Fear

 

Jinja, Uganda (Feb. 20-21)
I never thought of myself as a brave person. As a child, it took me forever to go on a roller coaster and I have always had a great fear of drowing, needles, bugs, and snakes amoung other things. Just a month ago when I was at the hot springs it took me a good two minutes to jump on the swing that drops you into the water. But in my time travelling I have learned a lot about fear and my relationship to it. I find myself, weekly, doing things I never imagined I would do. It is a life changing moment when you have something that terrifies you to your core and you just look fear in the eye and keep putting one foot in front of the other.

When I was a kid I spent one summer at water sports camp where one of the activities we did was kayaking. Before we kayaked, the rule was that you had to tip your boat once to practice getting out in that position. I think I was the only one who got away with not doing it because I flat out refused. Being trapped under water is my greatest fear and there was no way I was doing that. I am not sure when I booked my trip to go white water rafting that I fully considered that it could potentially be my greatest fear manifested. I was taken back to that moment in time as a sat in the rafting boat on the Nile and our guide explained that we would now practice what to do when the boat flips. I actually felt like I might throw up as we counted down to the flip, but that paled in comparison to what was ahead.

Flying over rapids and down waterfalls, our boat flipped twice. Both times, in my panic, I gasped and sucked in a bunch of water and therefore came to the surface choking up water as I flew around in the white, crashing waves. I am not sure where I got the strength to continue on but somehow I finished the day: Eight rapids in total.

At the end, we jumped out of the boat and let the current of the Nile float us down to the bus, which was the perfect way to wind down after a terrifying day.

Three days before I went to Jinja, I spent almost a full sleepless night playing out the jump in my head and becoming more and more nervous. I don't know if it was from my experiences rafting the day before or just my change in mentality, but somehow I climbed the stairs and jumped towards the Nile with nothing but a harness and a bungee around my ankles with barely a thought in my head. It was like I was on autopilot and didn't really believe or think about actually doing it until that moment when I tipped off the platform towards the river. It was an amazing rush.




After travelling on my own to Africa, bungee jumping, white water rafting, staying in a room filled with giant cockroaches, getting blood taken in a dirty room with needles all over the floor, rocketing down the pot-hole-filled streets on a boda boda (motorcycle) with three other people and no helmet, and responding to a feeling that our boda driver might be driving us somewhere sketchy by quietly grabbing my swiss army knife and sticking it in my bra "just in case", I somehow feel like I'm not the same person I was when I sat on that plane three months ago in Dar Es Salaam shaking with fear.

On the Road Again

Kampala, Uganda (Feb.12-13)
 
My original plan was to go to visit my friend Kristina in a village near Dodoma. I checked out of the Pop Inn and took a cab to the Dar bus station. This time, as I drove into the bus station, it was just like the first time: maybe worse. They were banging on the windows and one guy actally jumped into the front seat of the car. I started screaming at him in English and Swahili to get out of the car, but he refused. I definitely over-reacted, but I just felt so angry and violated. When the cab stopped, I handed him the money and quickly jumped out, forgetting my guide book in my haste. Someone handed it to me and I sped off towards the buses. It didn't take me very long to realize that my guide book was not the only thing I left in that cab. By the time I realized it, my phone was long gone, along with my plans to go to Dodoma.

The man who had jumped in the cab was still following me around and asking me where I wanted to go. Without knowing what to do or where I was going, I stormed out of the bus station in a blind rage and began walking down the road. A few minutes down, I spotted a hotel restaurant and went in for a drink. That was the first time I legitimately just wanted to be home. I was all alone, with no phone and all this after I had just lost my camera.

After about 20 minutes on the patio, I managed to talk myself down. I would need a new SIM card in Uganda anyways, my phone wasn't very valuable, and I only had a few days left on my Tanzanian Visa anyways; I needed to get out. Since it would cost me at least another 10,000Tsh each way to get to the Pop Inn and back in the morning, I reasoned that if I could find a nearby hotel that I could walk to then I should be allowed to spend around 30,000Tsh. Luckily, I was able to find just that, and I learned that there are very few things that can not be fixed by an air-conditioned room with no cockroaches (I averaged two giant cockroaches a day at Pop Inn) and a hot shower.

At 6:00 AM the next morning I was on the bus to Kampala. It was a typical African bus ride with men running around with boxes full of water and food on their heads, banging on the windows. Even when you are wide awake and looking straight at them, they still think that the banging will somehow increase their chances of a sale.

When we stopped for our washroom break, I laughed to think about my first washroom break in Africa when I refused to go because there were no sinks. We just pulled over to the side of the road in the middle of a field and people just stepped off the bus and squatted. Being the only Mzungu on the bus, I didn't feel like showing them my naked butt would make them stare at me less, so I began rationing my water in the usual balance between having to pee and dehydration.

At around 11:00 PM, we pulled into a parking lot and I realized that we were stopping there for the night. Apparently, in Tanzania, they are not allowed to drive the buses on the road at night (It always weirds me out a bit when I learn things you can't do here because they always seem so arbitrary). I had 700 Ush left, which was just enough for a small water and one use of the washroom. I have no idea what the hotel situation was, but I didn't really have an option: I was sleeping on the bus. I covered myself in bug spray, although I knew getting bitten was inevitable, then I stuffed my large bag between the seats beside me, locked my two backpacks together and put the strap through my ankle, wrapped my purse straps around me and tucked it under my arm, and snuggled under my kanga for a few hours of sleep. I probably slept a minute.

At 6:00 AM we were back on the road towards Uganda. I started talking to this Kenyan named Alex who eventually started asking me about my religion. When I revealed that I had grown up Catholic but that I was now agnostic, he just couldn't understand. He just kept saying, "but I don't understand, how do you not have a religion?" Finally, I just told him to drop it and we just agreed to disagree.

He moved back to the seat with his friend and another man got on the bus and joined me. Immediately after sitting, he turned to me and said, "Have you been saved?" "Yes. I am definitely Catholic", was the only logical response. I realized just how prudent this was when he later revealed to me that he was a minister. I feel a bit guilty that I took away his opportunity to save my soul though.

I clearly had not budgeted for a two day trip so I didn't really have money to eat. One thing people don't realize though, when they react in shock that I am a woman travelling alone, is how much more willing people are to help you in that position. Alex bought me a samosa and the minister shared his Sanene, which are these bugs similar to grasshoppers that are deep fried and covered in spices. They tasted like what dog food smells like and were the consistency of really over-cooked fish. I always say I will try anything once. Once was enough.

Getting the Visa at the border was even less complicated than Tanzania and after $50 US and a stamp I was in. We had to walk across the border and wait while they searched the bus. I had to go to the washroom, but was afraid that it would be another paid toilet since I had no money left. I was more excited than anyone should ever be to find a pile of rocks with a makeshift bambo fence proped around it. A free washroom where no one can see my butt: Score.

After a mood-lifting conversation about some Somali terrorist attacks that happened a few years previous in Uganda, we headed to Kampala. 

Mafia

Mafia Island (Feb. 7 - 9)
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.

 

Zanzibar

Stone Town, Zanzibar (Jan. 21 - Feb. 7)

Stone Town feels like a completely different world from what I was used to on mainland Tanzania. Where the mainland is all bare minimum, one storey buildings made of cement or mud with a roof of metal or palm leaf; Stone Town is this romantic coast town with narrow roads winding through Arabian style buildings with intricately carved wooden doors and balconies that make you feel like you walked onto the set of Casa Blanca. That being said, as can be expected such beauty attracts a large crowd of tourists. Stone Town is filled with air conditioned buildings, western-style washrooms, fancy restaurants, souvenir shops, and the prices that follow.

I actually spent far longer in Stone Town than I ever anticipated staying because I really didn't enjoy the city. Granted, it was beautiful, but there was something really cold about it. I think having so many tourists has somehow tainted the locals and created this really extreme separation between tourists and locals. To begin with, you are physically separated from the local areas by the elabortely winding streets that resemble the pattern of elephant skin and which contain no street names. Even with a map it is nearly impossible to keep track of where you are and once you lose your spot, there are no street signs to enable you to find it again. No one seems to know the names of streets and if anyone offers to help you, you can be sure they are a tour guide and are hoping to make some money out of it. While trying to find Luk Man (amazing local restaurant) one guy followed me to the restaurant despite the fact that I was ignoring him and then stood beside me while I ate asking me if I was going to give him money. There is this really unfortunate environment there where everytime someone helps you with anything, you are trying to figure out how they are making money at it. This even happens in Moshi, but anytime you are looking for something someone will offer to take you there and then they will overcharge you because they know your Good Samaritan will ask for a commission. One time, I came out of the post office with my backpack on and someone who I assumed was a cab driver came and asked me if I needed a cab. He escorted me the three feet around the corner that I would have gone anyways and took me to the first cab waiting there. When I arrived at my destination, the cab driver said that he had told him that i would give him (my cab driver) money to give to him after. I think that guilt trip normally works on Westerners.

I spent my birthday with some UK girls I made on the ferry from Dar. We went snorkeling at prison island, had a picnic on the beautiful and deserted beach, walked around with giant turtles in the turtle sanctuary, floated on our backs in the calm salty water, and then had dinner at a beach side restaurant where we smoked a hookah and were serenaded by two of the waiters that have a reggae band.

Our visit to the slave market was probably the most interesting part of Stone Town. The market area was turned into a church when the British shut it down, but the bunkers where they kept them are still there. It was eerie being down there and knowing how many people must have died in there. It is this big cement chamber and the place where they were is about waist height and right through the middle is a canal where there used to be water. The only access to fresh air was these three tiny slits of windows. The church itsef is a monument to the atrocities and part of the original whipping post still remains in front of the altar. After surviving three days in the bunkers, the slaves would be brought out and whipped in front of potential buyers to prove their strength. Those who didn't pass the test were killed or put back into the stuffy, disease filled bunkers. Strong slaves were sold for a hefty price. At the back of the church where a baptismal sink now stands is where the children that were too young to be of any use were slaughtered. Its hard to believe it is possible that such a place actually existed.

We spent one night in Kendwa for the full moon party, which was this amazing beach party right beside the ocean. Two of the girls fell asleep and someone came and stole everything. One girl even had her shoes stolen and had to walk home barefoot. I am constantly shocked at the extent of what people will steal in Tanzania.

We spent one day shopping in the stalls and met this Masaii man who offerred my parents 25 cows to marry me. I think I got a better price for my marriage proposal at the hot springs, but it was flattering none the less. When I laughed, he asked me how many cows it took to marry a Mzungu (white person). When I responded that he just had to get one to love him, he stared at me in complete shock: "YOU MEAN ITS FREE?! WOW I'M GONNA DO THAT". Any white girls looking to marry a Masaii man the 25 cows offer still stands.

We spent 3 days relaxing in Nungwi, which is a beautiful beach town. Our hotel was right on the beach so we basically did nothing but sit on the beach and read or swim in the waves. Just before we left I got sick (the details of which I won't disclose on the internet, but it wasn't fun). Being in this sketchy little local hospital and feeling as bad as I did wasn't exactly my ideal situation to be practicing my Swahili, but I was very glad I knew it.

 

Last Week in Moshi and Dar Part 2

Moshi and Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania
 
The day after climbing kili, I was right back at Chapakazi. I was exhausted, but was excited for my first day back since Christmas break started. That morning was one of the worst since I got to Moshi. I showed up at the school and only knew 2 of the children, the rest of them were all new. When the teacher arrived, she informed me that Christmas break was the end of their school year and that over half of the class had graduated to form 1 (primary school). I almost cried. I had no idea that would be the last time I would see them. The two kids who I knew had also somehow forgotten everything over Christmas break. They were no longer even able to write the letter A. On top of this, the regular teacher (Elizabeth) was gone for the entire morning to the hospital (she is pregnant). I often have trouble keeping control of the class with my minimal swahili, but it was harder without the older kids to help me out. It was an absolute zoo.

Later in the day Adelina, my contact at World Unite, stopped by and told me that they would organize a going away party where all of the kids would come back to say good-bye. I can't explain how happy I was to hear that. Then Elizabeth showed up and the children were complete angels. I don't understand how she has that effect on them. I couldn't be a teacher.

My last day in Moshi was spent frantically running around trying to get everything done. I transferred money so I could take some out to get things for the children's party, but I forgot about the time difference so wouldn't have the money until 4 or 5pm. Luckily, my volunteer coordinator lent me some money so we went and bought all of the food we needed to make beef pilau (popular Tanzanian spiced rice dish), as well as some fruit, juice boxes, and a cake. I also bought the kids a soccer ball, which deflated in about 30 minutes. The food was amazing and I could tell the kids loved it; they were especially excited about the cake. One of the women that work at the school took my camera and kept taking pictures of the cake and me cutting it. The cake was actually so ugly and looked like a really cheap wedding cake, but I appreciated the enthusiasm. She took a lot of very strange pictures; the cake pictures looked like wedding photos and she kept trying to get the kids out of photos so she could take them of me by myself or with my volunteer certificate. I don't think she really understood that I really just wanted the children in the pictures. I kids love the camera too and I spent about an hour just taking pictures and showing them. It never got old. They were literally rolling on the floor laughing.

I bought a lot of food because I don't think the kids get great meals at home so I wanted to make sure they all went home full of really good food. I did feel bad though when I looked around and saw all of the food that would be wasted, but this did not end up being a problem. After everyone was finished, they dumped all of the food into this big pot and these older children started coming in from out of nowhere (I have no idea how they even knew the food was there) and basically lining up outside and they sat around the pot and just ate it with their hands. Nothing went to waste.

 

There is this one kid named Isa who is the youngest one there, and when I arrived with the soccer ball I just handed it directly to him. After that, he thought it was his soccer ball so anytime someone tried to play with it and the entire time they were playing the game, he chased after it screaming and crying. He is the cutest.

Saying good-bye to the kids was the hardest. I don't entirely know if they understood that I will likely never be back there. I will really miss them though and the hardest part is that they come from such poor families, so I just don't know what will happen to them. Part of me just wanted to stay there and protect them forever.

After I left the kids, I went to the bank to get the money to pay back Adelina. When the ATM pushed the card back out, it was only sticking out by about a milimetre so I couldn't get a hold of it to pull it out. As I was searching through my purse for my swiss army knife to see if it would help, the card was pulled back in and the ATM said it was confiscated because I took too much time to take it out. The bank was already closed so I now had no money for another day, and was still in debt for the party money.

Luckily, I was able to get my card back in time in the morning to still be able to take the bus to Dar. I think that happens with the bank machines a lot in Tanzania. I would have thought that Barclay's Bank would be a bit better, but I don't think it really ever matters. When I went to pick up my card, they asked for ID but they don't actually have any records to connect card numbers with IDs. My bank card had only a signature on it to verify that it was mine, but they still gave it to me.

The bus from Moshi to Dar was as horrible as I remembered. The rest stop we went to was actually really nice and clean and the food was really good, but that was the only bathroom break we had in about 11 hours. The weather gets progressively hotter and more humid as you head towards Dar and on top of that, I think the Masaii man sitting in front of us peed his pants because the entire bus smelled distinctly like urine. I suppose it was understandable given the circumstances, but I spent the whole bus ride with my head out the window. The seats on the buses in Tanzania are also a lot closer together. I don't think I am a very tall person, but my knees were jammed right up against the seat. This means that you are sitting on the same part of your butt without a rest stop for about 9 hours straight, which isn't super comfortable.

It was interesting driving back into that bus station that terrified me so much at the beginning of my trip. I don't know if it was because I have been in Tanzania for 2 months now, or because it was at night, or because I was there with my local friend, but it was a completely different experience. It was actually very mellow.

The hotel room in Dar looked like a place you rent by the hour and there were no lights in the bathroom, but it had A/C and was 10,000 tsh ($7.50) a night so I wasn't about to complain. I spent 4 nights in Dar before I took the ferry out to Zanzibar. It is a lot more big city than Moshi so while it can be a bit overwhelming and confusing, people leave you alone a lot more. Downtown is like a maze, there are no street names, and every street looks the same; I don't think I would have been able to go anywhere if I didn't have my friend there to show me where to go. My favourite part was the beach, which is called Coco Beach. I went in the evening when it was really windy and sat on a beachside patio drinking and watching the waves crash in. I loved that beach and I seriously just wanted to never leave that spot. It definitely changed my opinion of Dar.

The next morning, I got a knock on my door at about 8am. I dragged myself out of bed to open the door to find the maid standing there. Without much explanation, she walked past me into the room, grabbed my sheets off the bed, and walked back out. After a few minutes of standing in a hungover daze looking longingly at my bed, I realized she wasn't coming back. Luckily, after a special request she brought back some sheets so I could sleep.

Another night in Dar we spent in classic Tanzanian style. We drank Konyagi in front of someone's house in a dark alleyway. Every so often you would see children walking by with buckets of water on their heads. I can't imagine ever letting my small child walk through a dark alley like that late at night, all by themself, but it is a different mentality here. On that porch was also where I met the cutest child I have ever seen in my life. We were all standing around talking and this kid that is about 4 years old just came into the middle of the circle without a word and put his fist out and began fist bumping each person in the group. I almost died it was so cute.

The day of the ferry to Zanzibar was a classic Tanzania morning spent wandering around Dar trying to find an ATM that would actually work; they frequently break down or run out of money. After about 5 different banks, I finally made it to the ferry port. Next stop: Stone Town, Zanzibar!

Kili

Mount Kilimanjaro, Tanzania (Jan. 2-7)

Day 1 (3000 M)

The first day was in the rainforest zone. It was pretty relaxed other than the rain and felt a lot like Algonquin. We got about an hour before the rain started, then it poured for the rest of our hike. We ate our lunches inside our ponchos. They were the same lunches we had on our safari that I could only eat about half of. That day, it was not a problem.

We arrived at Machame Hut at around 3:30pm. Rather than hanging out in my boring tent, I hung out in the Ranger hut with the ranger who was named Chacha. He told me that he had been up on the mountain for new years and hadn't celebrated at all, so I decided to have a belated New Years celebration for him. At 8pm me, Chacha, Peter (my guide), and Everest (another guide) had a dance party to Jennifer Lopez "On the floor" on Chacha's phone.

 

Chacha and I listening to tunes in the Ranger hut

They forgot to put my rain cover on my backpack, so pretty much everything I owned was soaked, as well as my mattress. Chacha lent me a nice matress from the hut, and I hoped that my clothes would eventually dry.

Day 2 (3840 M)

Perhaps for you, climbing Mount Kilimanjaro is not enough of a challenge. Maybe you enjoy taking polar bear swims, or for fun you like to dump a bucket of ice water on yourself and then camp out in a walk-in fridge. This is the only circumstance where I would recommend you climb Kili during the rainy season.

Day 2 started off well. It was a short day, but a challenging one since a good portion of it was climbing a big pile of rocks at about a 70 degree angle. It was a lot of fun though, I liked the challenging parts of the climb the most. This part of the climb was in the moorland zone, which was also so beautiful. There are a lot of rocks and the trees are shorter and sparser so you can see a lot further. At this point, you are essentially in a cloud, so the entire sky is cloud which shines a dim greyish light on everything. When you look over the edge, you see nothing but a steep slope of trees ending in the cloudy abyss that surrounds you.

At about 11:00 the rain started, and it didn't stop. It was really intense; I was wearing a poncho but everything I was wearing got soaked anyways. On top of this it was getting colder as we ascended, which wasn't so bad when we were climbing but really hit me when I stopped for lunch. The first time I asked my guide to clarify whether that was really our path was when we reached this big steep dirt hill that had a river running down it and was basically entirely mud. It was a challenge to keep my footing.

After living in Moshi, you hear so many people doing the climb that you start to think of it as just another tourist destination, but after lunch things got real really fast. We reached these rapids that were about a metre across and lead to a waterfall about 3 metres to my left. I said to my guide, "there has to be another way around this right?" He wasn't concerned and informed me that it was very easy. I just had to leap onto this slimy wet rock and then leap onto the other side. No problem. The next little obstacle was a waterfall that you basically had to hug while you stepped on a rock that had been entirely submerged under water. The water was so powerful I could feel it running through my shoes and hitting my feet. I was worried that the water pressure from the falls was going to push me off the rock and over the cliff.

We arrived at the next base camp at around 3pm, although it felt much later. This was the ugliest base camp by far. It was this open, flat, grey space covered in rocks and mud with almost no trees or greenery. The rain was still pounding so everything was flooded. When I got into my tent, I realized that even with my rain cover my clothes were slightly wetter than they were the day before and everything I was wearing that day was completely soaked. It was at that point that I realized that they would not dry. I was freezing, had nothing dry to put on, and we were only at the second base camp: it would get colder. I spent that night wondering how I was possibly going to climb this whole mountain without dying of hypothermia.

Day 3 (4572 M)

When the sun came up and it wasn't raining anymore, my energy was renewed and we continued up the mountain. Every minute after 11:00 that it didn't rain I took as a gift and cherished it.

The first part of the day was the desert zone with all different sized volcanic rocks. It spit rain for a little while, but ended up being a really good day. We climbed up to the lava rock at 14,900 ft., then had to climb back down to get to Barranco camp at 15,000 ft. There was a lot of climbing up at down in order to get used to the altitude. Altitude is the biggest obstacle to climbing (other than maybe the rain). I was the only one of the people I talked to that didn't feel any altitude sickness.

The way down from lava rock began by climbing down this big, steep, rocky waterfall. After that, we climbed down this slope covered in loose rocks that basically felt like surfing the slope. It wasn't really possible to stay in control; even my guide was falling. Then we followed a large creek that I think during dry season is an actual path. We jumped from one rock to another and tried not to fall in; I somehow managed to make it through the day without a soaker.

 

The waterfall rock hill that we descended after Lava Rock

As we approached the camp, the landscape changed and more trees started appearing. This camp was my absolute favourite. We were in a valley completely surrounded by mountains so it was beautiful as well as warm, since we were sheltered from the wind. Extending out and up the mountain was every possible shade from grey to green that you can possibly imagine. Everything had kind of a greyish tinge to it, but there were so many different colours it was unbelievable. Breaking up the mountain view were waterfalls interspersed around the cliffs. Surrounded by this beautiful scenery and feeling much drier, I went to bed feeling like I might actually be able to do this.

The view from my favourite Base Camp.

Day 4/5 (5895 M)

In the next 48 hours I climbed for a total of around 24 hours, on maybe 4 hours of sleep, with a breakfast of cookies that tasted like sugar and sawdust.

Day 4 began by scaling one of the cliffs surrounding Barranco camp, which felt like real rock climbing. They say never look down, but I say don't look up either. Look up at how far and steep you have to climb and you are bound to give up right there. Looking two steps ahead and taking it one thing at a time is the way to do it.

Descending from this cliff was my least favourite part of the day. I was wearing my trail runners to keep my hiking boots dry for summit day. This works well with the rain since although they get wet really easily, they also dry fast. However, the grips on them aren't really made for rock climbing. We reached a point in the climb that was just sloped rock with water running down it. It wasn't completely smooth, but there was absolutely nothing to grab onto. You just had to trust the grip on your shoes, which was a bit of a problem. I basically gripped for dear life with my hands onto the rock behind me and slowly slid down the slope.

After that descent, we climbed through the real desert area which contains large lava rocks and a layer of rocks that look and sound like flagstone, covering everything. There was one point where we reached the top of this cliff; surrounding us were large lava rocks covered in inukshuks and everything beyond was clouds. It looked like a really grey and rocky heaven.

We scaled another cliff to reach the camp the 7 dayers stay in, which we ate lunch at. After lunch we climbed up to Barafu camp for a total of about 8 hours of hiking. I was supposed to have about 6 hours to sleep before summiting, but dinner came late so I got 4 1/2. I might have slept one hour.

At midnight I woke up, had a snack of cookies and tea, and got ready to head for the summit. The next five hours of climbing passed in an absolute blur. When we got out, the moon was low in the sky and coloured a bright orange. Throughout the next few hours it rose like the sun and turned to a perfect white crescent. I have never seen so many stars in my life; there wasn't an empty spot in the sky. Looking out you could see the entire city of Moshi lit up below.

At 5:00am, we reached the top of the mountain at Stella Point (5739 M). The purpose in starting the climb so early is to reach the summit for sunrise, which is at about 6:00am. I really wanted to see the sunrise and you will freeze if you stand around and wait at the summit, so I went as slow as possible on the gradual slope to the summit. We reached the summit (5895 M) at 5:45am, just in time for the beginning of the sunrise. The sky was all lit up in a pinkish red as we watched the sun slowly rise from behind a distant mountain. In the light of day, the summit was a completely different place; it was amazingly beautiful. The glaciers next to us were my favourite part. They were surreal and looked like something from finding Nemo rather than something that could actually be seen in real life. This was one of so many times since I have come to Tanzania that I have just stared and tried to take a mental picture, since the pictures taken on my camera just seem stupid compared to the real thing.

 

After some time spent enjoying the view and taking some pictures, I was sufficiently cold and decided it was definitely time to get off the mountain. So I ran. When I got to the point where the dirt path ended and there was nothing but the usual thin layer of snowy ice, I sat down and slid. Being used to running marathons, this is the biggest difference between those and climbing mountains: the climax is at the end. When you complete a marathon, you are done and can relax. When you reach the top of a mountain, you are only halfway there. The walk down was definitely not as exhilerating as the way up, and was shockingly much harder than the climb.

It took 4 hours to get from the summit back down to Barafu base camp. After lunch and an hour of sleep, we were back on the trail down for another 6 hours of hiking to get to the level of the first base camp. This camp was beautiful since it was in the rainforest zone, and it was huge! I think I got a second wind at some point because I didn't feel tired when I got there, but after dinner I passed right out and slept for 12 hours.

Day 6

The next morning was a three hour hike back down to the main gate that I pretty much ran. I don't know if I was running to get to the bottom or just to the shower. After six days of hiking with no showers and not many clean clothes, a shower has never felt that good ever.

 

New Years, etc...

Moshi, Tanzania

On my way into Chapakazi for my last week of school, the dala dala pulled over to the side of the road so the driver could yell something at someone on the street. As he pulled in, he pulled up right behind this woman standing at the side of the street and facing the other way. She was located about a foot in at the front of the van and about 10 cm away. As the driver restarted the van, I looked at her and thought, "No. He wouldn't do that." He did. There was no honking, no attempt to back up, he just drove. She got hit a little and then jumped onto the side of the road. At no point in this scenario did the driver hesitate, although from my reaction, I am sure he must have noticed what happened. I let out a little scream at first and then began uncontrollably laughing. The woman was fine but seriously, did that actually happen?

When I arrived at the school, the blackboards were gone. The story I heard was that Daniel, the owner of the school, couldn't pay his bills so they took them. Someone brought in another piece of wood that we painted so it kind of works as a chalk board.

Near the end of December, some local friends of mine took me out to try the local brew. It was the consistency of baby vomit and, I would imagine, tastes pretty similar as well. It is made from ugali and bananas, but definitely does not taste like bananas. The bar patrons were pretty excited I was there. I don't think they get many tourists in there. I couldn't drink much, I think it would have made me really sick, but it was a unique experience.

I went to the hot springs for a second time just before new years. It was raining a bit on the way there (it is rainy season), but we were sleeping and it didn't seem like that much. However, when we headed out from the springs we encountered a slight problem. We were driving in a cab, which was just a small car. The roads to the hot springs are bad on dry days(at some points it is basically like driving on a pile of boulders with some dirt on them), but add in some rain and it becomes a lot worse. We reached the area that is probably the worst part of the drive already, and it was filled with water about knee deep. Without hesitation, our cab driver headed in with his tiny car, but got stuck on one of the particularly bad points where there is a small hill. Water started flooding into the car and it didn't seem like we were getting anywhere so we decided to get out to see if it would help. He eventually got though and somehow the car was ok after driving though water that almost went past the car windows, but now we had to get to the car. The other three managed to jump the rivers pretty easily, but for me and my friend Kristina it was another story. First she fell in while she was considering jumping over, then a guy tried to help us by showing us a better way across. This way was not better and he tried to help, but it somehow lead to me landing directly in the centre of the river. At the next crossing we had to jump onto a pointed rock to get across, which was clearly doomed to fail since my flip flops were already wet. By the time we got to the cab, one of my flip flops was broken, we were covered in water that given the location was likely filled with cow poop, and my khanga kept falling off so that I was wearing only bathing suit bottoms in this conservative little village. As we made our way back into the cab, some guy drove by on a piki piki and said in swahili, "welcome to Tanzania".

For New Years, I ended up staying in Moshi and we went to glaciers: the outdoor club that everyone goes to on Friday nights. There were a lot of children there, which I thought was slightly innappropriate considering it was a club where people were drinking, but that was before midnight. The tribe from the Moshi area is called Chagga, and the Chaggas have a special tradition on New Years of shooting guns into the air at midnight. This is now illegal, for obvious reasons, but it is a strong tradition so that doesn't entirely stop people. A few of them got some shots in before the police took them down. In addition, they had a fireworks display that was right inside the club. It was pretty cool being so close, but I soon discovered why they don't do that in Canada. Some of the fireworks were literally aimed directly into the crowd. At one point, I saw one land on the grass roof and it started smoking. Then, one went right down the shirt of one of the girls I was with. They managed to put it out, but not without a major burn scar and a big hole in her bra. After the fireworks, there was a concert and Barney and Mickey-Mouse-slash-spider-man showed up to dance. Welcome to Tanzania.