The Great Safari: Part 2

We chose the only day of the week to continue our safari where there was no direct transport to the next destination. So at 6am we were on a bus to Bwanga hoping to intercept a cross-country bus. Bwanga is a dusty settlement in the middle of nowhere with a cluster of dilapidated buildings that seem to exist purely due to the presence of the road junction. Skirting the children selling honey in gin bottles, I handed over more money for the second bus ticket of the day. No-one knew for sure when the buses from Mwanza would pass by so I was surprised when after only 90 minutes of villager-watching the Adveture Connection (sic) bus bounced over a hill into view. The inside of the bus was covered in a film of orange dust and there were many empty seats which was unexpected and foreboding. The few passengers on-board looked to be in a state of mild shock. Fifty metres out of Bwanga the paved road ended. For 11 more hours we bounced along a dusty red road on a bone-jarring 555km ride past countless villages with a booming onion industry, judging by the buckets paraded at the windows. In front, a man had 3 big fish tied to the luggage rack that kept hitting his neighbour in the face; combined with the pervasive dust and the Bongo Flava tunes, the assault on the senses was merciless. Just when the lights of Kigoma could be seen in the distance, the bus gave up; everyone disembarked and the driver disappeared underneath with a hammer for an hour. Darkness adding to the excitement of the journey, the bus continued to break down every 15 minutes followed by a period of frantic undercarriage hammering which I fancied was a ploy to make us targets of the armed bandits that prowl the region.

Eventually we passed NGO offices and UN refugee camps signalling our arrival in Kigoma. Kigoma is Lake Tanganyika's busiest port, handling most of Burundi's foreign trade and serving as the main arrival point for refugees fleeing Central Africa's conflicts, so French is widely spoken.  It is also the end of the cross-country railway line from Dar Es Salaam and is a few kilometres from the village of Ujiji where Stanley's famous line, "Dr Livingstone, I presume?" can be quoted by all.

Kigoma is the also the gateway to Gombe Stream, the smallest and most expensive of Tanzania's National Parks. The only way to reach the park is by boat on Lake Tanganyika; either the Park boat for $350 or an "overcrowded, potentially dangerous" (Rough Guide 2012) lake taxi for $2.50. As I quote the Rough Guide it probably indicates I'm a lake taxi candidate. Six days a week, 2 lake taxis depart from the fishing village of Kibirizi. As soon as you step on the beach, one of the captains pulls you in the direction of their vessel, which at 11am when we boarded was almost empty. Two hours later 300 passengers had filled every conceivable space so we set off at a slow tempo and a dangerous lilt northwards on Lake Tanganyika. After 3 more hours in the burning sun having chatted to many a fellow traveller interested in my life story, we arrived at Gombe National Park. Shopping and backpacks were passed hand to hand until they reached the jetty before me as I struggled to climb over bodies, under beams and past the crates of soda, tractor tyres, chickens and solar panels.

Before we had started a guided walk the next day, 15 chimpanzees passed by the accommodation block on a search for breakfast. We set off after them with our guide Halfani abiding by the park rules: Do not look directly into a chimp's eyes and if one charges, hug the nearest tree. Titan a young male chimp led us to the rest of his family including Sparrow the oldest chimp in the park at 55. The animals didn't seemed fazed by our presence at all, often breaking the 10 metre distance restriction and walking right past us. They ate, played, groomed and fornicated whilst we took photos.

Sparrow, the matriarch of the Kasekela Chimpanzee community

The park rangers and field researchers live in a small village within the Park with their families. Since alpha male Frodo killed and ate part of a 14-month old (human) baby in 2002, the staff housing is surrounded by metal cages and children are always kept inside, much to the amusement of my travelling buddy Paul, who believes children should always be kept in cages regardless of whether they're in a National Park. The chimps may be occasionally dangerous but the resident baboons are the greater pest, taking food from the kitchen, ripping through mosquito netting to get into the bedrooms or stealing clothes from the washing lines. Reminds me of University life.