The purpose of the trip was both a holiday and a chance to reconnect with a girl I had met four years ago. She arrived in Nairobi two days before we set off.
The purpose of the trip was both a holiday and a chance to reconnect with a girl I had met four years ago. She arrived in Nairobi two days before we set off.
Day 1
There are many ways to go to Dar es Salaam from Nairobi. If you choose to travel by road, it would begin with a walk down River Road. This is Nairobi’s departure lounge. Most bus companies that operate long distance routes within Kenya and across its borders start from here.
I booked a bus on the same day I was travelling. A ticket costs between Ksh2,300 and Ksh2,600.
Most of the ticketing clerks who work for the bus companies that travel to the Coast of Kenya and to Tanzania, speak very fast and fluent Kiswahili. It is the closest Kenyan Kiswahili accent to the one spoken in Tanzania. Listen for the day and time of departure of your booking and take note. You will not only have to decipher the accent, but also picture a clock in your head so that when the clerk says saa nne kasorobo you figure out that he is saying 9.45am. Reporting time is 30 minutes before departure.
I had chosen to travel by Tahmeed Coach. I boarded the bus and was happy to find the seats were large and luxurious, and the windows had curtains in case you wanted to keep the world out. In addition, there is a wireless data service on the bus, which can be accessed as long as the area you are passing through is covered by your mobile phone service network provider. The bus has three huge television sets strategically placed along the corridor.
Soon the bus left Nairobi. First of all, you have to contend with the most frustrating thing about any trip out of the city centre. For upwards of 30 minutes, you have moved just 100 metres as the bus finds its way through the labyrinth of back streets, working its way towards Mombasa Road — the main highway leading out of Nairobi to the east. Then you sit stewing for a while longer, as the bus goes through half the city to hit the highway proper. Then the hours roll by and everything becomes a blur.
Some people can look out of a window even during a night journey. They can be endlessly entranced by every flicker of light they pass by, but for me, a long journey is all about sleeping. The rocking of the bus, the drone of the engine and the monotony of the trip puts me to sleep much faster than any pill would.
Day 2
On the Tahmeed Coach on the way to Dar, you have to keep your wits about you. This is because, when you get to Mombasa at 5am in the morning you have to change buses. If you sleep through this important step you will wake up to find yourself in Malindi, further up north the Kenya Coast, in the opposite direction from Dar es Salaam.
The slow ones also risk getting left behind, as almost happened to us. We were dropped off a little distance from the Mombasa Tahmeed offices. The kind driver of a three-wheeler taxi — called tuk tuk in Kenya and bajaji in Tanzania — offered to give us a ride to the office since he was heading there.
By 5.30am, Mombasa was bustling into life. It was the third week of the holy Muslim month of Ramadhan, so that could explain why on this early Saturday morning there were gangs of children already walking around fresh-faced and high spirited.
Once settled in our seats on the bus to Dar es Salaam, the baggage handler sat next to us. He smoked one cigarette after another as he assisted every passenger to put their luggage in the hold.
We set off at 6am. In order to get to the border crossing of Lunga Lunga on Kenya’s South Coast, from Mombasa, you have to take the ferry at the Likoni channel to the mainland. All passengers disembark from vehicles to get onto the ferry. Only the drivers are allowed to stay in the vehicles, for safety reasons.
The bus conductor reminded the passengers of this requirement. I had no idea what was going on since I was not paying attention, until when he stopped by my seat and enunciated every word and I sensed the thinly veiled insult. Then he told me that it was all right for me to stay on since children were allowed to stay on the bus, but he asked that we draw the curtains.
The morning sun was just filtering through the clouds and early morning mist and we all looked like ghostly silhouettes, with the curtains drawn. The bus was quiet except for these two teenagers, who seemed very pleased with their ability to smile and take a picture at the same time. Of course pictures need light and so they opened their curtains. Their giggles were the only human sound on the bus.
It takes about two hours from Mombasa to the Lunga Lunga border crossing. The road is tarmacked all the way.
Borders in Africa are very similar. You arrive at the crossing, get out of the vehicle, queue to be served by the immigration clerks, have a pen ready to fill out the required details, put the form in between your passport, put all your fingers on the electronic fingerprinting device and look into the camera. Then your passport gets an “exit” stamp.
You cross over to the other country’s immigration office and repeat the process. Once you are cleared with an entry stamp on your passport, you board your vehicle and proceed with your journey — depending on how fast it has been cleared by Customs, police and immigration officials from both countries.
So just like that, we were in Tanzania. Hours later we were in Dar es Salaam, or at least the outskirts. The journey from Mombasa took us almost nine hours. There is usually a half-hour lunch stop in Tanga, but we did not stop because of Ramadhan.
It’s frustrating to be on the outskirts of a city and have no idea whether the traffic jam is normal or just one of those days when it does not move hours on end.
We had booked our hotel in advance, but first we needed food. After getting off the bus at around 5pm, we thought we could just walk around and find an eatery, but that does not happen during Ramadhan as we were soon to learn.
However, there are people in Dar es Salaam who will go out of their way to help you. They will not only direct you, but also carry your bags, envelop you in camaraderie, play on your Kenyan lack of confidence in Kiswahili by complimenting it, and only ask for a little money for their trouble.
Our good Samaritan was called Juma; he turned out to be a waiter at the restaurant he took us to, and this is where I had my first meal of chips-mayai. I had wanted to try this since I visited Uganda a couple of months ago and had a “rolex,” which is a meal of eggs, tomatoes, onions and cabbages rolled inside a chapati. Whenever I mentioned this to someone who had been to Tanzania, they told me that it had nothing on the chips-mayai served there.
It just so happened that after we had had our meal and were ready to go to our hotel, Juma announced that his shift was over. I handed him the notebook with our hotel name and address. He took us on a tour of the city, one filled with a lot of stops to ask for directions. In the end, we were lost and so tired that we stopped at a place near the ferry crossing to Zanzibar and hunkered down for the night.
Next week: Day 3, morning in Dar es Salaam