
the Lutheran Center was a good, inexpensive place to stay. With this
information we were on our way.
We began our
journey at a leisurely pace, leaving Bongo Camp Site around 9am. Once we
arrived in Tukuyu town, we were told to catch a coaster on the road. We bought
warm, delicious mandazi from a mama walking down the sidewalk, and caught our
coaster with them wrapped tightly in newspaper. After negotiating some seats
for ourselves, we settled in for the ride.
After an hour
and a half, we arrive in Kiyela to find two daladalas ready to leave for
Matema. A Tanzanian man laughed with me when I said the daladala was “gari mbovu,”
a rotten vehicle. The vehicle was literally rotting, at certain points we could
see through the floor. Paul and I had to slump over the whole time, as our
heads continually hit the ceiling with each bump we hit on the unpaved road. We
ride for two hours in this daladala, stopping every 5-10 minutes to load and
unload passengers. The conductor instructs Paul to squeeze over so more people
can enter the daladala and he refuses. His legs are long, and even my short
legs don’t prevent my knees from pushing against the metal of the seat ahead. We
tilt dangerously close toward many ditches filled with water, and all I can
think of is the most common cause of death for expats in Africa: car accidents.
I find myself praying ardently that we arrive safely and envision my plan of
action if we were to tip. Finally, we make a stop where all of the passengers
get out, but I see no signs of Matema or the beach.
Our drivers tell
us to get out, and point to a large, open-air cargo truck and my blood boils as
I realize their intention. He gives 2,000 shillings to the truck driver and
promises we won’t have to pay more, but all I can say is that he lied to us
when he said they would take us to Matema. People around us laugh, and I snap
back in Swahili asking why they are laughing. Miserable, we throw our bags on
the back of the truck and climb on. We wait for 45 minutes while people stare,
laugh, and speak in their mother tongue about us. Boxes of soap, biscuits,
bundles of bananas, canvas bags of flour, rice, and sugar, and personal loads
tied with kitenge are hurled in the back with us and packed in no particular
order. The owners of the precious cargo continually yell at the packer to put
their stuff as far back as possible to prevent it from falling out during the
ride. 25-30 people board with us, planks are set up over some of the cargo, and
I grab a seat on one, while Paul makes himself comfortable amongst the cargo.
We seem to stop
after every kilometer to let people board from the side of the road, each with
their load. Throughout the ride passengers yell at us to stop sitting and
standing on their cargo, though we are only sitting where we were told and have
literally nowhere else to put our bodies. “You will crush the biscuits! Ah, the
soap! My tomatoes!” We try unsuccessfully to move the cargo around, only to
find another layer of fragile boxes beneath. At one point the plank I am sitting
on falls on unsuspecting passengers sitting underneath it. I pop up quickly to
find two women have been hit on the head and shoulders. The truck stops and
everyone is sympathetic. People continue to complain about us on their boxes
and bundles. We are at the end of our ropes, and I yell “Tuache!” or “Leave us
alone,” while Paul, exhausted and annoyed uses sarcasm and just responds with
“Pole sana biskuti,” or “I’m very sorry, biscuits!”
We finally
arrive in Matema, after an hour and half ride on the truck. There is no
disembarking from the truck the way we got on. Paul gets out onto the roof of
the truck’s cab and jumps the 10 feet to the ground. I throw our book bags and
duffel bag over the top, climb onto the cab, and hang over the edge, where Paul
catches and slowly lowers me to the ground. We leave our fellow passengers, grumbling,
at least happy to have arrived at our final destination. We discover Matema is
a tiny town, but we easily walk to the Lutheran Center… only to find that they
have recently increased their prices, and they have no food in the advertised
restaurant because there was a big group of guests the previous week. The staff
snickers at me when I ask where we can find some good food in town. A friendly
young staff person, Martha, shows us a place to eat where we get rice and beans
and some beef for 3,500 shillings or $2.20 total. We decide we need some
alcohol and find a dark bar where we drink a couple beers each while watching
music videos.
After our
relaxing afternoon on the beach the next day, soaking up the sound of the
waves, we find a place along the shore where we can find something other than
rice and beans and fish. We have dinner and spend way too much on a single slab
of lasagna for Paul and an uncooked pizza for me. To be fair, I was surprised
there was anything geared toward wazungu in town, but was still very
disappointed after having the great pizza in Mbeya. We left Matema after only
two nights with a bad taste in our mouths.
After traveling
the 120 kilometers in six hours (yes that’s an average of 12 miles an hour) back
to Mbeya, we are now settled for the next three nights while we wait to take
the Tazara train down to Zambia. We have heard great things and have high
expectations for Livingstone Town and Victoria Falls. Until next time… Cheers!
