Reimagining Tanzania

I opened the visitor log book at the hostel to fill in the usual information. “Name, arrival date, arrival from, length of stay…” and then stifled an amused giggle as I stumbled across “tribe”. I toyed with a few ideas, ‘Tokugawa samurai’, ‘Maiko’ or even ‘muzungu’, the Swahili translation of ‘white person’, which also seemed to be the standard greeting for any non-blacks. However, my timid nature got the better of me and I begrudgingly wrote down the unexciting ‘N/A’.

This was in Tanzania, summer of 2009. It was my first experience in Africa and I was excited but nervous, my hand flying to my money belt from time to time, not knowing where to look, not knowing quite what to expect. Gazing beyond the window of my comfortable, air-conditioned bus, driving away from the airport and into the city, I was instantly sucked into the hubbub of African life.

What awaited me was not the poverty-stricken country with dirt tracks and the occasional odd bicycle that you find on the media. The massive road was swarming with activity and busy people everywhere. Bicycles were piled high with trays of eggs, pedalled with amazing skill by young boys whose feet scarcely brushed the ground. Trucks with rows and rows of glittering glass bottles of soft drinks were common; not once was a can or a paper carton to be seen. Mini-buses designed for a dozen passengers meticulously held close to 50, with men and women standing and sitting at all sorts of odd angles. It was human tetris within that bus, without a single space wasted.

“This is Africa,” my friend mumbled next to me as he rummaged for his camera to capture this Guinness Record-worthy feat. As one of the mini-buses drove past my window, it was possible for me to read the words “Young girls scouting squad” written in Japanese. Evidently, these were second-hand vehicles as part of an aid package from Japan (the one I had just seen most likely having belonged to the yakuza). Others had less bizarre writings such as “Tochigi nursery pick up service” or “St. John’s hospital ambulance” but it was still strange to see faces of smiling African adults poking out of what used to be a nursery bus.

As we continued to drive, I soon came to realize that football was extremely popular here. Or ‘football’, were it a sport consisting solely of the big four. Every vehicle we passed featured some sticker bearing Manchester, Liverpool, Chelsea or Arsenal. One fickle supporter even boasted all four, probably a hanging offense back at home.

After just under an hour of this insightful journey, we arrived in Dar es Salaam, the biggest city in Tanzania. Despite having lost its capital city status in 1974 to Dodoma, it is still a myriad of noise, chaos and people, all shouting that this was still the heart of the nation. Walking on roads which had no pavements meant almost losing an ear on several occasions to a mini-bus swerving dangerously close to my face whilst I ogled. Before long, my feet were thoroughly blackened from the dust and grime with a nice V-shaped imprint on both feet from my flip-flop.

Stalls selling phones, sandals, jewellery and other miscellaneous objects lined the side of the road, making the already difficult feat of walking whilst maneuvering to avoid sewage-like patches and rubbish considerably harder. Yet this street market style was contrasted by towering buildings with large windows and automatic sliding doors that let out a waft of much-welcomed cool air each time it opened. Inside were electronics stores, supermarkets stocked with imported Western teeth-rotting sweets, and cafes serving delicate pastries. The contrast was mind-blowing. One step through these glass doors and a pristine, eerily empty space awaited. One step in the other direction and I smacked into a wall of humid air and commotion which I could almost taste as I opened my mouth to gag for air. It was not difficult for me to decide which of the two I wanted to spend my day in and I bounced to join the haggling vendors and screeching buses.

The contrasts didn’t stop there. Men and women in formal business attire with pressed shirts and high heels wandered alongside Maasai men clad in their distinguished red ‘shuka’ and women in ‘kangas’ with Swahili proverbs written across bright African patterns. Just as the loud patterns of a thousand different colours on the kangas somehow worked together without clashing, the strong African tribal root was integrated seamlessly with Western influences. As if to demonstrate this, we saw a Maasai man talking on his mobile and another riding a bicycle.

Eventually, the stalls packed up with the waning heat of the day but the noise and commotion lasted long after the temperature had dropped.

After a cold shower at the hostel and a dinner of rice and limp looking vegetables, I was steered by the locals to a club, a 20 minute car ride away, famous for attracting a lot of expats.

There were seven of us, happy and slightly more outspoken than normal after a few bottles of Kunyagi, the Tanzanian vodka. We found a sedan parked outside the hostel and approached it, determined not be given the ‘muzungu’ price. After a fair number of minutes throwing, “but how will I feed my family?” and “please my brother,” at each other, the driver agreed to take all seven of us in his car for a third of his initial price. And so, we clambered into his car, the Tanzanian style like sardines in a tin with five in the back seat and two in the passenger seat. The car’s engine revved after the hundredth attempt as we sat holding our breath as if that would make us weigh less to relieve the car of some weight.

Not only were we not wearing seat belts but the driver was well beyond the speed limit and was completely ignoring stop lights as if they were mere Christmas decorations. As a nervous gasp escaped me from where I was sat on my friend’s lap at the front, the driver looked at me and laughed saying that in Tanzania, if there were no cars, then it was alright to drive ahead. (I have not been able to find anything to confirm this). So this being the norm, we sped through the city, driving around the frequent speed bumps so as not to lose speed, completely defeating their purpose. We were at the club in no time and the driver hastily pushed his number into my hand, making me promise to call him. His intentions weren’t ‘friendly’ as I initially suspected, but to secure himself a few Tanzanian shillings from us for the ride home, leaving me feeling, quite frankly, like a fool.

For Tsh.10,000 (£5) we entered the club and were given drinks vouchers worth the same amount to use inside. The venue was open-air with the bar under a thatched roof and a hut section that served as a shisha lounge. Soon, familiar tunes such as Neyo and Shakira reached my ears and as we sat on the bar stools, I noticed my guy friend receiving a ridiculous amount of attention. Now, it’s not that he usually has to work hard, but this was beyond normal. The reason? “They’re prostitutes,” my other friend whispered. So men, take heed of this. When you find yourself attracting a lot of attention from lovely ladies, before you flatter yourself, caution yourself that it may not be quite what it seems. By all means, if you need a confidence booster, then this is where you can get your fix, as Jack Sparrow said, “if every town in the world were like this one, no man would ever feel unwanted.”

The dance floor started to fill up gradually and soon there were women busting their moves. Different from the moves at home, they danced in an African style with lots of stamping and with alluring, sweeping hip movements that would make any woman jealous. And all this was in time to Western R’n’B which at home would mean drunken grinding. The change in scenery and the fusion was amazing and the rest of the night passed quickly.

By the time we left the club it was pitch black with only the half working headlights of the car to rely on. Surrounded by darkness, the sky was brilliantly lit with stars and whilst the vastness with nothing to block the view made the Milky Way look grander and all the further away, at the same time, the clarity of the sky brought the celestial artwork closer.

A city thriving with activity, Dar es Salaam really is a unique place with an integration of tradition and modernity, embracing their ethnic origins whilst welcoming new influences.