Arrival In Tanzania 15.10.2010

I have just returned from my first visit to Tanzania since I left in May 1966, over 44 years ago. I wrote about my first magical 16 years, growing up in Geita near Lake Victoria, in my book, “Speak Swahili, Dammit!” 
(youtube video http://www.youtube.com/speakswahilidammit, or 
book website http://www.SpeakSwahiliDammit.com), and now I returned to the land of my childhood. It was something I had longed to do for decades, yet life, my busy medical profession in South Africa, New Zealand and then Britain, children and their education, and a profusion of problems, or things which “had to be done”, always got in the way. Yet, after all this time, I had not lost my Swahili language, my constant urge to speak it, or the fact that most of my thoughts, and nearly all of my dreams, were still in Swahili. One day I came across a saying which seemed to have been written with me in mind. The author, Antonio Texeira D’Souza, a 20th Century Portuguese doctor & politician, wrote “All through my life, there has been a never-ending list of tasks to perform, or problems to solve, before I could consider the pursuit of what I really wanted in my life. Too late, I came to realise those endless tasks or problems, are my life!”

With our 3 children grown up and established in their careers, or well on the way in the case of the youngest, my lovely wife of 37 years (who has encouraged me for the most unselfish of reasons) and I decided to sweep away all remaining tasks or problems, and finally go to Tanzania. So we went. This brings me back to the beginning. We returned from the trip 2 days ago. I am overcome with mixed emotions.

On the flight over northwestern Tanzania we saw dry tundra, and occasional patches of forest. Then we flew over Mount Kilimanjaro. This was my first shock. There was hardly any snow on it at all. A tiny blimp of white on the top at one side only, that looked as small as a thumbnail from 35,000 feet. There it stood, emerging above the cumulonimbus cloud, the great mountain, granite-grey and stark, like a huge volcano on a planet without an atmosphere. If that’s climate change, it’s worse, far worse than I imagined! Very little snow.

It was more than wonderful to see the familiar land approaching as our plane descended towards Dar es Salaam in the early morning after a flight from Heathrow. When we stepped out into the sunshine and warmth, and I re-experienced the mixture of tropical smells I remembered so well, I thought I was in yet another homesick dream. The traffic (and driving styles) from the airport to our hotel at Jangwani Beach was heavy, unpredictable and entertaining, but nothing you wouldn’t expect in any city with the rapid population growth Dar has undergone in recent years. The industrious and creative spirit of the watu is everywhere to be seen, with finely crafted furniture, fabrics, ornaments, raw and processed timber, dried fish, electrical goods, toys, fruit, including wonderful pawpaws, mangoes, bananas, oranges & coconuts, vegetables of every type, and even livestock, being sold in makeshift stalls, or in the open, at almost any available roadside space. In between these are myriad car or bicycle repair shops in crumbling premises, corrugated iron and wood stores, many with plastic chairs and tables outside for customers, selling iced cold-drinks, and the ubiquitous Kilimanjaro or Tusker (Hakuna Beer Bora Kuliko!” – “There isn’t a beer better than!”) beers. It was delightful to see that the same old joie de vivre, or happiness with life, plus irrepressible sense of humour I remember so well, is undiminished among the watu, despite the obvious and grinding poverty of many.

I was thrilled and delighted that, from the outset after landing, I understood everything said to me in Swahili, and that the response I got for replying in kind was of equal delight. Here and there are impressive new glass-fronted, or otherwise modern-looking, buildings, built, our driver told us (in Swahili), by this or that organization or bank, by the government or international aid agency, or as a new five star hotel. But apart from that, and the obvious great growth in population, the mood, or essence, the smells and feelings, and the unrivalled sense of kind and warm humanity which Dar generates, was unchanged, to me, after all the 44 years I had been away.

Our hotel, the White Sands, stands right on a splendid, open Indian Ocean beach. Starved of sun and warm sea for so long in Europe, we plunged into the almost tepid, yet still refreshing, blue water like children, soaking up the visceral pleasure of our senses. We ate, drank ice-cold drinks brought by smiling, joking waiters, lay in the sun, and swam again and again. A good mSwahili friend who I’d met on the internet visited us, and acted as a perfect host and guide. He took us to see a living museum of lifestyles and housing of the many tribes who inhabit Tanzania, and many other sights, explaining everything in eloquent Swahili, while gently, and kindly, correcting me when I mispronounced or mis-used a word.

Ingrid, unphased, as ever unselfish, and delighted to see me enjoying myself so much, had to be satisfied with occasional and brief English explanations! But she soon picked up some important words. Like “Embe, machungwa, chaai, nyumba”, and “asante sana!” Our friend spent most of 3 days answering our many questions. Too soon, our 4 days in Dar were over, and it was time to catch our flight to Mwanza on Lake Victoria. After all, it was on Lake Victoria I grew up, not in Dar es Salaam. I was not prepared for what I would find in Mwanza, or on Lake Victoria.