Sometimes it helps to set a scene when writing about one's travels many years in the past. In 1993, my life was in a state of flux, not sure where or why I was doing somethings in life. My wife and I had two children in university. I had been recently laid off from my job coaching a track team at Wittenberg University a small college in Springfield, Ohio. That lay off wasn't necessarily due to my incompetence, but more due to a declining enrollment at the university necessitating cutbacks in minor sports programs. My two assistants who were also assistant football coaches were retained, but I was let go. I also had a part time career repairing houses and doing odd jobs, while my wife was the prime earner for our family serving as a hospital chaplain. Having lost my job at the college just before our son started his college career enabled him to qualify for a Pell Grant (based on a low family income) that would cover much of his expenses at the University of Chicago. Our daughter was already attending a university in Montreal and Canadian costs of education were historically much more manageable than going to a school in the US. So with that economic situation facing me, I decided to take a trip to Africa. Was I stupid, selfish, crazy? Yes to all of the above. It would not be a luxury trip with guides, a safari through the Serengeti, or a climb up Mt. Kilimanjaro like the travel agencies provide. But I did have experience in this part of Africa as a former Peace Corps Volunteer and later as a teacher with a Canadian program in Zimbabwe. This would be a bare bones trip to out of the way places from the East Coast of Tanzania into its heartland, and across the country (750 miles or 1250 Km) to the shores of Lake Tanganyika where Livingstone met Stanley on November 10, 1871. From there I would head on down to our former job site in Zimbabwe and then fly home. Along the way I hoped to pick up artwork that could be sold at a profit back in the US. Public transport would be the way of getting from place to place. The part of the trip described below is via a railway built by the Germans in the 19th century to the interior of Africa when that part of the world was called German East Africa. That railway on its old roadbed was still running in 1993 with seventy-five year old cars and engines, wobbly bridges, and a decaying infrastructure supporting the rails along the way. It was an every person for themself milieu. That is not my recommendation for the inexperienced traveller, but you will certainly learn about yourself and maybe pick up a few tips on survival along the way. When this story takes place, I had already been in East Africa travelling up and down the coast, meeting artists and witch doctors and collecting artifacts that might have some resale value back home. Note that along this railway there are no game parks or tourist attractions until you get to Kigoma and then it is a few miles north toward the Burundi border where Jane Goodall did her research and lived with the chimpanzees for forty years.
On the northeast corner of Tanzania lie Burundi and Rwanda
During this time an event of serious consequence occurred in Burundi where the president Melchior Ndadaye was was assassinated on October 21 by a group of army officers of the Tutsi tribe during an attempted coup d'etat. The president was a member of the Tutsi's rival the Hutu. This led to a mass exodus of Hutu directly south to Kigoma which was not far from the Burundi Tanzania border. An estimated 50,000 to 100,000 people were killed in the month after that event. Civil war would drag on for another ten years. This was a small event compared to the Rwandan genocide that happened the next year taking the lives of 800,000 to one million in less than three months.
Travel
Journal: Tanzania Railway Journey Dar es Salaam to Kigoma on . shores of Lake
Tanganyika
Oct 27, 1993 4:39 pm Dar Es Salaam Railway Station
I left the Canadian Organization for
Development Through Education (CODE) house at 3:15PM getting a ride from the truck
taking people home. They drop me at the station, but I need to buy water for the
trip, so I walk several blocks back toward the docks. I find out my bags are much
too heavy to go far. I’m sweating profusely after a block. A guy offers me a
lift back for 500 Tsh (26 cents Canadian) which I gladly accept. No one checks
my ticket as I go onto the platform, so there is no way of telling how many of the masses
here are boarding the train. I walk down to watch the workers assembling the cars together.
They work in “good” clothes not overalls or any kind of uniform. They are clean
but a lot of hard work is being done by hand—helping the switch engine!
Urine & diesel fumes permeate the
atmosphere. A roundhouse turntable is manipulated by hand—well balanced as it
had the switch engine and the pullman balanced on it. Third class cars are already on line
and filling—Reporting hour is 4:00 pm. No one predicts departure time. They are
making up the 2nd and 1st class parts of the train last. At Tabora (midway) the train
will be split. Some going north to Mwanza on Lake Victoria, some on to Kigoma on Lake Tanganyika, and maybe some
will just stay in Tabora for the return.
I see my name on the manifest, so theoretically
all is well but after mistaking my bus last week in Kilwa Masoko I’ll have to
be careful. It’s now 5:00 pm and my wagon #2211 hasn't made an appearance. Must
still be in the sheds.
Ethnically only a few people are distinguishable to
me. The big tribes like Wanyamwezis and Wasukumas I cannot recognize. A family of
Somalis is nearby—the women more attractive than most. Dressed in complete
matching costumes rather than a kanga over regular clothes. Their heads are
covered. More roundish faces than I recall from the past. Men tall and lean.
One woman enormously fat for an African woman. —A sign of wealth.
Now they are starting to bring the 2nd & 1st
class coaches on line. Not much control of the crowd but there was an
announcement warning people to be careful while shunting was going on. No one
getting squashed that I can tell! Cars marked for Mwanza—some even marked for
special groups—“African Inland Mission” chalked on side.
My bags are not the biggest by any means. A
lot of people do business this way, carrying goods across country to sell.
Zambians come up the Tazara Railway to do this. The Tazara is a more modern
line built by the Chinese in the 1960’s.
An Arab in Zanzibar told me he was going out to Kigoma and then to
Burundi to sell some sugar. A family of Arabs in turbans just passed by. A guy
with two elevated unicycles stands waiting to board. Cars are incredibly dirty
on the outside from diesel exhaust. The broken windows have been boarded up. I
see my car. Get on the wrong end and have to wait for a family packing 9-10
people onto the car to say goodbye to one traveller. The fat Somali lady is not
in my room. I’m in with 5 other men. It’s going to be a ripe 2 ½ days and in
Kigoma there will be a refugee situation due to the unrest in nearby Burundi.
I seem to have the most bags of any of my
fellow travellers. One guy, Saidi, has a box of young chickens, 50 of
them—going somewhere between Dodoma & Tabora—Itigi.
Oct 28 Slept well on train from 9
pm to 1:15—At Morogoro I thought the sun was coming up but it was only the
station lights. My travelling mates are kind—Saidi is bringing the day-old
chicks out to Itigi. He is a med tech, but like everyone is trying to supplement
his income. Another
young man, whose name is not yet known, is employed in the regional government
administration in Tabora. His
wife and child are in a neighboring compartment. I don’t think they mix the
sexes on the train here. The third gentleman doesn’t speak English but is
friendly. At one time during the evening I tried to go forward to the
restaurant car (unfortunately I went the wrong way) but things came to a halt
as a conservative Muslim sect occupying several compartments was praying in the
aisle. The train is not in excellent shape but it runs well. I’m sure that
spares are at a premium. I get a good breakfast in the dining car for Tsh 500
and when the train pulls into Dodoma at 8:15 am there are food vendors and
hawkers all over the place. We have tea and traveller number 3 shares his
chapati’s. I’m glad I came this way. The countryside is ruggedly beautiful—reminiscent
of New Mexico - Arizona. But they do have a season of rain that enables more
people to live here. Right now it is the end of the dry season. Rains were just
beginning in Dar and Zanzibar. They’ve not started here yet!
In the sleepers it is hot when the train
stops. All windows and doors remain open. There is enough breeze inside when we
move but I haven’t experienced the heat of the day yet.
Saidi (above)
It’s now mid day—We stopped at 11:30 in
Saranda—people lined both sides of the tracks selling food. I distinctly remember one seller with a tray full of ndege 'birds, birds' he was yelling. There were at least fifty roast birds on his tray. They were the size of sparrows. My food back up was a stash of ramen noodles sacs I'd brought with me from home. I could eat them raw, uncooked and keep going for days in an emergency. I couldn't get into eating sparrows. Travellers refer to
this place as the Kilimanjaro Hotel or Sheraton—lots of kabobs, wali na nyama, (rice
and goat meat) sodas... each day permitting these people to earn a living. My
travelling mate the administrator in Tabora tells me that most other regions
are more desirable to be stationed in as the local economies are stronger and that permited setting up a business on the side to supplement one's income.
Eyes closed one can feel the heat and dry here—the rains have not yet
arrived. But fields seem to be prepared for planting. Cattle crowd around the
base of a tree for shade.
I filled up on goat kabobs at Saranda but realized
there were two samosas left and ate them before they spoiled.
We expect to arrive in Tabora (half way) around 7-8 pm.
The train will be divided with part going north to Mwanza and the other half on
west to Kigoma arriving sometime the next morning perhaps.
4:00 pm. I’ve watched the countryside change
very little for the last 4 hours. We’ve covered perhaps 150 miles. The train
stops regularly to let passengers off. At each little village there are people,
mainly children, selling a few snacks. The most common thing for sale however
is an Ugali spoon that travelers buy for gifts when they return. One lady had
bought about twenty of them. I think of giving some kid money for nothing but
decide against giving them false hopes or thinking that every white face is going
to do that. Through Wagogoland another common item is a black stone to put on a snake
bite. The sellers have them wrapped in long strips of plastic. They can rip
them off as they sell them. Saidi tells me that you lay it onto the bite where
it is bleeding and it will draw the venom out through the blood. After use, you
should not scrape the stone but soak it in milk to let it clean itself. I
bought 5 of them for 400 Tsh. The Wagogo resemble the Masai, but their colors are more black than the red the Masai wear.
Saidi leaves us at Itigi. I photograph him and
promise to send him a picture. I learn that my other roommate is a conductor on
a dallah dallah (minibus) in Dar es Salaam. He’s going to visit his family in Tabora.
Saidi was explaining an article in Swahili in a local paper using the new
vernacular discussing the boys who work on the buses as having certain
characteristics such as: a) Lying – telling customers there is plenty of room
to lie down and sleep in the bus. b) Pride because they control the driver
telling him when it is OK to take off by hitting twice on the metal roof of the
bus as a signal—“Piga debe” hit the can.
8:30 PM — We’ve been in Tabora about 90
minutes. Cars have been shunted around and I think I’m in the right place
headed for Kigoma — Some tracks are being replaced in the station only seven
guys needed to move a spare rail about 150 yards. They slide it along the
tracks at a 90° angle. All my companions are gone and only one new one comes
in.
(middle) MV Liemba in Kigoma harbor
boats for hire in Kigoma
He’s
pretty ripe. Reminds me of teaching at BMC (Bernard Mizeki College) in Zimbabwe
where the classrooms could get pretty strong smelling in the dry season when
water to wash clothes and bodies was scarce. We start to move at 8:36 pm. VOA (Voice of America) reports 500,000 refugees have fled Burundi. It’s doubtful they’ve all come to
Kigoma. I was warned not to leave sight of my bags while the train was in
Tabora – a “town of thieves.” Anyway I stayed in the cabin. I’ll fix the bed
soon and turn in. I’m sure I’m pretty ripe too. As we leave the Tabora station
in the dark, I see what looks like a locomotive graveyard. Spare parts have
probably been cannibalized for many years.
7:00 am. People came and went in the
compartment during the night. I kept an eye open much of the time especially
when the train stopped to see if anyone was fooling with my bags. Apparently
the tactic can be to pitch the bag through a window to a partner and then run.
By 5:30 when I decided to get up there was no one left in the compartment only
voices of constant chatter of people standing in the aisle looking out the
windows. I spent hours myself doing this yesterday.
We just stopped briefly at a place called
“Kandaga Halt” which does not appear on my map. The conductor came by to
collect my ticket and estimated our arrival at 8:30 am. I’m looking forward to
a good wash in a hotel then finding out how soon the MV Liemba (a passenger ship and freighter, a remnant of WWI ) will be
departing southward. The Burundi unrest may have cancelled that northern part
of the circuit but will they take the time off and stay in Kigoma or go south a
few days early, that is the question. Will I have time to go up to Gombe Stream to see the chimps, or will I miss that part of the trip. Already I’ve scrapped the idea of going
to Bukavu because of all the unrest. Perhaps I can go in at Lubumbashi just
have to wait and see. The countryside is green and hilly after such a boring
landscape all day from Dodoma to Tabora.
This part of the railway must have posed some
interesting challenges to its builders the Germans a hundred years ago.
According to my map, if it can be trusted, we will be approaching Kigoma from
the south at the end of our run so I’ll have a view of Lake Tanganyika from my
compartment.
In Kigoma will there be some opportunity to
work with a refugee organization? Should I give up my antibiotics and other
prescription drugs? I certainly need to lighten my load a bit.
Another stop alongside wrecked tank cars.
Builder was Charles Roberts Co. Wakefield England 1955. A butterfly of
magnificent beauty flies among the tankers. I remember this orange, red, and
black creature as one I tried and failed to catch in Loitokitok, Kenya almost thirty
years ago now meandering between huge cars of rusting steel. Fragility, beauty,
decay, mossiness, a crumbling sort of measurable impermanence but that which
will still be here in some form after I have departed the planet.
Some serious construction or maintenance along
the line. A Caterpillar 926 E payloader. Every 10 miles or less there is a
little cluster of mabati tin huts
for maintenance crews. Their families live there as well. Some have small
shambas, gardens. Some though are in such isolated uninhabitable areas that they must
occasionally be resupplied by the railway.
A worker comes in to collect blankets, sheets
and pillows. Says there are a lot of Burundians in Kigoma but doesn’t think
hotels will be a problem. Refugees are being kept in the stadium and in camps.
They are not supposed to be on the streets and Tanzanians are not to assist
them. The agencies are responsible for care. This probably is to keep people
from disappearing into the society illegally.
Oct 31 – Need to recount about 3 days here. I arrived
at Kigoma—a beautiful lake port at 8:00 am Friday. A huge old German railway
station here. I relied on a Lonely Planet guide book and took a taxi for the brief ride to the Kigoma Hotel—Saw that some French Canadians were registered—one was Daniel
Lacoste who had lived in Temiscaming Sud about 2 years before we had
arrived to teach in that small town on the Quebec/Ontario border in 1978—lots of relatives there. He is the age group of the sec. 4 and 5’s that
we taught. The other, Sylvain Martel is from the Ottawa Region. They are organizing
to go to Gombe Stream to see the chimps, so the 3 of us and Dave a Canadian/Czech from Westmount
and 4 crazy Kiwis Jacqui, Catman, Wade and Norm hire a boat to take us up to
the park. I kept my room at the hotel to leave most of my gear. The boat south
doesn’t leave til Wed. I arrived on a Friday.
We were fortunate to see the chimps up close
in the morning only a 15 minute walk from the lodge. Some visitors are not so
lucky. Did lots of filming and had a
great time with the Kiwis—They swear like no one I’ve heard before. Wade stayed
with me at the hotel when we got back—good bloke—plumber by trade—works in
Austria at ski shops in winter—London at times, now on his way to Capetown to
see his girlfriend. Catman works the offshore oil rigs in S.E. Asia—comes to Europe
for the summer and does the circuit from Pamplona to Munich Oktoberfest. Jackie
and Norm—a quiet couple who put up with everyone’s kidding.
The chimps were as amazing to us as I’m sure they are to all tourists—Families—mothers with small children. They woke up about 6 am. We heard their chatter in the forest and a ranger led us to them. We sat on a trail—one was on the trail about 30 meters in front of us. Soon another was on the trail behind us and walked right through our group. The guide told us to squat down and keep lower than the chimps and there would be no problem. Soon others joined and went to a palm tree as we followed them. They climbed up into the tree and ate small nuts. Soon there were about 6 in the area. They can move very quietly when they choose. They moved on to another type of tree to change diet. The babies were left to climb around on their own in a tree but when trees were changed mom’s carried the babies. —The mom’s could sit balanced on a limb not using their toes to grasp. They just put weight forward of their heels. They were pretty much in charge of us. They are very powerful. The 3 Canadians went back again in the afternoon and saw a male grab a small bush pig—kill it in its jaws and literally run across the tops of several large trees til it stopped to eat the pig, high legs dangling out of the chimp’s mouth and blood running down its chin.
By 4:30 pm we’re headed back after a swim in
the lake. The water temp was ideal and not cold at lower depths. Rains started
that morning but let up for us. Today Sunday the 31st a longer rain hit
Kigoma—most of the morning from 4 am to 10 am it came down steadily.
The MV Liemba is under repair so the MV
Magorozo sails south all the way to Zambia these days.
Oct 31- Today with the rain, we sit and write though it is clearing now as I write. The Wazungu (white) tourists have decided to make a curry dinner tonight. We've been served a lot of rice and beans, nothing else. I know there is other food in the market, so some of the travellers are out shopping—some will clean or cut—I’ll do the sauce. The hotel kitchen will provide rice. There is a pleasant group of people here—about 15 to 20—many have seen each other several times in different places. Several German med students who came out for a few months of volunteer work. Lots of Kiwis—The Canadians—An American woman semi-retired who worked for P&G in Cincinnati and in South America, a Danish woman who was working in Rwanda.
Curry dinner went smoothly – Sylvain and Daniel did the shopping. 4kg of good beef. Daniel didn't let them throw any bones in. Lots of potatoes and onions and curry – even a vegetarian curry for some who wanted that. Cooked on two small petrol burners that the trekkers provided. Cut up everything [with] pocket knives. First cleaned the work table with Dettol. Tried to coerce some of the women to do the cooking but they adamantly declined. Everyone had been saying how tired they were of rice + beans or beans and rice. Got huge compliments for the work. Started preparing at 2:30 and served at 5:00. It was fun. But I think people would have liked anything including a baboon or a zebra.
Evening we walked over to Railway Hotel well situated on the lake looking much like Kariba. Had my first Primus beer from Zaire. Quite good. — Four beers and a bit of a buzz. Kiwis in form. Interesting concept of work six months and travel. Some stay longer. One had bought a van last year with 8 others and went to Pamplona first of July then around Europe finishing off at Oktoberfest in Munich late September.
On the way to Gombe Stream, two crazy Kiwis, Daniel, Dave, Sylvain
Lake Tanganyika shore, two chimps in tree perch
Found out from Scott an Aussie that his reservations on boat were downgraded to 2nd class so I better go over and check. Everything was in order. Ticket was Tsh 7200 about $15 for 3 days on the boat 1st class. MV Liemba is under repair so we will be travelling on the MV Mwongozo a bit less historic. The MV Liemba was carried out piece by piece from the coast by the Germans before WWI and assembled probably at Kigoma. During the war, the Liemba then known as the Graf von Goetzen was cornered by a British craft that had been transported to the lake overland from South Africa. To avoid capture it was scuttled by the Germans. The British razed it after the war and refitted it and it is still carrying goods and passengers on Lake Tanganyika all these years.
Tomorrow I’ll try to go to Ujiji to see where
Stanley found Livingstone back in 1877. —It’s a few miles south of Kigoma.
Nov 1. Went to Ujiji by bus in a
light rain at noon and it did not stop for 3 1/2 hours. We got drenched and we
failed to see the place where Stanley supposedly found Livingstone. Stood under
cover in the market. Thought the fish might be washed down the hill. Incredible
amounts of water overflowing the open sewers in the village. Met a Rwandese
speaking good French—He heard me speaking French with Daniel & Sylvain. He
will try to locate an mganga (witch doctor) with Kibuyu to sell if I return tomorrow. Need to
mail some letters, perhaps to write some as well. Some of the 15 who were here
yesterday left for Gombe Stream at 3. It just stopped raining for them.
After notes:
My decision not to go up to Burundi is probably wise. The president had been murdered, October 21, by the army a week before the train trip had started, Lots of killing going on during a ten year civil war that started with that event. I'm unable to convey this information to Marie back home. Knowing of the unrest, she will ask an African priest friend back home about the situation. He confides to her, that if I went up there, I'm probably dead. She carries that counsel in her head for several weeks until getting a letter from me that I had decided not to go to Burundi. Instead I headed south to Zimbabwe. I will recount some of that trip in a later story.
Less than a year later the Rwandan genocide would kick off in April, 1994 when the new Burundian president and the president of Rwanda were both killed when their plane was shot down coming into the Rwandan capital of Kigali. That event touched off the killing of 800,000 people in a three month period. Not a great time to be travelling over there. I would start travelling to those countries again in 2007 to train community mediators in both countries as well as the Congo.
MV Liemba formerley the Graf Von Goetzen
No comments:
Post a Comment