Woken early by the owner's dogs providing a pre-dawn and a dawn chorus. I rush out to find my journal (which I had left outside when called over to play bao) was safely tucked away into the truck. We leave camp at 6.30 for a long drive to Tanzania.
Another 5km and we can use the new M1 -- so smooth I can write my journal on it! The last night at Senga Bay we didn't put Mosi-guard on, Helen has over a dozen bites by something to prove it. As ever, the second day is when you really notice them. Ouch!
Sadly, the road quality didn't last forever as the need [for someone] to dig a trench across the road occurred. Still, good progress made bar some potholes. First impressions of Tanzania: the immigration loos are a bit poor (as everywhere); dozens of people wanting to do "business" (money exchange); the roads are good enough to write on (my new standard [for road quality]); the Tanzanians have a lot more brick houses rather than mud huts. Lots of banana plants and what looked like tea bushes and periodically, pine trees.
I dozed off only to wake a bit chilly. It turned out we had climbed to over 2000m and the view was dominated by lawn grass and pine trees. It could have been Switzerland. Periodically, the trees [no longer pines] make it look quite English. We stop for diesel in Mbeya at the junction of the B345 north and the A104 east to Dar Es Salaam on the plateau which looks desolate compared to the previous lush parts.
Paul notes that the toilet block will only have holes in the ground in this Muslim run country. That certainly explains the border crossing. Tanzanian literacy can't be too bad either as there are plenty of non-English signs. Even a Pepsi sign over the road from a Coke advert.
The A104 from from Mbeya drops down then back up between one and two thousand metres with bush having made way for forest and grassland. We pass a railway line where there is a clear pass from a storm drain under the embankment -- can crawling through a 1m diameter storm drain be a shortcut past a 6m embankment? Sadly the roads have gotten a bit worse but still the best so far (excluding South Africa).
Finally, we reach Kisalanza Farm after a good deal of sleeping on the truck (too many early mornings -- at least the clocks have gone forward in Tanzania and sunrise is an hour later).
Kisalonza Farm S8.14681
E35.41224 Elev. 1725m.
Throughout Africa we've seen lots of disused and partly built buildings -- I'm sure that's increased in Tanzania. A lot of buildings have the shell complete but no roof or windows or doors (corrugated iron roofs are the preferred options, a straw roof needs annual maintenance). But there's a lot [of disused/derelict buildings]. Coming into a town or village maybe one in five buildings is being built. Maybe as many again are derelict. Ruins are rare [in Africa] (materials are scavenged?) but there are more in Tanzania. [Buildings] have more rooms and extension rooms. There's a lot more Western style concrete buildings but are almost exclusively commercial buildings. BP petrol stations are everywhere in Africa and might have been transported from Europe. Big towns all have supermarkets that are no different from Europe -- you can buy most things especially toiletries: Colgate, tampax even Dove.
At the farm (we didn't see much evidence of agriculture) Helen and I didn't rush to the showers (there were two) and then another truck pulled up and twenty more people joined the queue. It looked like another dirty camp was in order. In the end I made it in after tea but by that time Helen was in a foul mood about the whole affair and retired early. Off to the bar for a quick beer and I listen to a few tales of travelling.
The trouble is, though, that as far as I can tell most travellers aren't particularly interested in where they are travelling -- thay talk about the Vic Falls of this world (adventure activities and parties). Worse, the second truck (with Brits) talking about home or catching malaria. We must be just as guilty but I'd like to think that if I spoke to someone about Africa I would tell them what I know about Africa rather how much I drank at the bar (which isn't a lot as beer at the bar has [generally] been costing about US$1 per bottle).
That leads me onto another social gripe. I think I might have been noted, in my time, for enjoying a beer at the bar. On the other hand it's not a requiremnet every night especially when you're not used to the early mornings. The last few nights I have partaken of a tipple and yet the social pack [of the tour group] (particularly, Rolf, who's constant one-upmanship and snide remarks -- Dutch for humour? -- can't have endeared him to many) insist on commenting on my attendance [versus my general absence earlier in the tour]. Last night I was reduced to staring in silence at him [Rolf] for a few seconds before turning away in silence back to my conversation that he'd interrupted. Yes, he's one of those constant interruptors.
Finally, I realised we hadn't taken our Doxycyline tonight and had to creep around the campsite looking for a cup. Still it was almost a full moon and a clear night which leaves crisp moonshadows -- always enjoyable.
PS. My unscientific timing of the "long drop" toilets suggests they were over 10m deep!
Copyright 2002 Ian Fitchet. All rights reserved.