I had a vague plan to go to Mafia to see the Whale Sharks, but in my usual style it wasn't well thought out and I can say without any doubt that I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I left that disgusting YMCA hotel room in Dar that morning.
A Swiss guy I met on the ferry from Zanzibar to Dar decided last minute to join me and I think he was shocked and maybe a bit disgusted by my haphazard travel-style of making plans along the way through texting friends and asking locals in broken Swahili.
I had come to the conclusion through Thorn Tree and a lot of texts to friends, all of which seemed to contradict eachother, that the boat left at around 10AM and I decided to follow the vague dala instructions from the person I actually knew. After a lot of questions and maybe a little luck, we found ourselves on a dala headed for a village called Nyamisati. I spent the entire ride speaking to this woman and another guy in Swahili and was feeling pretty confident in my progress with the language. I learned that she was a Mafia resident with two children who had been visiting her mother in Dar. I also determined that there was no way we would be arriving in Nyamisati by 10AM, but that there was another boat that left at 12PM and the man I was talking to was the captain of the boat. I think I may have been a bit overconfident in my Swahili abilities.
When we finally arrived in Nyamisati, we discovered that in fact the bus had left at 8AM and there wouldn't likely be another bus until that time the next morning. A very friendly man escorted us to the hotel which had no running water or power, but looked much better than the other one which appeared to be somewhat like a mud wall shower stall where people just lay out on the ground. Apparently a bunch of years earlier some Westerners had lived in Nyamisati for a while to conduct Malaria research and when they left their house was turned into a hotel. I am not entirely sure what we would have done if this hadn't occured, but the fact that this town was specifically studied for Malaria wasn't very comforting considering I was no longer taking my Malaria meds.
There are two bars in Nyamisati and one other restaurant. They are the only buildings in the village that get lights, there is one central hose which has the only running water for the town, and their fridges are boxes with giant blocks of ice that are brought in on the boats every morning. The nicest restaurant was kind of like a tree house and while we were eating I watched a sick baby sitting in the kitchen throwing up into a woman's hand. We had a full day to kill so luckily the cold beer lasted.
Despite the local's assurances that these were excellent conditions for Nyamisati, the mosquitos were insane and the heat was worse (apparently during high tide you can't even open your mouth without mosquitos flying in). I covered myself in bug spray, but they buzzed in my ears and bit me through my pants and any other tiny area that didn't have spray. Sleeping in that heat without a fan was destined for failure. I probably slept three hours and the bed was soaked with sweat when I woke up. I thought that was disgusting enough, but sadly it was entirely overshadowed in the light of day. When I woke up and looked around, I noticed something weird in the corner of my bed, right next to my head. On closer examination I concluded that, yes, it was a small pile of poop. This poop was not there when I went to sleep.
On our way to the dock, the owner of the hotel thanked us and urged us to return soon. I assured him that I would return with enthusiasm during high tide.
As expected, the boat was an hour and a half late. It was an old wooden fishing boat and we had to wait on the docks for them to unload the prawns, octopus, and giant fish before we could board.
In order to get onto the boat, you had to climb down these steep stone steps ending in a cliff where you had to jump down a step at about chest height. This is not a generally easy feat with a large, heavy backpack on but we were blessed with an additional challenge: Tanzanians. In a manner that they chose to conduct themselves in upon every entrance and exit of the boat, they proceeded to punch and push eachother in a desperate and savage battle that seemed much more fitting in a battle for the last life boat on the Titanic than for an entrance to a boat where everyone gets seats.
We made it onto the boat alive and then proceeded to watch about ten guys carry on this massive industrial freezer which was about three times the size of a regular deep freezer. They carried it down the cliff and pushed it up the entrance ramp and it miraculously arrived unscathed, on deck, with the passengers.
After four hours of rocking violently on the ocean waves, we arrived at Mafia. The boat anchored about 100M off shore and a small boat started heading towards us. It was the sadest looking little wooden dingy that appeared to be leaking severely. We tossed over our bags and hopped over the side of the boat into the dingy, praying that we wouldn't go straight through into the water.
We arrived at the beach and jumped out, happy to be back on solid ground, and wandered into town to find a hotel. That village of Mafia had three hotels, so that didn't turn out to be a difficult decision.
Granted, I was only in one part of the island so I can't speak for it in its entirety, but I can't think of any reason to visit Mafia other than the whale sharks. Other than the two expensive resorts, the food was all local so there were no vegetables to be found. I made the unfortunate mistake of taking a chance and ordering something called Mchemsho, which turned out to be cooked green bananas and this horrible and dry looking meat that was all cooked together in this black soup.
Also, the beaches on Mafia are tiny, covered in seaweed and dead fish, and the water looks like lake Ontario. The power on Mafia is shared between both sides of the island so you have electricity and water about half the time. Bucket showers were a necessity and computer time had to be planned meticulously.
We booked our whale shark trip for the next day and went to lunch where I had yet another lovely encounter with poop when a bird crapped on my arm. Despite several phone calls and plans to meet up with Carlos, the man organizing the whale sharks expedition, we woke up the next morning still never having met him and unable to get a hold of him. We located another man who Sebastien had been talking to about the whale sharks and he happened to know the boat driver who was supposed to be taking us. So that is how we managed to find our boat and get out in search of whale sharks.
It was a beautiful day for sailing, but the enjoyment wore off after three hours on the water when we realized that it was not a beautiful day for whale sharks. We returned to shore disappointed and unsure what the next plan of action should be.
I was determined not to leave Mafia without seeing them, especially after all of the effort to get there, so I tried contacting Carlos to see if we could work out a deal. Yet again, he made several plans to call us and/or meet up which never came to fruition and eventually stopped answering his phone. By the next morning when he still was not answering, we decided to head to the Whale Shark Lodge to try and hunt him down ourselves. We asked multiple people to send Carlos to meet with us, but each time continued sitting on the couch and waiting.
After about 15 minutes when we were starting to wonder whether the elusive Carlos even truly existed, a large African man finally entered the room and introdcued himself as Carlos. We worked out a deal to head out in the afternoon with another boat of people that was going.
I love sailing, but this time on the water I was not just sitting there enjoying the experience. Both of us were standing on the sides of the boat desperately looking out for any signs of a whale shark. Finally, one of the captains said he saw one and we headed to an area with two or three other boats. We put on our gear and they told us to jump. I couldn't see anything so I just kept swimming and trying to follow the crowd of people. I couldn't see anything and wasn't entirely sure if anyone else had. Finally, my boat waved me over and I went and got on. As we headed away, I saw Sebastien in the water and mouthed "Did you see anything?". He smiled and nodded. We kept driving and I could see a big dark shadow next to the boat. "JUMP", they yelled. So I did.
I let out a huge gasp. There it was. This massive whale shark. I had never seen anything that big so close up, let alone swimming in the water with it. It was all dark and covered in white spots with beady yellow eyes on either side of it's head. There were groups of fish swimming next to them the whole time; I'm not sure why.
We stayed there for about half an hour just jumping back in the boat and catching up to them again. At one point, one of them was swimming around in circles and we actually had to swim out of the way or it seemed we would suffer the same fate as Jonah.
4 AM came early the next morning. We were amoung the first ones to the dock, but that didn't make it any easier to get to the boat. When they finally called to start loading, everyone just ran. The first boat looked like it might sink and the "organizer" kept saying it was full so I figured I would let it go and wait for the next one. However, as he stood there yelling, people just kept running past him and jumping on the boat.
The second one was no better, but out of a misplaced sense of justice I felt like I needed to be on it since we were the first ones there. With my large backpack on my back, my purse around my shoulder, my small backpack in the front, and my skirt in hand we ran into the water. Entrance from the front of the boat would have been futile so the only option left was the side. In crotch deep water, I finally gave up on trying to keep my skirt dry and began tossing my stuff into the boat. Amoung all of this commotion, someone had haphazardly placed some sort of giant metal piece of machinery onto the boat. With the vigorous crashing on the waves, the metal piece loosened and went crashing down towards Sebastien's foot. Luckily, he was able to get away without breaking his foot, but in the commotion my purse went flying. That, as far as I can determine, is when I lost my camera.
I managed to pull myself over the side of the dingy and we headed to the fishing boat for the journey back. The usual scenario played out as everyone boarded the boat, but I learned my lesson and waited for the dust to settle. We were the last to board, just after the women with babies. The babies were tossed up in pretty much the same manner as the luggage. Not long after we boarded came someone with a bunch of bags made out of weaved leaves. After they were loaded on, I started hearing clucking and eventually the crowing of a rooster. "Are there seriously chickens in there?" Sebastien just looked at me and said, "Does that really surprise you?" It shouldn't, but every so often I have this moment: I am sitting on this sketchy fishing boat with no safety features of any kind, watching people punch eachother to board, and listening to the roosters cock-a-doodle-dooing under the seat and I just wonder if this can actually be real life.
When we arrived in Mafia, I just stayed seated and could do nothing but laugh as, yet again, the savage battle raged on. All around the luggage hold people were screaming at the bag guy and eachother in their haste to get their bags. We patiently waited for people to clear out before we got our bags and hopped on a dala to head back to Dar.
Sitting on the dala, was when I discovered my missing camera. Normally, I think this would have ignited complete panic and furry in me, but somehow it just didn't come. I was upset, but shockingly calm; what could I do? It was clearly long gone. And somehow that crazy experience was worth it.
No comments:
Post a Comment