What do a live chicken, an annotated diagram of the human body and a recorder have in common?
Answer: They’re all something that you might be offered, for an admittedly excellent price, while on the roads in Tanzania.
This time last week we were on a shuttle bus from Nairobi to Arusha. Since then, we’ve covered around 1000km in seven days. Those miles (or kilometres) have been covered via shuttle bus, taxi, coach and ferry.
Our first border crossing was expectedly eventful. We arrived at the border with a few pounds’ worth of Kenyan currency and our visas on our phones. I would strongly advise those passing through to print off their visas and carry at least $50 as well as Tanzanian shillings. Our Kenyan SIMs were worthless and we were told, rather aggressively, that our visa documentation must be printed. This resulted in a last-minute dash to the nearest printing service and an extortionate charge for printing just two sheets of paper.
Upon arrival in Arusha, we were quickly whisked away by a taxi driver accompanied by his English-speaking friend. He was confident that we hd plenty of money to pay him - just 20,000 Tanzanian shillings withdrawn at the border. This is the equivalent to about £6. Not long after we set off, it became apparent that he did not, in fact, know where he was going. What he assumed was a five-minute quickie was in fact a half-hour slog through rush hour traffic. He became increasingly irate as both myself and his translator friend attempted to calm him down. After trying to assist with directions, it also seemed clear that he didn’t know his left from his right. This is most unhelpful when pursuing a career as a taxi driver.
After some tutting, Swahili swearing and a couple of bangs of the steering wheel, he pulled over, turned off the engine and unclipped his seatbelt. He appealed to his associate to ask for more money. I tried to stand firm on the agreed-upon price, but my resistance was futile against his childish protest. We had no money and no Tanzanian SIM. We couldn’t access the internet and the area was totally unfamiliar. The ball was in his court. He asked for 50,000 shillings (£15) and we settled on 40 (£12).
It may not seem so, but this was one of the biggest rip-offs of our trip so far. After this, we never paid more than 1,000 shillings each (30p) for a Tuk-Tuk into town.
Eventually, we arrived at our hostel, Home Villa. It was an oasis in the middle of a quiet village, just off Muriet Road. There were plenty of friendly children and sour-faced mothers. Most women in Kenya stared at Ellie before smiling on approach, but women in Tanzania look at her as if she were having an affair with their husband. It’s easy for me to brush it off with a joke, but combined with the looks of unashamed lust she receives from most men here, I can see why she finds it exhausting.
We were in Arusha for four nights. On Sunday, we visited Lake Duluti, where we enjoyed a meal aboard a canoe and saw monkeys, three types of Kingfisher and an African Fish Eagle. We also saw a bird whose nest can reach 100kg, with three compartments and an emergency escape in case of encroachment by predators. Pretty impressive if you ask me.
On Tuesday, we woke up early for our trip to Moshi. Now, it doesn’t take long to get there, but our host had planned the day out for us, as we wanted to do a couple of excursions on the way. There were some hot springs that looked inviting, as well as a coffee tour and waterfall hike in Kilimanjaro. He arranged for our driver to pick us up at 05:30, which seemed criminally early, considering the hot springs were less than two hours away.
We were right.
After an hour in the pitch black along normal roads, we then drove along a horrendously bumpy ‘road’ for 45 minutes. We arrived at the hot springs at 07:40, some twenty minutes before it even opened. They let us in early and we had the place to ourselves, which sounds amazing. But in reality, we had an audience of three for the whole time. The Springs were astoundingly beautiful, though. Plunging to depths of 25 metres, the floor of the springs almost appeared illusion-like, tempting you to reach out and touch the bottom.
The Springs were also filled with huge doctor fish, who took great delight in chewing at our feet and legs. They were quite a novelty until I realised they’d chewed through the scab on my knee and continued nibbling right into the flesh. Despite this, we had a lovely time, but felt quite hungry and fatigued after about an hour and a half. It was still just 09:10.
Our time in Kilimanjaro was probably our most magical experience in the six months we’ve been travelling. We spent the afternoon with the last clan before the national park began, some 1,600m up the side of Kilimanjaro mountain itself. It was cloudy, so despite being on Kilimanjaro, we never saw its peak. We made coffee with them, bought some at an eye-watering price and then walked to Materuni Waterfall, which is formed from the snow that melts around the peak.
The bus from Moshi to Dar Es Salaam was the worst bus journey of my life so far. The combination of big-dipper-speed-bumps, stopping at every minor village en-route and the low-budget Tanzanian TV series that we were forced to watch and listen to against our wishes was enough to drive a madman sane.
One of the most fascinating things about these bus journeys is the guys who sell refreshments on the roadside. The bus pulls in and they wave their wares at the windows, with passengers exchanging cash of biscuits or nuts through the tiny slots at the top. The bus often pulled away with men chasing after it, passing change to grasping fingers dangling from the window like bait on a line.
Twelve hours after leaving our hostel, we arrived in the capital. The last thing I wanted to do at this point was run around an unknown city in the dark, but I’d told myself that I must run daily, so run I did.
As I write this from the peace and quiet of Paje, Zanzibar, the chaos feels like a restless dream. Not a nightmare, but one of those absurd dreams where somebody offers you a live chicken, an annotated diagram of the human body and a recorder. You have no idea what any of it means.