Border Bribes
We arrived at the border and pulled underneath a porte-cochère — except there was no valet to attend to PJ. Instead, a man greeted us and asked if Coons wanted to exchange money. He negotiated with one gentleman who scoffed at Coons’ exchange rate app saying that the internet was making his job much harder (read: he cannot rip people off as easily anymore).
The border was pretty standard as borders go. We signed in and paid for our visas, although, there is no fancy sticker for Tanzania. They just ask for $100 USD and give you a regular stamp and write in pen that you are allowed multiple entries for one year. Boring! If we’re paying that much, we at least want a sticker! We registered the car and needed to walk to the bank to deposit the funds. We tried one bank up the hill, but their servers were down. So we walked to the next bank past a police officer who greeted us in the oddest way as if we might be in trouble for not greeting him properly. After chatting for a bit with him, we went to the second bank where the attendant informed us that he dreams of going to Dallas because he knows a lot of Tanzanians that live there. This was a common theme throughout Africa. Each country, or region, has an area in the US that everyone goes to. Best we can tell, one person from the area goes somewhere in the US, then tells everyone it’s OK and more join them. From there, more and more come until it’s the only spot they would consider moving.
Once we were set we hopped in PJ and drove through the gate where we were immediately stopped and asked to pull over. An unofficial-looking man said there was a 10,000 Schilling (~$4.50) fee to pass through the gate. We said “no, thank you” and rolled up our window. He probably should have asked us before he let us through the gate! We had read on iOverlander that this man would be here collecting money illegally. Why the border patrol officers sitting around in the shade doing nothing don’t stop these men is beyond us, especially when they have signs with mission statements boasting about their commitment to safe, corruption-free crossings. All in all, this border was pretty painless though.
Crossing into Tanzania, we were rewarded with our first glimpse of vast greenness. It was breathtaking the number of palm trees for as far as the eye could see, and so so green. Of course, green means rain, but that was a problem for another day.
Book It
At this point, we had to be in Uganda to start volunteering, so we were trying to haul it through Tanzania as fast as we could. The roads were terrible! And by that, we mean that they were working on a road that pedestrians and cyclists used which was paved and smooth, and we were on bumpy, uneven, crimson mud off to the side. We wild camped both nights on the way to Uganda. The first was off a dirt road near a field where we saw some cows and a few people walking around, but no one bothered us. The second was a quarry that was being used for the road work. We tried to hide off to the side and distance ourselves from others, but as we were cooking our meal, a security officer approached speaking only Swahili. We managed to understand that we could camp here, but it’s dangerous because the locals aren’t happy with the construction, but he would protect us. He hung around to try and speak with us, and we decided we should feed him in exchange for his protection. He was very grateful for a full meal and some coffee (we were drinking wine but figured coffee would help him stay up). He even called his wife to tell her of his good fortune. After dinner, we went right up to the tent and passed an uneventful night.
The next morning we packed up in the pouring rain, again. The guard was nowhere to be found, so we left. Here you are still only allowed to drive 50 in towns and “not 50” outside of towns. However, there are towns EV-ER-Y-WHERE! The police are notorious in Tanzania for their speeding tickets, especially to overlanders. We got pulled over for the first time shortly before the border, but the officer told us he “felt the holy spirit of Jesus” and let us pass. Unfortunately, this would be the exception rather than the rule.
Hospital Detour
After leaving Rwanda, we were faced with another journey across Tanzania, this time West to East. We planned on a couple long driving days, but on November 26th, Coons started to feel really really sick to his stomach. Kourtney offered to take over, and surprisingly, he said yes immediately. Within a few minutes, Coons reported he might pass out, and as he was trying to roll down his window, his eyes rolled back into his head, and he went ghostly white. Kourtney pulled over and ran over to the passenger side of the vehicle. Not well versed in syncope, Kourtney checked for breathing and a heartbeat, yelling “HELP!” to anyone who might hear. Watching a body seize and convulse to provide oxygen back to the brain is fucking terrifying — there’s no other way to say it (he certainly doesn’t faint like a Disney princess). Find a nurse, doctor, EMT, or other medical professional and give them a crisp high-five for all they do! And what do you do when you’re in the middle of freakin’ nowhere speaking a foreign language?
Kourtney turned on Coons’ data to try and find a hospital as he regained consciousness. Providing a cool cloth for his head, she found a clinic, but a nice woman came forward from the crowd gathering to watch, pointing that there was a Mzungu hospital nearby and that she would take us there. Thank goodness ‘hospital’ is one of those universal words because this conversation was mostly gesturing. Our good samaritan and her friend crammed in the back and we went to the hospital. After one hour and $8 USD, we found out that Coons had a bacterial infection in his blood, and they sent us on our way with some antibiotics and pain killers. Kourtney’s first thought was today is the day we’re supposed to take our Bilharzia medication. Remember we mentioned that parasite living in the lake in Malawi? Well, you’re supposed to wait six weeks to take the medication and November 26 was precisely six weeks since we left Malawi. Leave it to Coons to be right on time!
So Kourtney continued to drive, watching Coons’ chest rise and fall beside her at he napped it off, but there was no way we were making it as far as we wanted. We stopped earlier than expected and stayed in a hotel. When we woke up to leave the next morning, the gatekeeper was washing our car, so we tipped him and were on way to an oasis on the hill.
Revenue Authority
After recovering in the hotel room, Coons was well enough to hit the road again. A couple of hours into the day, near Katesh, we were pulled over by an officer who had a WhatsApp picture of us driving 85 in a 50. We told him this was incorrect and that we’d read about police taking pictures of vehicles, changing the numbers, and then stopping them kilometers later. He showed us the time (30 minutes prior) and the date (today) and said this was legitimate. We told him this situation sounded sketchy, and he replied that they like to place the cameras where people cannot see, so they can see how fast people drive in towns when the police aren’t around. We told him we wanted to see the speed camera footage and we were happy to wait. He replied that his supervisor wanted to see us and he would need us to take him to the station 10 kilometers down the road. Thinking he might give up, we told him we had no room. So he pulled over another vehicle and was able to get a ride to the station with them, telling us to follow him.
The first thing the supervising officer said was that we had been arrested. This was either a great scare tactic or his English needed a bit of work. We explained our situation over and over to each man but they wouldn’t let up. They said it would take two more hours for the officer with the speed camera to arrive because he would have to take a bus. Not wanting to spend all day at the police station, we opted to pay the 30,000 Schillings ($13 USD). The officer then brought us to the bank and we deposited the money in the police account. He made a point to demonstrate that he wasn’t pocketing the money like we told him most police did. Then we walked back to the police station where we had to wait for a receipt. Another officer had to take a boda boda (motorbike) to deliver a new receipt machine because the one at the station wasn’t working. These men actually pay their own money for these rides back and forth! You have to admire their perseverance, I guess, although we would have been much happier with a warning.
The second time we were fined was leaving Arusha, a busy tourist town that could absolutely use police directing traffic to keep people safe and honest. We were super excited to finally be back in real grocery store territory — one-stop shopping is something we’ll never take for granted again. We had a delicious lunch of fish tacos, and we were heading toward Mt. Kilimanjaro. Instead, the Tanzania police have decided to single-handily keep the government afloat by fining (mostly, white) people. Outside of town, in the distance, was an officer in white in the middle of the road (in a not 50 mind you), standing with his hand straight up. He stopped us and called the man over with the speed gun. 57 in a 50 which is like 35 mph in a 31 mph. Are. You. Freaking. Kidding. Me?!
He told us to pay him 30,000 in cash and we said we wouldn’t pay him and would only pay a bank. And there was no way he was letting us go; we tried. Unfortunately, there was a bank right next to us, so he was all too happy to walk with Kourtney to deposit the money. He wasn’t even as cheeky as the other man, and she feels bad about it, but Kourtney lost her temper and bickered with the officer. We’re just trying to tour Tanzania and have a good time, and you know what, we are NOT feeling most welcome.
East Tanzania
Eager to put the police behind us, we headed to our next destination, Migombani Campsite. Marcos and Natch had raved to us about this place and after some pretty awful campsites in the West, we were very excited for a proper campsite again. We were only planning on staying one night, but after we pulled in, we knew we would be here at least two. Even though we were right outside the Serengeti and Ngorongoro Crater National Parks, we couldn’t pull the trigger on a visit. The national parks in Tanzania are incredibly expensive — to enter for the day with PJ would have set us back a couple hundred dollars. When we compared that to the parks in Southern Africa we were visiting for less than $50/day, we couldn’t justify it.
After a couple of days resting at Migombani, we were eager to check out the next attraction — Mt. Kilimanjaro. We stayed at two separate campsites with views of this enormous beauty and caught the smallest glimpse of it at 6am the day of our departure. It was spectacular looking. There was even a rainbow peeking out in between the rain, sun, and clouds. To climb it takes seven days and around $2,500 per person. We cannot wait to return and conquer that beast!
Eventually, we would reach Dar Es Salaam, our gateway to Mafia Island. Dar, for short, is a busy city with a lot of construction currently going on. We like to play a game and guess in what year we should return to see the project finished; this one is at least a decade. We stayed in a nice hostel, and the women gave us a feast for breakfast. They win the award for best chapatis!
Mafia Island
We arrived at the local airport at 11am thinking we would buy flight tickets for the next day, but the travel agent said the pilot could take us at 4:30 that afternoon, so we said why not and booked it. We negotiated the price down quite a bit and then parked in the compound of the police department where they said we could leave our car for the three days. They even let us keep our keys after we protested!
This small charter plane was a better alternative to the ferry which left anywhere from 2am-5am depending on the tides and took about four hours. There is no safety equipment and no coast guard to speak of, so if it goes down, you’re gonna have a bad time. Thankfully, Mama Coons gave us some money so we used that to ride in style, Africa speaking. The plane ride was bumpy and seemed to be moving so slowly that we thought we might fall out of the sky, but we made it!
We were there for one reason and one reason only — to swim with whale sharks. We had been chasing them around the globe at this point, missing them in Mexico in October and Honduras in November. We were out the next day on the first boat, and it seemed like they were just waiting for Coons. Afro Whale Shark Safaris doesn’t chum the water, so they get near the sharks, cut the engine, and then tell us when to jump out. Decked out in our fins and snorkel gear, we would duck underwater and try to swim with them as fast as we could. They were huuuuuggggeeee — the longest one around 36 feet in length. The water is murky because the plankton are plentiful, and they swam past with their mouths open; tiny yellow fish cruise in front of them just escaping a gulp. At their pectoral fins were small white fish dragging off them like an Olympian swimmer. It was just as awesome as we imagined, and after two hours, we were tired and happy.
The nice thing about Mafia Island is that it isn’t as touristy as Zanzibar, so we weren’t being hassled, and we were paying local prices for fresh pineapple and mango. The local cuisine was pretty tasty and usually contained seafood to go alongside the normal rice and beans.
Eager to get back in the water, we decided to go snorkeling in the marina the morning before our flight back to Dar. We ended up snorkeling in the rain which was pretty cool and saw lionfish, starfish, eel, and the most elaborate coral. By the afternoon, the rain cleared to yield a bright sunny day — we had the sunburn to prove it!
So we continued our journey, driving by day, and camping at some pretty cool places by night. Sometimes in the lush greenery, relaxing poolside in the heat; sometimes we were in the sand, relaxing in the hammock, or looking for crabs in the sand.
We’re not sure where it is best to view the African sunset, but it might be the beach! We will try and remember these accommodations and forget the ones in small towns with broken AC when it’s over 90 degrees out, no bug net when the place is infested with insects, and of course the blaring speakers at all hours of the night! The next day we would reach our final country in Africa, number 13, Mozambique!
