And Back

As my internship has ended and the emphasis has shifted from the “to Dar” to “and back”, this is my last post.

On Sunday, I got a bird’s eye view of Dar, as my plane glided over it on the way to Nairobi and, ultimately, to London. My last look at Dar left me feeling slightly sad to be leaving the life I had created in Dar, my co-workers and my friends. It also instantly erased my memory of the little irritations and inconveniences that were part and parcel of being in Dar. Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed being in Dar and I’m going to miss its distinctive, quirky attributes, such as the call to prayer in the early morning, the mishmash of Indian, Muslim and Tanzanian culture, and the open friendliness of Tanzanians.

Being somewhat inspired by the recent Oscars, I would like to send a big thank you to some of the people that made it possible for me to be in Dar and to make the most of my experience there. These people include my family who provided me with emotional support, as I found my feet in Tanzania and when I had unexpected, Tanzanian moments; Cristiano, who shared all the bumps and the fun of being in Dar; and, Al Cook, the CBA Program Director, who put things in perspective. I can almost hear the music starting to play so I’m going to end it there. Needless to say, there are many other people who contributed to me having a great internship.

For any one interested in participating in the CBA’s internship, please visit the CBA’s Young Professionals International Program at http://www.cba.org/cba/idp/yiip/.

Intern to Intern

Be warned, you may find this post boring unless you are planning to do an internship in Tanzania. The information below consists of some of the A to Zs of being posted at the LHRC in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania as a part of the CBA’s Young Professionals’ International Program.

Accommodation: the LHRC may help you with housing or you may have to go it alone. If you go it alone, look at Advertising in Dar for rental ads. Because the traffic in Dar is terrible, I suggest looking for housing in areas that are close to the office. A few things to look out for in your new house are: air conditioning (there will come a time when you need it), water storage tanks, mosquito netting on the windows, and a generator. The last item is not strictly necessary, but the other three are fairly important. We had to pay all our rent up front, which seems to be the general practice. However, it is illegal to ask for more than 6 months rent up front and it leaves you with little leverage should you need it.

While you are looking for accommodation, there are a couple of hostels that are fairly cheap (and a little dodgy) that you can stay at downtown, namely the Jambo Inn and the Safari Inn. On the Msasani Peninsula, there is the slightly more expensive and sometimes hang out for prostitutes, the Q Bar.

Dalla dallas: Dalla dallas run throughout the city. At the moment, a dalla dalla trip costs Tsh300 ($0.30). The destinations of the dalla dallas are stenciled on the front of each dalla dalla. If you need the conductor to give you a heads up on where to get off, say Naomba masada [name of the place]. They will let you know when you get there. The dalla dalla stop by the LHRC is called Sayansi.

Dress code: The dress code at the LHRC is fairly formal. You don’t have to wear a suit everyday (although you should bring one with you), but you do need to look fairly smart. Outside of the office, cool summer clothes and flip flops are the order of the day.

Gyms: There are a number of gyms in Dar. The price per use can range from Tsh6,000 to Tsh15,000, depending on the type of equipment and whether there is a/c. There is yoga twice a week at the Fitness Zone (Msasani Peninsula, near the Irish Pub) and the Golden Tulip (Msasani Peninsula). The Golden Tulip also has a great swimming pool, which you can use for Tsh10,000.

Money: I was unable to obtain TZ shillings in Canada, which wasn’t a big deal. You can draw money as soon as you get to Dar from an ATM at the airport. You need to have a 4 number PIN in order to use the ATMs in TZ. Not all ATMs accept Canadian debit cards, so keep your eyes out for Barclay’s Bank ATMs. You can draw a maximum of Tsh400,000 at a go, which is roughly $400.

Power of Attorney: it is a good idea to give Power of Attorney to someone before you leave. I gave my Mom POA and she basically ensured that my Canadian life kept ticking for the past eight months. Without her, things would be a bit of a mess.

Restaurants: There are a host of good restaurants in Dar, you just have to find them. A few of my favourites are Jan’s Trattoria on Kimweri Avenue, the Indian Badminton Club and Retreat downtown, and the fish restaurant and coffee house at Sea Cliff on the Msasani Peninsula.

Shopping: There are a number of places to shop. If you are shopping for food, Shirjee’s has a very good selection of fresh produce and other stuff. It has locations at Morogoro (near QBar), Shopper’s Plaza and Millenium Towers (near the LHRC). There is also a good grocery store at Sea Cliff. If you are shopping for household stuff, Game in Milimani Mall is a good bet. Of course, there is also the Karikoo area downtown, which hosts a horde of shops that sell everything. I didn’t find somewhere to buy clothes, but I didn’t look that hard.

Student Loans: if you have any government student loans, I suggest getting interest relief before you leave Canada. It is very difficult, if not impossible, to call toll free numbers from Tanzania and automated telephone systems can drain your phone of credit in no time.

Swahili: everyone at the LHRC speaks Swahili and English. I found that my relationship with my co-workers improved dramatically when I picked up a little Swahili. Learning Swahili also made it easier for me to get around. I would suggest bringing a Swahili dictionary with you to Tanzania and, if you are interested, taking lessons. Cristiano and I took lessons with Mama Jengo from KIU Ltd.. Her number is 0754296312.

Taxis: the taxi fare from the airport to the city and beyond should be about Tsh20,000. The taxi drivers will try to convince you that the ‘official’ rate (which is supported by a clipboard and a piece of paper) is $35 USD. Don’t listen to them and bargain. There are no taxi meters and every fare needs to be agreed on before you leave the taxi rank. The fare is normally 1/3 to ½ the price that is first quoted.

USB key: The LHRC server is prone to having viruses. It is a good idea to back up your work as you go along either on a USB key, or by emailing it to yourself.

Visa: it is most likely that you will obtain a three month tourist visa while in Canada and a resident’s visa once you get to Tanzania. The CBA Program Coordinator has the appropriate form for the resident’s visa. It is likely that Rose, the human resources person at the LHRC, will take you through the paces to get a resident’s visa once you arrive in Tanzania.

As a caveat, the information in this post is correct as of today's date and is based on my experiences. Things may change in the next 6 months. Good luck and have a great internship.

Getting caned

In Tanzania, corporal punishment is still used in schools as a means of disciplining pupils. The use of corporal punishment in schools is governed by the Education (Corporal Punishment) Regulations, which provides that a head teacher can strike a pupil on the hands or buttocks for serious breaches of school discipline. In a 2007 survey conducted in Tanzanian schools, 80 percent of students indicated that their teachers used corporal punishment. In the past few years, questions have been raised about the efficacy of corporal punishment as a punishment. In addition, concerns have been raised about the impact of corporal punishment on the quality of learning. In the 2007 survey mentioned above, children had indicated that they experienced difficulties learning from a teacher when they feared the teacher would use corporal punishment or other measures to demean or humilate them.

Ironically, in February 2009, the Bukoba District Commissioner, Albert Mnali, had 19 primary school teachers caned by a police officer. According to the Districit Commissioner, he ordered the teachers to be caned for lateness, truancy and not following the official syllabus. However, the teachers' union has connected the caning to a dispute between the union and the government over teachers' salary arrears. The District Commissioner has been dismissed.

Body language

One the things I love about Tanzania is the wealth of non-verbal communication that litters every day. For instance, when I am running desperately late and speed walking to the dalla dalla that is rocking back and forth on its shocks in anticipation of leaving, all I have to do is lift my eyebrows once or twice and the conductor knows I need to be on that dalla dalla and governs himself accordingly. The eyebrow wiggle and a sharp lift of the chin are key tools in catching someone's attention and, usually, they indicate that you want whatever the other person is offering.

My second favourite gesture is the reverse "twinkle, twinkle little star" hand movement. Doing this motion does not indicate that you are a fan of children's nursery rhymes, rather it is a come over here gesture. If you are in a restuarant and want the waiter to come over to your table, a little twinkle, twinkle is all you need. Of course, you have to catch your waiter's eye first. Then there are the guys who sell individual sweets, 2 tablespoon packets of peanuts and lone cigarettes that get your attention by carefully balancing a roll of coins in one hand that they jounce together to form a distinctive and compelling sound.

Last, but not least, there is the handshake and tano. I know, we shake hands in Canada too. However, the Tanzanian handshake is a little bit different. It starts out the same as the Canadian handshake, but instead of letting go at the end, you start sliding your hands apart before you grip each other's fingertips (kind of like when you lock hands to do a thumb war) and flick your thumbs across each other. We may have to try out this handshake when we get home. Then there is tano. Tano literally means five in Swahili, but it is also means when two people each make a hand into a closed fist and bump each other's knuckles together. If you are getting really fancy, you can tano with both hands before bumping elbows. It is what all the cool kids do, including one of my younger co-workers and I.

Shaking my body

Every Monday, one of my co-workers and I discuss our weekend doings and whether we had a chance to "shake our bodies". This weekend I shook my body with a few thousand other people at Sauti za Busara ("Sounds of Wisedom"), a six day musical festival in Stone Town, Zanzibar that showcases musical talent from across the African continent. This festival is held on an annual basis and attracts people from all over Africa, both in terms of spectators and participants.

The Stone Town we arrived in on Saturday morning was buzzing with energy and with wazungus (I think half of Dar had decamped to Stone Town on Thursday when the festival started). A marked contrast to the rather staid and quiet Zanzibar that Wes and I visited during Ramadan and during Eid al-Fitr. The energy was infectious. On Saturday evening, we got our first taste of what the energy and excitement was all about. We watched in amazement, as artist after artist confidently took to the stage and blew us away. At the start of the evening, everyone was sitting very demurely on the grass soaking in the music. However, by the time the last band hit the stage around midnight, the crowd was enthusiastically shaking their bodies.

For me, the emphasis on Sunday shifted from enjoying the music to enjoying the crowd that was attending the festival. The crowd was a mixed bag of ex-pats, tourists and locals. I had the good fortune to spend the evening sitting with a group of Muslim ladies and their children, who were endlessly fascinated by the mzungu bouncing away to the music. Ultimately, I bounced away to the music with a child holding each hand and a little boy leaning on my shoulders for support, as he tried all his moves. He had some pretty good moves, despite being only 2 or 3 years old. I was suitably impressed.

My favourites artists of the festival were the The Moreira Project from South Africa, Nawal from the Comoros and Samba Mapangala & Orchestre Virunga from the DRC/Kenya.

Obama mania

Obama is big in Tanzania, BIG. Before the elections, there were a number of parties hosted in Tanzania to show support for Obama and any number of t-shirts with Obama's face silk screened on in yellow, green and blue (the colours of Tanzania’s flag) up for sale. Every man and his dog had an Obama t-shirt. Election day came and for about an hour between 6:30 a.m. and 7:30 a.m. time stood still as people stayed glued to their television sets, the air thick in anticipation of the election results. The Obama win was celebrated in my office with big smiles, vigorous hand shakes and lots of hand slapping. Obama mania did not die out after the election. Rather, it resulted in Obama American Garden ads (American Garden is a company that produces food products and it is from the UAE but you would never know that from their advertising or their name) and the Obama kanga, which is pictured above.

A kanga is a length of cotton material that is approximately 1.5 m by 0.5 metre that is normally decorated with a vibrant pattern and that contains a Swahili saying. The Swahili saying is what makes a kanga a kanga. The saying in the Obama kanga is “love and peace to be granted to you by God” or something along those lines. My translation skills are not great. Kanga sayings tend to be proverbs that give messages of love, warning or caution, so it serves you well to know just what your kanga is saying.

From what I’ve seen, kangas are worn wrapped around a woman’s waist, used as a shawl or a head scarf, used as a sling to secure a baby to a woman’s back, or rolled up to create a cushion between a woman’s head and the item she is carrying on her head. I am only just beginning to appreciate the kanga’s versatility.

Going bananas

Around my neck of the woods, there aren't too many lunch options. In fact, many of my lunch options begin and end with ugali. Ugali is a kind of stiff porridge made by boiling water and flour. The flour is usually made from maize, sorghum or cassava. Ugali is normally served with a beef stew or a whole fish that has been deep fried. I am not a huge fan of ugali, as it has a certain rock-like quality once it is in your stomach. It also has little nutritional content.

Around week 4, I discovered mishkaki (grilled meat cubes) and ndezi (grilled banana) and I've been hooked ever since. In Tanzania, there are the normal, slightly sweeter bananas, which can be eaten raw or grilled, and then there are plantains. Plantains are cooking bananas, which are used to make banana stew, matoke (mashed up bananas that are akin to mashed potatoes) and chips.

Give me an H, give me an I, give me a V, HIV

The issue of HIV/AIDS has been on my mind lately because of a few incidents that occurred in January. In early January, two friends of mine took a long distance bus to another part of Tanzania. The bus left later than scheduled and they ended up traveling after dark. The bus ran into a timber-filled truck that was stopped in the middle of their traveling lane and was not marked with any reflectors. 30 people died. My friends were very lucky to walk away with cuts and bruises. However, there was a lot of blood. My friends are now taking anti-retroviral prophylaxis. Similarly, someone was carjacked and was cut with a knife that had blood on it. He too is now taking anti-retroviral prophylaxis. Both sets of people are taking ARVs out of an abundance of caution, but it reminds me that HIV/AIDS is something that needs to be taken into consideration.

In Tanzania, the prevalence of HIV/AIDS is estimated to be 6.2% or, differently stated, 1.4 million people. This prevalence rate is relatively low in comparison to countries like Botswana, which has a prevalence rate of 23.9%, and Swaziland, which has a prevalence rate of 25.9%. However, it is high enough to make it an issue that is fairly high up on the agendas of the government, donors and non-governmental organizations.

There is also a caveat to the statistic regarding the HIV prevalence in Tanzania. It only represents those people who have been tested for HIV/AIDS. In 2007, the Tanzanian government launched of year long voluntary testing and counseling program. It was fairly successful, as 4 million people were tested. However, there are approximately 40 million people in Tanzania. People are reluctant to be tested as there is a significant amount of social stigma associated with a positive result and, from what I’ve heard, the confidentiality of results is not always guaranteed. I think reluctance to get tested is a natural response. In November 2008, I had the opportunity to be tested for HIV. Even though the chances of me being HIV-positive are incredibly slim, I had to take a couple of minutes to think about whether it was something I wanted to do. The testing itself was incredible simply. One pin prick and 20 long, anticipation-filled minutes later, I had my result. As expected, it was negative. For me, getting tested was fairly nerve-wracking and slightly scary. I can’t imagine what it is like for people who run a real risk of being HIV-positive.

In an effort to control and address HIV/AIDS in Tanzania, the government passed the HIV and AIDS (Prevention and Control) Act, 2008 in August 2008. This Act addresses matters such as discrimination, treatment of HIV-positive people, and AIDS orphans. It is a fairly comprehensive act. However, I take issue with some of its provisions, like the provisions that puts a positive obligation on an individual who tests positive for HIV to inform their partner. In addition, a health care provider may disclose an individual's results to that the individual's partner. I get the rationale behind these provisions. However, given the social stigma associated with a positive result, the risk of violence against an HIV-positive person and the power imbalance between men and women, I wonder if this provision will act as a disincentive to being tested. After all, if you don’t know your status, then you don’t have the obligation to disclose anything. Of course, you also don't get treatment and may not take any steps to prevent the transmission of HIV.

This is Dar

Life has got mildly busy in Dar, as I am trying to wrap up my internship and complete the human rights report. Having said that, I spent some time taking pictures of Dar. These photos can be accessed through the "This is Dar" link under the Pictures heading.

A day at the beach

On Sunday, Cristiano, Eveline - our neighbour - and I headed out for a day at the beach. Getting to the beach can be a little bit of a procedure. Being a port city, Dar has a number of its own beaches. However, it is not recommended that you visit these beaches for safety and health reasons, as people occasionally get robbed or worse on these beaches and there is all sorts of fun stuff that washes down from the city into the sea. Coco beach, which is on the Msasani Peninsula, is the exception to the rule, as it fills up with people on a Sunday afternoon who try their luck at the various games set out on the beach and enjoy a drink or some seafood at the local, beachside restuarant. However, Coco Beach is not that forward thinking and it would be inappropriate to wear a bikini and sunbathe on Coco Beach. The end result of my long explanation is that we have to travel a little further afield for the tropical paradise beach with beautifully clear, warm water. In our case, we travelled to Kipepeo Beach.


A trip to Kipepeo Beach from the Msasani Peninsula involves a walk, three dalladallas and a short ferry ride. Of course, the trip can be abbreviated by taking a taxi. It was incredibly relaxing to spend the day on the beach, reading a good book and swimming in the sea. The sea is delightfully warm, which is in sharp contrast to swimming in Cape Town (or Vancouver for that matter) where it requires bravery and a bit of foolhardiness to enter the water on anything but the hottest days. And then there was the camel.

And in the news

In November 2008, I read the following statement made by the Tanzanian Deputy Minister of Education and Vocational training, Mwantumu Mahiza, about sexual violence against schoolgirls:

"sexual violence in schools is mostly fuelled by schoolgirls themselves who are easily lured by lucrative offers such as French fries and expensive cell phones".

I just came across the newspaper article again and I thought would share her statement with you.

A few of my favourite (and not so favourite) things

After almost three weeks of being out and about, I feel a little bit discombobulated being back in Dar. All the Swahili I had learnt had been swept clean from my mind and I had forgotten about the joys of not having running water. I also became very aware that the clock is ticking down on my time in Dar. Somewhat amazingly, I only have 6 weeks left here. When we arrived last August, it seemed like we were here for an impossibly long time. As my thoughts start to turn homeward, I find myself also thinking about the things that I found to be the best and the worst aspects of living in Dar. In no particular order, here are my five top picks for both categories.

The best of the best

1. The people. Generally, I have found people to be incredibly friendly and helpful. For instance, the other day I was trying to get through the unseemly crush of people that besets the door of the dalladalla the minute it reaches its final destination. I was having a hard time getting off. This tiny, Tanzanian woman came to my rescue. She pushed people out of the way and then pulled me through the crowd before walking off with a smile and a wave. It made my day. I have found that this lady is representative of the approach to life taken by most Tanzanians.

2. The food. I have an unswerving love of chapattis, which make a great breakfast. Also up there are the various fried goodies, like egg chop (a boiled egg coated in .5” mince meat and deep fried), that are available from the ubiquitous Indian tea shops scattered throughout downtown Dar. And then there’s the meat, the fish and the fruit...

3. The other people. The other people refers to our wazungu friends. The other young, ex-pats who are hoping to do something in Tanzania and want to have fun in the process. Cristiano and I have been extremely lucky to meet a great bunch of people who will lend us a cup of sugar, a smile or a shoulder to cry on depending on the situation. I’m cutting myself off there before I get too soppy.

4. The beach. I know, it is kind of shallow choice, but how can I not mention it. The beaches here have all pretty much been of the tropical paradise variety. It doesn't hurt that we are a skip and a jump away from Zanzibar.

5. Maggie, our maid. I suspect this is not a particularly politically correct choice, but nonetheless. The original motivation for hiring Maggie was laundry. We do not have access to a washing machine and the prospect of doing hand washing for seven months was a powerful incentive. Maggie is great. She keeps everything in ship-shape order and shows us how to cope when things go awry, like when there is no water. We have been spoilt by Maggie who has made it infinitely easier to live in and adapt to Dar.

...and the rest

1. The lack of running water. I find the somewhat unpredictable lapses in running water and electricity incredibly frustrating. As there is always the expectation that the amenity will return shortly, we don’t have the infrastructure, like gas stoves and big containers for water, to deal with long term lapses. Having said that, after the water issues of December and January, we have started to store larger quantities of water in the house.

2. The heat. It is hot in Dar, like 40 degrees hot. We are lucky we arrived in Dar at the tail end of winter, as it gave our bodies a fighting chance to adapt to the heat. From August to November, I embraced the heat and the perfectly sunny days. However, in December and January, the height of summer, the heat has become oppressive. When I wake up in the morning, I am sweating and this sets the precedent for the day. On the positive side, it has given me the excuse to get a little, white hankie to dab my face. I feel very Tanzanian.

3. The dalladallas. The dalladallas are a blessing and a curse. It is incredibly cheap to get around on dalladallas and they seem to run at all hours. However, the dalladallas invariably look like they have two wheels in the grave and are packed to an almost exploding point with people. There is always room for one more person on a dalladalla.

4. The different work culture. Coming from a large, corporate law firm, I found it challenging at times to adjust to a more laid back environment where time is sometimes frittered away and deadlines aren’t really deadlines. Being an A-type personality, I like to get things done as efficiently as possible. However, in Tanzania, the most efficient way is not always the best way, as it may cause you to miss out important relationship-building opportunities. It took me a while to discover the differences between the Canadian and Tanzanian work cultures, and it took me a little longer after that to figure out how to work with the two different cultures.

5. My laptop being stolen. My laptop being stolen was a bugger and it was not helped by the complete inaction of the police, our landlord, and our security guards.

Going South for the summer

After being a bit of a tourist in Johannesburg, I winged down to Cape Town to become a (temporary) Capetonian. I met my twin sister, Vicky, and her boyfriend, Greg, in Cape Town for a little more R&R and some twin time. Quick correction, Greg’s status was upgraded last week from boyfriend to fiancé. This change in status created frissons of excitement in my family, as Greg is a great guy and Vicky is the first of three daughters to get married. I only wish I could have been in South Africa for a few days longer so that I could share in the celebration. Congratulations!

Cape Town is very Vancouverish with Table Mountain providing a solid backdrop and the sea stretching out in front of you. To be fair, the differences probably end there. Capetonians are extremely fashion forward and there is a never-ending supply of beautiful people. The highlights of our time in Cape Town were a marvelous, catered picnic at the Boschendal wine estate with plenty of wine to boot and tandem paragliding off the Lions.

Paragliding is when you run off a mountain with a parachute and, in my case, a man strapped to your back and you soar on thermals. Paragliding didn’t give me the same adrenalin rush that bungee jumping and parachuting did, rather I felt incredibly peaceful and in awe of my sky-high perspective. I did have a couple of toe-tingling moments when we looped into land, but I don’t think those were adrenalin induced. I think they came from the rumbles in my stomach. Somewhat ironically, Vicky and I got food poisoning in Cape Town. The kind of food poisoning that makes you never want to eat again. Unfortunately, we also got it the night before I was due to fly back to Dar. After a night of no-fun, I tottered onto an overcrowded flight to Dar (via Johannesburg) and tried to hold onto the insides of my stomach. I made it to Johannesburg, but no further. I was whisked away from the airport by my Dad for a couple of bonus days in Johannesburg. In the end, the food poisoning was a blessing in disguise.

The Promised Land

After a couple of hiccups with our train journey, Wes and I got to Lusaka, Zambia and had some quality hanging out time at the airport. The airport had a bar and a stuffed warthog’s head grinning down on us, what more could we need? A quick flight and we made it to the promised land, a.k.a South Africa. After living in rural Tanzania for a year, some American friends of mine keep referring to South Africa as the promised land and it has caught on, or, at least, it has caught on with me.

Arriving in South Africa on December 23 gave us all a quick breather to catch up on the last two years of news, for Wes to meet my Dad and his partner, Bernice, and for us to do a lightening tour of all the important places in Johannesburg, like where I went to primary school. Then we tried to fall into the spirit of Christmas. When I first got to Canada, I had trouble associating Christmas with snow and coldness. Nine years later, I had the opposite problem in South Africa where the 30 degree heat dried up all my Christmas spirit (although it was somewhat revived by a little turkey and champagne).

Over the next ten days, Wes and I had a whirlwind taste of the history, the food and the wildlife of South Africa. As all good lawyers do, we popped into the rather avant garde Constitutional Court of South Africa for a quick look-see at the cow-hide covered bench. We also swiftly learnt that South Africa’s Bill of Rights, which is contained in its Constitution, is one of the very few that guarantees economic and social rights, such as the right to health care, food and water. It will be interesting to see how the court deals with proceedings to enforce these types of rights.

Our next step was the apartheid museum. I had somewhat mixed feelings about the apartheid museum because I wasn’t sure how it would reflect South Africa’s recent past and because I am a white South African. Overall, I would give it two thumbs up, as it has interesting and largely comprehensive multi-media exhibits. However, sometimes, a little more context was needed to get the full flavour of a particular historical event.

After our historical dose, we were off to commune with nature. Our first stop was the Dewildt Cheetah Park, where they breed cheetahs and wild dogs in captivity to bolster the stocks in the wild. Our second stop was the Pilansberg Game Reserve. The highlight of these wildlife endeavors was having a black rhino and her calf saunter within 6 or 7 meters of the car. Our proximity to the rhino gave us a new appreciation for its size – it is HUGE. Rhinos are renowned for their bad temper and their poor eyesight. We were quite careful to not get between mom and her calf.

The last thing on our list was a township tour. Somewhat like the apartheid museum, I felt a little conflicted about going on a township tour and watching someone else’s way of life. However, in the spirit of giving everything a go once, off we went. We went on a tour of Soweto, one of Johannesburg’s largest and oldest townships. Soweto was an interesting mix of middle-class suburbia and shacks that had been cobbled together with tin sheeting. We also had the chance to see a couple of historical sites in Soweto, such as where the Sharpeville massacre took place and a church that was the “parliament of Soweto” during apartheid. Ultimately, I found the township tour a bit boring. I think that by the time we did the tour, we had overdosed on museums and the living conditions of the poorer inhabitants of Soweto are very akin to the living conditions of the folks that I go past every day. In the mornings, my seat on the dalladalla gives me a window into people’s lives as they have a “bowl bath’’ outside their tiny, tin homes that have no power or running water. In the evenings, I see little kids playing in the dust among flattened water bottles and fluttering pieces of plastic bags. I have not become inured to the difficulty of living in these types of conditions, but I have lost the desire to stare at it or to be shocked by it.

Wes and I got around a fair bit, thanks to Wes’ ability to drive a manual. However, being in Johannesburg was about more than being tourists. It was about introducing Wes to South Africa and spending time with my family. I enjoyed the opportunity to be a tourist and a home girl.

Riding the Rails

On December 19, Wes and I excitedly boarded a tuk-tuk and wobbled our way along the edges of standstill traffic from my office to the Tazara train station to catch the once-a-week train to Zambia. Tazara is the name of the rail link between Dar es Salaam, Tanzania and Kipiri Moshi, Zambia (Kapiri Moshi is approximately 200 km away from Lusaka, the capital of Zambia). According to my guidebook, the train trip could take anywhere from 42 to 46 hours. Our plan was to take the train to Kipiri Moshi, find our way to Lusaka and then fly to Johannesburg to spend Christmas with my family.

We arrived at the train station in fine form, only to be told that the train had been delayed by 25 hours. While I had built in a 48-hour buffer between our estimated time of arrival in Kipiri Moshi and our flight to Johannesburg, I hadn’t counted on a 25-hour delay off the bat. 25 hours is a long time. Wes and I trekked back into Dar, bags and all, and adjusted our flight arrangements accordingly. On a positive note, the delay meant that we got to hang out with Prasanna (the CBA intern placed in Addis Abba) for the evening and to compare our experiences over a couple of bottles of beer.

The next day, we taxied our way back to the train station only to have a deja vue moment when the ticket agent told us the train was delayed by a further 5 hours so it would be leaving at 8 p.m that evening. This caused a bit of head shaking and muttering about public transportation on my part. Thankfully, there was a first class lounge in which to spin away the hours and an alternative transportation plan if things really went south, like if the train didn’t show up. Outside the first class lounge, the 300 or so people who would be travelling in second and third class sat behind a small sign that dictated that people line up in neat rows while waiting for the train. My guess is that people were willing to sit in these lines for 6 or more hours because they would then be the first on the train and the first to select the good seats.

True to their word, the train showed up 7 p.m. and the station gates were opened for boarding an hour after the train arrived. Boarding was controlled chaos that was managed by two khaki-clad men, who I took to be policemen. These men measured the flow of people through the station gate with a short stick, the butt of a gun and loud voices. One guy who went against the flow was rewarded with a swift whack to the head with the butt of the gun. After seeing that, I wasn’t too keen to be within range of the policemen. Without the policemen’s presence, I think people would have stampeded the train. However, the casual manner with which force was employed was a little unexpected and rather off putting.

Once on the train, Wes and I took stock of the first class cabin that had been reserved for Miss Louw and family. We had to book the entire cabin, as there is a prohibition against men and women sharing a cabin in any other circumstances (booking the cabin cost approx. $275 Cdn). The cabin had four berths, blankets and pillows, a little table and a window to the outside world. We were pleasantly surprised to find that the train also had a basic shower, a bar cart, and a food cart with decent food at very decent prices. The only hiccup with the food cart is that you have to pay with the currency of the country in which the train is travelling, so shillings in Tanzania and kwacha once you cross the border into Zambia. We found it next to impossible to buy kwacha in Dar and we had high hopes of doing some money exchange at the border (which we successfully did). 29 hours after the anticipated departure time, the train set off with a lurch and the comforting click-clack of the railway ties.

The train wound its way through subsistence farms, tiny railway stations and excited, waving hands. At each train station, bags of rice, baskets of mangoes and starched fish were hoisted to our window for our inspection. In a memorable moment, Wes did a half-duck dive out of the window as he tried to reach the mangoes proffered to him by a small, Zambian girl. Once Wes had grabbed a couple of mangoes, the little girl’s legs took off and we had to call her back to pay her. I think she was still mastering the principles of selling. At most of the stations, little children stared into our cabin with curiosity. Sometimes, these little children would look at us with entreating eyes and open palms, or they would repeatedly ask for pens, bottles and soap. I found the level of poverty and these semi-constant requests somewhat depressing.

After 55 hours on the train, we glided into Kipiri Moshi at the rather ungodly hour of 2 a.m. Overall, the train journey was fantastic and incredibly relaxing. It was rather startling to have to get off the train and face reality. Reality at Kipiri Moshi was bedding down for the night in a cavernous train station with a few hundred other people. Wes and I spent the night hugging our bags, as we tried to find a comfortable spot on an emaciated couch. We were up with the birds and away from the train station at 5:30 a.m. to search for the mythical bus to Lusaka. After waiting at the rather informal Kipiri Moshi bus station for 4 hours and watching over-packed "big buses" roar their way to Lusaka, Wes and I went against the general advice to take a "big bus" and boarded a "little bus". The little bus was a little slower, a little fuller and a little cheaper (35,000 kwacha), but it got us to Lusaka.