Erin: Our trip to Bukoba (written Wed 11/3/09)

Outside it is dark, and yet my computer seems to be stuck in New York; saying its 12:46 PM. There are crickets chirping high pitched and fast, and a lone songbird, that sounds nothing like the ventilator monitors in the ICU that sung me to sleep last July. I send to you this first entry, typed underneath my mosquito net in the evening of my third day in Tanzania.

Steen and I arrived from New York near midnight on Monday. Exhausted from our day of travel, we found the ICAP driver, Manuel (who turned out to be quite the character), waiting for us to take us to the hotel. We passed thru the black empty streets of Dar Es Salaam, passing the occasional billboard for Vodacom cellphone minutes or Black Panther cologne, a few fellow drivers, darkened ware-houses followed by taller city buldings. All the sudden, the quiet is broken by a voice over a loudspeaker, and as we round the corner we pass a brightly lit field filled with men on their knees. Manuel tells us that the people we pass will be praying all night, and tomorrow most businesses will be closed for the holiday.

On Wednesday, we fly out of Dar to Mwanza, and then take a charter plane to our final destination, Bukoba. Returning back to the airport was a different experience than when we arrived. The streets were filled with traffic, cars creating an extra lane on the shoulder when the procession became backed up. We passed cramped mini-buses, women walking in bright dresses and wraps, and men swinging machetes that were curved at the ends, skillfully to cutting the grass with their other arm tucked behind their back. We had spent the morning rushing to find a bank that would exchange traveler’s checks and our cool driver Manuel was starting to look a little worried about making our flight. Yesterday all the banks had been closed, and the private foreign exchange had quoted us a horrible rate. Unfortunately the ICAP office was also closed, so we did not meet most of our colleagues in the Dar office, and the orientation they had told us about never occurred.

Luckily we caught our flight, and were able to see Tanzania from the air for the first time. Flying over Dar es Salaam last night had been nothing like flying into New York, or Mexico City, or any other city you could think of. There were hardly any lights, and no tall buildings of any sort. In the day, it seemed equally different. Trees growing in the courtyards and on the streets towered over the buildings and made Dar seem to be a very green city. The green and the hills of Dar gave way to brown plains near Mwanza, and finally to the pebbly red earth of the Bukoba landing strip. We had finally arrived at our destination.