Monday, 9 November 2009
Exploring Stone Town
We arrived at Zanzibar loaded down with our rucksacks and with our passports to hand. Since the coup in the 1970s (I need to double check this date!), Zanzibar has been held under the jurisdiction of Tanzania and ever since then Zanzibar has been striving for its independence. To prove a point, your passport must be duly stamped both when you arrive and leave the island.
It was seriously humid. Our shirts were wet through and we had a bit of a walk ahead of us. Ravi led us into Stone Town, a map in hand, his American tour leader impression kicking in. We had a 10-15 minute walk to get to a hostel which had been recommended to us. The walk was an obstacle course of tout dodging. Touts here (like in India) will follow you to your destination and then either ask you for money for being a ‘guide’ or will ask the hotel for commission for bringing you there. At one point we had about six touts tailing us – some pretending to walk casually on the other side of the road so as suggest that they weren’t really touting
We announced very loudly that we wouldn’t be paying for guides and as soon as we arrived at the hostel we told the guy at reception not to give commission (that’s because it inevitably comes out of your pocket because they raise the cost of the room to compensate for the commission paid out).
St Monica’s was a hostel that was built by the church. It was located in the centre of Stone Town where the second largest slave market in Zanzibar used to stand. 14 of us arrived and the man at the reception managed to find us rooms at pretty decent rates. I shared a triple room that boasted three double beds, mosquito nets and a fan – utter luxury after living in a tent for nearly four weeks.
That afternoon we headed out to find food and ate local at a restaurant recommended by Nat’s friend Nick who’d met up with us. The restaurant had six or seven large tables which we shared with locals. The food was excellent and very cheap: Nat and I had the best octopus we’d ever tasted here.
We shared our table with a local couple and the woman wore a burka. It was fascinating as it had never occurred to me that a woman wearing a burka would have to show her face when eating. It would seem obvious that she had to lift the veil that covered her face in order to eat but it was not something I’d ever really thought about. She was a very pretty woman but she didn’t smile and she avoided eye contact with the rest of us.
Stone Town is captivating. The myriad of narrow streets transforms the town into a veritable rabbit warren that you can wander about in just getting totally lost and soaking up the stunning surroundings: beautifully carved doorways, the elegant white wash of classic Arabic architecture, the golden domes of mosques. Every now and then, you stand aside as a bicycle, squeaking its brakes to denote its presence, brushes by you with one or more people on it. Reach the sea and you can watch traditional Arab dhows sail by and local fishermen land their catches whilst young boys in the sea use sticks to hit crabs that have drifted ashore following a change in the trade winds.
That evening we watched the sun set from a typically mzungo bar called Livingstones which was located on the beach. As the sun began its descent, transforming the sky into blazing red and orange, a young lad silhouetted against the sky energetically back flipped as his friends cheered him on. Along the beach cashew nut sellers were out in force, local couples sat on the sands or on the sea wall absorbed by the sun’s final moments, the fishermen continued their work.
Behind the sea wall the stall holders of the night market were busy enticing customers to take a look at their wares. We finished our drinks and made our way there to take a look. Seafood filled the stalls: lobster, crab, kebab sticks of barracuda, octopus, scallops and oysters could be cooked up on one of the many oil drum bbqs and served with chapatti or naan bread. Sugar cane juice sellers crushed sugar cane with lime and ginger to create a refreshing drink and at the pizza stalls you could opt for little parcels of dough fried up with a filling of tomato, meat and cheese and which didn’t really resemble pizza at all. We all got stuck into food and all kept our fingers crossed that we didn’t get ill as a result.
After a fill at the market, Nick, Nat, Jon, a couple of American girls Nick and Nat had met and I went to a local bar called the Prince’s Garden for a beer. It took us an age to find as we tried to navigate through the streets of Stone Town but we got there in the end. It was a sedate affair (it was a Sunday night I guess) so a beer later and we were back at St Monica’s. It wasn’t late but bed was on the cards as we knew we’d have an early 5am wake-up call with the muslim call to prayer emanating from the many mosques that surrounded our hostel.
Mikadi beach camp
At the entrance of the camp are Masai guards – employed to protect guests because the locals don’t mess with them. Inside, there are warning signs: ‘inside camp = safe; outside camp = not safe’.
The camp itself is located on the sea edge with white sands and warm sea but we are restricted to the camp beach; step beyond the masai guards at either end of the beach and there’s a high chance that you will be mugged. ‘Beach boys’ as they are known are basically thugs that prowl beaches looking for vulnerable tourists to mug. The result is a weird kind of apartheid with whites segregated to one section of the beach and locals to another section.
Next to Mikadi a massive party was underway (it was a Saturday, it was Hallowe’en and it was almost a full moon) with a local DJ banging out some tunes and trying his hand (nearly always unsuccessfully) at mixing. The beach was flooded with locals and it looked like they were having an amazing time. It would have been great to have joined them but we were told we weren’t to leave camp unless we were escorted by a masai.
On the beach a few kids were allowed into the area in front of camp and the boys started throwing a small rugby ball around with them and we got chatting to a couple of little girls who were swimming but unfortunately this was the sum total of the contact we had with people outside of camp. It was a very strange and very sad situation brought about by a few unsavoury thugs trying to make a quick buck.
Driving to Dar
We had a two day drive to get to Dar Es Salem – the capital city of Tanzania. The drive itself took us through the bustling town of Arusha, by the cloud covered peak of Kilimanjaro and the small town of Moshi, and onwards through the foothills of the Usambara Mountain range. Behind us were the wide dry plains of Northern Tanzania that had yet to receive rains, but as we travelled south the countryside became greener and the atmosphere more humid. Whilst the rains had been late, at least they had arrived here. The ground was redder, thin shoots of green had begun to sprout and dark clouds brewed with the promise of more rain.
On the outskirts of Dar, the countryside changed again. In amongst the banana plantations, fields and gardens, a peppering of gaudy mansions and large estates – the evidence of those who’d been successful in life. The road continued into town and the mansions were abruptly replaced by the typical corrugated roofs and condensed housing of the shanty towns that lie on the outskirts of the city. A small stream filled with rubbish, debris and sewage ran by the small ramshackle huts where children played and out of work adults sat.
The Dala Dalas (small minibuses crammed with people) are king here. Like ants, they’re everywhere, their horns blaring, people yelling, men clinging on from any available hand hold. The roads are at a standstill, it’s sweltering hot, there’s dust everywhere. It can take anything from an hour to eight hours to get through the clogged arteries of the city to the harbor area. Here, mingled with the smell of sweat and fumes, is the powerful scent of fish…and 2pm fish at that! After the heat of the morning, the fish market can knock you for six as you drive past.
We drive onto a large ferry that crosses to the small stretch of sea to the top of the Kigamboni peninsula, we arrive at the Markadi beach camp and here we are imprisoned.
The Kituo Chaelimu education centre
Behind the health clinic is the Kituo Chaelimu education centre. Built out of circular, red concrete huts that mimic a masai village, the education consists of various classrooms, a large computer room and a library. We were shown around by the nursery teacher and the children treated us to a rendition of Lion King’s A Kuna Matata.
I found out that the centre was built by Nottingham University – my undergrad uni – so it was of special interest to me. The children arrive from miles around to learn and are give porridge for breakfast as many of them don’t get breakfast at home. The classroom we saw was well kitted out with the children’s work displayed across the walls.
The library has an extensive array of books that have been donated from around the world. Among them were copies of the Avantage series of French text books, encyclopaedias, GCSE text books and a host of donated fiction books.
In the computer room a class was in full swing. Again, all the computers had been donated. The classroom had around 30 computers all set up in rows behind which students were busy typing away.
It was touching to see such a fantastic set up and when I asked the nursery teacher whether they needed or wanted people who could teach English she nodded enthusiastically and said they always need people who can teach English.
The centre really touched my heart and got me thinking that I might come back next year for a few weeks to teach, bringing with me some supplies for both the medical and educational centre…but I guess I’ll just have to see where the world takes me between now and then!
If you’re interested in finding out more about the centre the contact details are as follows:
Kituo Chaelimu, Meserani, P.O. Box 15707, Arusha, Tanzania
thecentre@meserani.com
www.meserani.com
I found out that the centre was built by Nottingham University – my undergrad uni – so it was of special interest to me. The children arrive from miles around to learn and are give porridge for breakfast as many of them don’t get breakfast at home. The classroom we saw was well kitted out with the children’s work displayed across the walls.
The library has an extensive array of books that have been donated from around the world. Among them were copies of the Avantage series of French text books, encyclopaedias, GCSE text books and a host of donated fiction books.
In the computer room a class was in full swing. Again, all the computers had been donated. The classroom had around 30 computers all set up in rows behind which students were busy typing away.
It was touching to see such a fantastic set up and when I asked the nursery teacher whether they needed or wanted people who could teach English she nodded enthusiastically and said they always need people who can teach English.
The centre really touched my heart and got me thinking that I might come back next year for a few weeks to teach, bringing with me some supplies for both the medical and educational centre…but I guess I’ll just have to see where the world takes me between now and then!
If you’re interested in finding out more about the centre the contact details are as follows:
Kituo Chaelimu, Meserani, P.O. Box 15707, Arusha, Tanzania
thecentre@meserani.com
www.meserani.com
Monday, 2 November 2009
A snake park and a health clinic
The snake park where we’re staying is run by Ma, BJ and their son who’s in his forties. They moved up from South Africa 30 years ago and set up the campsite at Snake Park. Enter the bar and you can emerse yourself in 30 years of history. The walls, ceiling and bar is covered in photos, t-shirts and graffiti left behind by people passing through as they travelled Africa. The Snake Park is not just a campsite but an actual snake park with a resident collection of snakes, crocs and birds from Africa. The collection covers everything from puff adders to black mambas and small non-poisonous beaked snakes.
Whist it looks like it could just be a personal zoo, the Snake Park serves a much more important purpose. Ma and BJ have immersed themselves in their local Tanzanian community, setting up the only free health clinic in 150km. The clinic is paid for by BJ and any donations given to them as well as a cut off the takings from the bar and campsite. It specializes in snake bite but also treats everything from chest infections and eye problems to malarial screening and emergency first aid.
With one of the local masai guards (employed because the local populace don’t mess with them…a poison arrow can kill in less than 20 minutes) we pay a visit to the local clinic where we meet one of the two nurses employed there. The clinic is not much larger than a house with a small diagnosis room, a microscope room used to diagnose malaria, and mini ward with a couple of beds and a desk in the entrance with a computer where they upload records. There is also a resident doctor. Together this miniscule medical treat upwards of 70 people a day on market days (mon, tues) and 20-30 patients a day on other days. All the treatment and medication is free, with just an option for a donation if one can afford one.
Jane (the nurse) told us the story of one young lad who was bitten by a black mamba which comes with an 80% chance of death. After 9 doses of anti-venom, a course of antibiotics and some anti-inflammatory drugs the boy’s life was saved. Such a poignant story goes to show this impact of this small and yet valuable health clinic on the local population.
Whist it looks like it could just be a personal zoo, the Snake Park serves a much more important purpose. Ma and BJ have immersed themselves in their local Tanzanian community, setting up the only free health clinic in 150km. The clinic is paid for by BJ and any donations given to them as well as a cut off the takings from the bar and campsite. It specializes in snake bite but also treats everything from chest infections and eye problems to malarial screening and emergency first aid.
With one of the local masai guards (employed because the local populace don’t mess with them…a poison arrow can kill in less than 20 minutes) we pay a visit to the local clinic where we meet one of the two nurses employed there. The clinic is not much larger than a house with a small diagnosis room, a microscope room used to diagnose malaria, and mini ward with a couple of beds and a desk in the entrance with a computer where they upload records. There is also a resident doctor. Together this miniscule medical treat upwards of 70 people a day on market days (mon, tues) and 20-30 patients a day on other days. All the treatment and medication is free, with just an option for a donation if one can afford one.
Jane (the nurse) told us the story of one young lad who was bitten by a black mamba which comes with an 80% chance of death. After 9 doses of anti-venom, a course of antibiotics and some anti-inflammatory drugs the boy’s life was saved. Such a poignant story goes to show this impact of this small and yet valuable health clinic on the local population.
Ngorongoro Crater
It’s cold and damp when we wake. Cloud clings to the crater rim, dampening the ground and our fly sheets. Again, we set off at 6.30am for our morning game drive and our steep descent into the crater. We inch our way along the vertiginous road that leads down to the crater floor. Once on the crater floor, our game drive begins.
As we drive a pride of lions suddenly emerge from the bush. They are young lionesses with cubs of different ages. One cub looks quite young, his feet too large for his body, another has started to grow a mane. They emerge from the undergrowth, blissfully unaware of the 4x4s filling with tourists and impossibly large zoom lenses.
They walk up to the cars and trucks, brushing against them as they make their way to their new resting place. The cubs jostle and scrap, a lioness clambers into a tree before dismounting again, another cub playfully gives chase to an unsuspecting guinea fowl. They make their way shamelessly along the vehicle track and there is nothing that can be done but to watch, enjoy and give way to these stunning creatures.
Later, we approach a soda lake where a lion sunbathes gracelessly on its back, in the water hippos sit and do very little, the odd white egret stood on their backs clearing parasites.
As we leave another lake we see a couple of hippos running, their large backsides waddling as they go. We pass an elephant graveyard – an area of tender grasses that elephants come to spend their days when their six sets of teeth are completely worn down. Elephant skulls lie about the place, the ivory tusks already collected and stored by the rangers to prevent poaching and trading.
Our final sight as we made our way to the road that leaves the crater is a lame, matted hyena hobbling along by the side of the road. It accidently stumbles into the path of a large male ostrich which takes offence and gives chase. The hyena limps pathetically away, lying down out of kicking distance of the ostrich. Senguru, our guide , sighs and says ‘nature will have her way’. From young cubs, elephants and hartebeest to dead zebras and dying hyenas, we got to see the entire circle of life played out before our eyes over two magnificent days in the Serengeti.
As we drive a pride of lions suddenly emerge from the bush. They are young lionesses with cubs of different ages. One cub looks quite young, his feet too large for his body, another has started to grow a mane. They emerge from the undergrowth, blissfully unaware of the 4x4s filling with tourists and impossibly large zoom lenses.
They walk up to the cars and trucks, brushing against them as they make their way to their new resting place. The cubs jostle and scrap, a lioness clambers into a tree before dismounting again, another cub playfully gives chase to an unsuspecting guinea fowl. They make their way shamelessly along the vehicle track and there is nothing that can be done but to watch, enjoy and give way to these stunning creatures.
Later, we approach a soda lake where a lion sunbathes gracelessly on its back, in the water hippos sit and do very little, the odd white egret stood on their backs clearing parasites.
As we leave another lake we see a couple of hippos running, their large backsides waddling as they go. We pass an elephant graveyard – an area of tender grasses that elephants come to spend their days when their six sets of teeth are completely worn down. Elephant skulls lie about the place, the ivory tusks already collected and stored by the rangers to prevent poaching and trading.
Our final sight as we made our way to the road that leaves the crater is a lame, matted hyena hobbling along by the side of the road. It accidently stumbles into the path of a large male ostrich which takes offence and gives chase. The hyena limps pathetically away, lying down out of kicking distance of the ostrich. Senguru, our guide , sighs and says ‘nature will have her way’. From young cubs, elephants and hartebeest to dead zebras and dying hyenas, we got to see the entire circle of life played out before our eyes over two magnificent days in the Serengeti.
Serengeti and Ngorongoro Crater
It’s 6.30am and we stumble bleary-eyed into two 4x4s waiting to take us to the Serengeti and Ngorongoro Crater national park where we are to spend the next couple of nights.
As we drive through the gate into the Ngorongoro Crater national park I’m struck by the sudden change in vegetation. Behind us are the arid plains that characterize Tanzania but suddenly we’re faced with lush jungle. A thick canopy of trees towers above us. Lianas hang down, their thin tenticular arms brushing the ground. Interspersed among the thick green foliage are cacti-like trees called candelabras and short stumpy bushes full of purple flowers.
We begin to climb to the rim of the crater, our 4x4 straining at the additional effort required to climb the steep muddy road.. The Ngorongoro Crater was formed over thousands of years of volcanic eruptions. As we reach the rim the foliage thins and we catch our first glimpse of the crater. And what a fantastic sight to see: lush jungle drops down to the crater’s edge where it gives way to a vast flat, grassy plain interspersed with soda lakes and oases. Wildlife is free to enter and leave the crater but many animals choose to stay in the crater all year round due to the favourable environment to be found here.
As we follow the road around the rim of the crater, the vegetation that surrounds us, changes again. The earth becomes drier, the grass is no longer green and soon we’re surrounded by the dusty, grassy savannah that is recognized instantaiously as the southern part of the Serengeti national park. Further north the grassy savannah gives way to acacia savannah (grassy plains dotted with acacia trees) and further north still and the Sernegeti transforms again into thicker bush-like scrub.
Entering the Serengeti we are greeted with almost clear, blue skies that stretch across the vast plains of golden grasses. The light is rich and bright, forcing you to squint behind sunglasses as you scan the horizons for signs of life. An acacia tree sets down the slightest bit of shade; a cheetah lays beneath, just inches from the track we’re following. It stretches out in the shade, desperately trying to stay cool.
We head towards the purple-tinged mountains that rise up boldly from the horizon. Here we watch, straining our eyes, as a leopard drags the mangled carcass of a wart hog higher into the branches of tree in which it resides. Shortly after, we’re met with the stomach churning sight of a lioness and her cub tearing away the meat from the hind flank of a zebra. The zebra was pregnant so the flaccid head of the foal is clearly visible, covered in the entrails torn cleanly from the zebra’s body.
Pastal pinks and blues and yellows appear as the light diminishes and dusk begins to fall across the plains. Rays of light break through the thickening clouds and the mountains take on a darker shade of purple.
We head to the campsite where we set up tents and dine. In the evening, casting our torches across the bush, we see the green eyes of hyenas circling as they wait to raid the area for food scraps. As night falls, we go to sleep to the sounds of the witch-like cackle of hyenas as they prowl about our tents.
6.30am the following morning and we head out for a morning game drive just as the sun raises its head over the horizon. The morning air is crisp and cool so we wrap up warm as we begin our search for wildlife. It’s prime hunting time for cats and Simba, (the guide in the other 4x4) is quick to spot a cheetah concealed among the tall grasses.
It’s on high alert, its head twitching as it searches for a flicker of movement or the scent of a dik dik or other small gazelle. Over the horizon come a herd of hartebeest. These would make a formidable opponent to the cheetah but amongst the herd the cheetah spots a young hartebeest, only a few months old. Oblivious to the cheetah’s presence they’re relaxed, grazing happily. The cheetah bows its head, shoulders hunched it crouches closer to the ground and it begins to stalk the herd. Somehow the hartebeest sense the cheetah’s movement. Suddenly, it’s a stand off and both parties stand taught and still as statues staring each other down. They stay like that for what feels like hours, then, suddenly, the large male hartebeest makes a move for it and the others follow, galloping comicly through the grasses. The cheetah barely moves a muscle. Again, the hartebeest stop to stare in the direction of the cheetah. The cheetah starts to move but the hartebeests know exactly where he is. The cheetah doesn’t stand a chance; five minutes later and the hartebeest have negotiated safe passage behind a cluster of rocks, well out of reach of the cheetah. The cheetah sits, defeated.
An hour or so later and we see the magnificent attempt of a lioness as she stalked and then chased a huge herd of Thompson gazelle as they made their way down to a watering hole to drink. She too failed to make a kill and sat looking crest fallen, panting to get her breath back after the sudden exertion.
On our way back to camp we come across a massive herd of elephants. Twenty to thirty elephants surrounded our vehicle as the grazed. We watch as their trunks masterfully remove tender leaves from within the impentrable clusters of thorns and spikes that adorn the trees and bushes.
The sun is high in the sky and the animals retreat into the few shaded spots they can find. We make our way back to the Ngorongoro crater rim where we camp, surrounded by grazing zebra, wart hogs and hyenas.
As we drive through the gate into the Ngorongoro Crater national park I’m struck by the sudden change in vegetation. Behind us are the arid plains that characterize Tanzania but suddenly we’re faced with lush jungle. A thick canopy of trees towers above us. Lianas hang down, their thin tenticular arms brushing the ground. Interspersed among the thick green foliage are cacti-like trees called candelabras and short stumpy bushes full of purple flowers.
We begin to climb to the rim of the crater, our 4x4 straining at the additional effort required to climb the steep muddy road.. The Ngorongoro Crater was formed over thousands of years of volcanic eruptions. As we reach the rim the foliage thins and we catch our first glimpse of the crater. And what a fantastic sight to see: lush jungle drops down to the crater’s edge where it gives way to a vast flat, grassy plain interspersed with soda lakes and oases. Wildlife is free to enter and leave the crater but many animals choose to stay in the crater all year round due to the favourable environment to be found here.
As we follow the road around the rim of the crater, the vegetation that surrounds us, changes again. The earth becomes drier, the grass is no longer green and soon we’re surrounded by the dusty, grassy savannah that is recognized instantaiously as the southern part of the Serengeti national park. Further north the grassy savannah gives way to acacia savannah (grassy plains dotted with acacia trees) and further north still and the Sernegeti transforms again into thicker bush-like scrub.
Entering the Serengeti we are greeted with almost clear, blue skies that stretch across the vast plains of golden grasses. The light is rich and bright, forcing you to squint behind sunglasses as you scan the horizons for signs of life. An acacia tree sets down the slightest bit of shade; a cheetah lays beneath, just inches from the track we’re following. It stretches out in the shade, desperately trying to stay cool.
We head towards the purple-tinged mountains that rise up boldly from the horizon. Here we watch, straining our eyes, as a leopard drags the mangled carcass of a wart hog higher into the branches of tree in which it resides. Shortly after, we’re met with the stomach churning sight of a lioness and her cub tearing away the meat from the hind flank of a zebra. The zebra was pregnant so the flaccid head of the foal is clearly visible, covered in the entrails torn cleanly from the zebra’s body.
Pastal pinks and blues and yellows appear as the light diminishes and dusk begins to fall across the plains. Rays of light break through the thickening clouds and the mountains take on a darker shade of purple.
We head to the campsite where we set up tents and dine. In the evening, casting our torches across the bush, we see the green eyes of hyenas circling as they wait to raid the area for food scraps. As night falls, we go to sleep to the sounds of the witch-like cackle of hyenas as they prowl about our tents.
6.30am the following morning and we head out for a morning game drive just as the sun raises its head over the horizon. The morning air is crisp and cool so we wrap up warm as we begin our search for wildlife. It’s prime hunting time for cats and Simba, (the guide in the other 4x4) is quick to spot a cheetah concealed among the tall grasses.
It’s on high alert, its head twitching as it searches for a flicker of movement or the scent of a dik dik or other small gazelle. Over the horizon come a herd of hartebeest. These would make a formidable opponent to the cheetah but amongst the herd the cheetah spots a young hartebeest, only a few months old. Oblivious to the cheetah’s presence they’re relaxed, grazing happily. The cheetah bows its head, shoulders hunched it crouches closer to the ground and it begins to stalk the herd. Somehow the hartebeest sense the cheetah’s movement. Suddenly, it’s a stand off and both parties stand taught and still as statues staring each other down. They stay like that for what feels like hours, then, suddenly, the large male hartebeest makes a move for it and the others follow, galloping comicly through the grasses. The cheetah barely moves a muscle. Again, the hartebeest stop to stare in the direction of the cheetah. The cheetah starts to move but the hartebeests know exactly where he is. The cheetah doesn’t stand a chance; five minutes later and the hartebeest have negotiated safe passage behind a cluster of rocks, well out of reach of the cheetah. The cheetah sits, defeated.
An hour or so later and we see the magnificent attempt of a lioness as she stalked and then chased a huge herd of Thompson gazelle as they made their way down to a watering hole to drink. She too failed to make a kill and sat looking crest fallen, panting to get her breath back after the sudden exertion.
On our way back to camp we come across a massive herd of elephants. Twenty to thirty elephants surrounded our vehicle as the grazed. We watch as their trunks masterfully remove tender leaves from within the impentrable clusters of thorns and spikes that adorn the trees and bushes.
The sun is high in the sky and the animals retreat into the few shaded spots they can find. We make our way back to the Ngorongoro crater rim where we camp, surrounded by grazing zebra, wart hogs and hyenas.
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