After a crazy 24 hours traveling between point A (Stone Town, Zanzibar) and point B (Johannesburg), I thought it might be worthwhile to describe what the African version of travel can entail.
ON THE FERRY…
I boarded the ferry on Sunday afternoon, a high speed catamaran, slightly outdated (but top of the line for 1985) for the usually two hour trip between Stone Town and Dar Es Salaam (both in Tanzania). The weather seemed fine - it was sunny and steaming hot. Granted the water had been too rough for snorkeling earlier in the day, but really, there was no indication of eight to ten metre plus swells and gusting winds that awaited us anywhere near the city.
To start, the Zanzibar Town ferry ‘terminal’ is like a third world zoo. Hundreds of bodies pushing and shoving to get on board the boat…unwashed bodies…very sweaty bodies. The smell of curry and serious B.O. was compounded by extreme humidity and the hot sun. There wasn’t much seating, so people were just strewn across the cracked, dirty pavement. And the luggage situation was random as well – people had fridges, old tvs and random piles of outdated electronics equipment, though surprisingly no farm animals. After a hectic boarding where I managed to fight my way to a seat on the back deck, beside a particularly ripe smelling gentleman and a floor littered with Muslims, we were on our way. I was really enjoying the nice sunny weather for the first half hour…and then it got ROUGH. Huge swells, waves coming up over the boat, smashing in our faces – everyone and everything was drenched and sliding around precariously. The catamaran was slapping down hard into the water and rolling precariously from side to side. It was literally like being on a roller coaster. This being Africa, there was of course no life jackets on board – and the knowledge that if anything happened, no one would come to the rescue, and land was out of sight. People were vomiting everywhere – all over each other and the floors. The smell of vomit mixed with curry and BO was absolutely disgusting. I’m so glad I don’t get seasick. I’m fairly certain I was the only person on that boat not retching, but I was soaked and too busy making pacts with god that if he/she let me survive the boat ride I would be a much nicer person forever more to focus on bringing up my lunch. I really did not want to die on a sketchy boat off the coast of Africa, surrounded by strangers. The usually two hour boat ride took 4 hours and Freddy, who was picking me up in Dar told me that when he went to ask where the boat was the officials at the terminal were worried it might not make it. Needless to say, I have vowed to avoid all ferries in the developing world from now on. Actually, I will not be found on any small boat in stormy waters in less than a life jacket and wet suit.
ON THE CITY…
When we limped back in Dar nearly two hours late and spent, I was desperate to shower, being covered in salt and the smell of sick people. However it was not to be. The power was out for the entire city, which is a regular occurrence and the emergency generator was also broken. So despite my filthy state, we went for a nice dinner in hopes that it would be fixed in the meantime. Nope. So I used my ipod to light my way up the stairs to my room. Even though there is no hot water in Tanzania, I figured I would make do with a cold shower in the dark. Nope again. There was no running water either. And in the dark I couldn’t even open my suitcase to get my toothbrush and a bottle of water. I also couldn’t pack my suitcase for my 5:30 am trip to the airport the next morning. So, with no other options, I crawled into bed, poking around in the dark for the opening in the mosquito netting, fully clothed to sleep, smelling like god knows what…and to be dripped on like Chinese water torture by the disabled air conditioner. The lights came back on suddenly at 3 am, at which point they were the last thing I wanted to see.
ON THE AIRPORT…
At 5:30 am I was happy to see the power was still on, even though I continued to be without running water. At least I was able to SEE my suitcase in order to pack it.
Freddie dropped me at Dar Es Salaam International airport. Due I suspect to the Muslim leanings of the population, a number of security checks must be cleared the first of which is the terminal entrance. So I put my bags on the x-ray machine, which had large signage asking people to ignore the security staff’s bribe requests, and walked through – to find the security guy trying to loot my purse. I stood there watching (he didn’t realize I was) as he searched for my wallet and valuables. I then asked him what exactly he was doing. He was only mildly embarrassed at getting caught (he was actually probably more disappointed – he hadn’t yet found something to steal), saying ‘oh, this is yours’ and sheepishly handed it over. Luckily I had packed well and he didn’t find anything. This, I repeat, is the airport security.
I checked in and then promptly went through the wrong security check, which is easy to do when there is no signage in any language. I was a little nervous about clearing security since I had several large cans of bug spray (malaria requirement) and sunscreen stuffed in my bag. Not to worry, I cleared all three security checks with ease since they don’t even look at what’s in your luggage (unless it’s something they want personally). They did manage to dump my jewellery upside down in the x-ray machine, but luckily it all came out the bottom and could be found scattered on the floor underneath.
As I entered the gate I was grilled about my passport for more than ten minutes while an assortment of nefarious looking characters file past unquestioned. The officer held it up to various lamps and x-rays convinced it was a fake. Because really, I don’t look like a legitimate Canadian at all. Maybe he thought I was a Chinese spy…. I’d say perhaps he was concerned about the Middle Eastern stamps I gathered earlier in the year, but literacy isn’t big in these parts so I’m fairly confident he couldn’t read what they were.
As we sat waiting for the plane, another power outage struck leaving the entire airport in the dark. Luckily it’s not a busy airport and most people had already cleared security. So, sans power we finally boarded the plane. A large, piss drunk man in army boots (not to stereotype, but I’d put my money on him being Nigerian- they are as notorious here as elsewhere) was bothering everyone in the waiting area. I couldn’t believe they were going to let him on the plane, but was becoming less surprised by anything at this point. Once we’d all boarded and seated, there was a delay during which a group of soldiers and armed police got on board to haul off the drunk. Turns out he was some kind of dangerous criminal. Awesome. Luckily I was seated beside the former Tanzanian ambassador to Canada for the flight – an interesting man to talk to. Thank god because my mood was turning seriously foul at this point.
And THAT is a fairly typical travel in Africa experience. I wonder what adventures Namibia holds in December.
Lessons learned:
Hide your wallet and passport deeply in your belongings
Carry-on luggage only
Always carry toilet paper (there is none) and hand sanitizer
Be careful when buying anything – they will try to change the price when it’s time to pay. Also, count your change.
Nowhere accepts credit cards
Carry lots of USD because no one wants the local currency
Bring lots of extra camera batteries because no adapters seem to fit the outlets
Spend one night in a nice hotel…you have no idea how amazing a hot shower feels after days/weeks without one
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