On Tour

Having a friend come out to visit in March, I'd saved the really touristy attractions of Tanzania to experience together with him. I was a bit nervous that a first time trip to Africa would be a huge challenge for some people and hoped that the poverty, accommodation and safety of transportation would not be too much of a culture shock. I hope he won't mind me sharing but my concerns were raised when, on arriving at the hotel in Dar Es Salaam, he was very reluctant to use the toilet. My fears were ill-founded and after a night's sleep and a portion of street-barbecued chicken and (possibly) unwashed salad, my friend not only sat on the toilet he embraced everything that Tanzania had to give.

The first part of the adventure involved climbing Mount Meru, the second highest mountain in Tanzania at 4562m. Having stopped any regular exercise months ago and despite gaining a few* pounds, I still thought climbing Mount Kilimanjaro's smaller sister would be more of a hike than a real challenge. Turned out I was wrong and on Day 3 after waking at midnight for a 5 hour climb to the summit to see the sunrise, the full impact of my sloth-like fitness regime reached its crescendo as I was pushed from behind over the crest of the mountain. Of course, I had missed the sunrise and the rest of my group (except my friend) had already started their descent but at least I made it to the top, albeit dry-retching and feeling truly awful. I wish I could blame altitude sickness but I walked even slower on the way back down even with both the guide and my friend sharing my load and clothes as I discarded them. Fourteen hours of walking later we reached the lowest hut and the rescue car was called in to drive us the rest of the way off the mountain. Embarrassing.

Week 2 we were joined by more friends for a far more leisurely trip to the safari parks of the north. All the animals came out to play; sometimes too close for comfort. It was hard to remember you weren't in a zoo they looked so peaceful, at least that was my excuse as our guide had to pull me back into the car when I tried to get out to see the lions up close. They were 3 metres away and I would "surely have been attacked" if they had heard me, or so my over-protective guide said. The cats looked completely nonchalant to me, sleeping off the feast of an earlier zebra kill. I'm sure they wouldn't have noticed me...

My trip highlight was driving through the Ngorongoro Conservation Area which unlike safari parks is inhabited by people as well as animals. The Maasai tribes live side by side with the zebra, wildebeest and giraffes although their villages are surrounded by tall fences to keep out the lions and other predators and protect their own herds. We visited one of the villages where I had the oddest experience of sitting in a dark Maasai hut made out of dried cow dung and full of flies. The Maasai have their own language, Kimaasai, but one of the tribal warriors and I talked in Kiswahili whilst I translated for my friends to describe typical village life. Not something I would have predicted I would be doing a year ago.

The night-time rains became a challenge as our tents couldn't resist the downpour any longer and we awoke to soggy sleeping bags, wet clothes, wrecked I-phones and broken spirits. The mud also meant we got stuck in the middle of the Serengeti for two hours despite our best efforts to dig out the car. Luckily the smell of fear did not attract any beasties although the vultures weren't too far off. By the fifth night the boys had had enough of the rain and stayed in a local guesthouse. Nature came a bit too close for comfort that night, when walking back to my own tent I noticed the camp was full of buffalo. Although described as the most dangerous of the Big Five, thankfully it is also a vegetarian.

The final week of our trip was spent drying out on the beaches of Zanzibar. The crystal clear ocean, freshly cooked seafood and relaxing by the infinity pool were well appreciated by everyone. Sadly the snorkelling trip and ensuing violent seasickness wasn't nor was the food poisoning and weeklong diarrhoea.

Reading this back, the holiday sounds like a unrelenting nightmare which I promise wasn't the case. Well, maybe a few small, unrelated horrors that kept on coming but then isn't that what makes going home again so special......?

*a few pounds may be an underestimate.

The other side

A couple of months ago I had my first experience of a Tanzanian funeral. One of the nurses fell ill suddenly after finishing her shift on Valentine's Day. Within a few minutes she was dead. Cause of death is often speculation and rumour without the facilities for a post-mortem. Perhaps more realistically why someone dies is irrelevant in most cases. Not only is it a tragedy for the family but the loss of a salary can have huge consequences on their future.

Not having experienced death in Tanzania the rituals and traditions that surround it were new to me. Within an hour, the news of her passing had spread around the village.  Phones were buzzing with the grizzly details and her final moments became a common topic of conversation in homes and at the market stalls. Being a member of staff the funeral costs were paid for by the hospital and sacks of flour and a coffin were sent to her family.

The next morning, I went with my neighbour to the family home to view the body and pay my respects. She had lived in a typical village home that had a few disconnected rooms surrounding a central open area where people would meet to cook, wash clothes and socialise. A large metal barrel collected rain water that was running off the roof and the women worked to keep the fire going under the pan of boiling water that was ready to cook the ugali.

I was led to one of the smallest rooms made of mud with a tin roof. Coloured cloth was hanging across the doorway and it was dark inside. The body was wrapped and laid on a bed, surrounded by people sat on the sand floor. The shroud covering her head was undone and a torch held up to her face so that I would be able to see. My first dead body and without the luxury of fridges or formaldehyde. Afterwards I was taken to see the matriarch of the family who was sat on the floor of another small room surrounded by a group of solemn women. Her eyes were fixed on the floor and her chin was touching her chest as I offered my regrets and gave her a small amount of money. The onset of wailing from outside signalled the arrival of senior female relatives who were led into the room, supported under each arm by more women. Their heads and faces were fully covered with scarves and whilst they wailed with a passion they discreetly rejected incoming phone calls on the mobile phones in their pockets.

Before the burial a mass was held in the village Catholic Church.  A priest arrived from a town 2 hours away after the local father refused to hold a funeral service for someone who did not attend church regularly. The church was full of women dressed head to toe in brightly coloured kangas. According to Tanzanian culture, death is the most critical situation to the bereaved and helping a family during this time is considered an indication of friendship. To be seen to attend a funeral is very important in the Swahili culture. Time off from work for burials is a common occurrence and representatives from each hospital department are often called on to attend funerals in distant villages of colleagues' parents or relations.

The graveyard was already full by the time the congregation arrived, Muslim well-wishers having bypassed the church service. Small groups of people whispered amongst themselves and the odd woman had to be carried off, inconsolable. Men at the graveside performed the final ritual as they fought over the spades used to cover the coffin with dirt. Then it was over. The crowds slowly departed, drifting back towards the village and their homes to carry on with their lives. 

After 18 months in Tanzania, I have the feeling that certain things are taken for granted. Life will be hard. Death will likely come early. And there is very little that can be done to change either.