In Africa

II

Dar es Salaam - city center – the port – fishermen and the fish market – the tale of two cities - being followed

It is the largest city in Tanzania. The Capitol. Well, it was the capitol until 1974 when the capitol was moved to the more centrally located city of Dodoma. The government bureaucracy still remains in Dar es Salaam, as do all Ministries but one. The embassies are all located in Dar es Salaam, most in the city center.  The Parliament meets in Dodoma, but for all practical purposes, the Capitol is Dar es Salaam. Although only the de facto center of government, Dar es Salaam is undisputedly the financial and economic center of Tanzania.  The skyline of the city is blooming with new construction. Steel, glass and concrete rise into the sky in an ever-changing array of offices, stores and apartments. Green shrouded columns resemble buds of flowers soon to bloom when the protective green mesh peels off to expose yet another blossom in the bouquet that is the modern city center of Dar.

Dar e Salaam skyline

Green netting protects pedestrians from construction debris

New construction is everywhere

Modern Dar es Salaam stretches out in all directions away from the sea to cover a large geographic area which incudes the Msasani Peninsula where we live in the north. The city center is situated on a point of land formed by the Indian Ocean and the well-protected harbor. Along the crescent shaped inner harbor, much of the colonial appearance of Dar remains; several older government office buildings, the High Court, the Court of Appeals, Azania Front Lutheran Church, St. Joseph Cathedral and the Ferry Terminal. Behind this quaint front, the high-rises jut up from the crowded constricted streets of the central business district and government center. Sidewalks, where they exist, are used more for parking than pedestrian traffic, cars and busses crowd the narrow streets making movement by any means during business hours a challenge. If you are a stranger to the city, there are just enough twists and turns in the street layout to create confusion amid chaos. And when it rains, during the rainy season, streets flood; traffic grinds to a snarled halt taking hours to move a mere few blocks. The new construction continues nonetheless, bringing more and more workers into the center of the already teeming city. Little thought is given to the creation of public transportation beyond the meager effort of creating a bus lane in the median of the Morogoro Road; an on-going project adding to the traffic turmoil that causes taxi drivers to increase their rates during peak hours. “Jam,” is the word they use; a word that describes more than just the traffic in city center Dar es Salaam. 

Traffic circles help to control traffic on the busy streets

Art in traffic circles adds a bit of civility to turmoil

Dar is a port city. Ships can be seen in the Indian Ocean off the coast swinging on anchors for as long two weeks waiting a berth in the inadequate facilities of the port. I count twenty, then thirty. They stretch as far as the eye can see in the waters off the harbor. A new Maritime Control Tower rises above the city near the mouth of the harbor. Although a sharp contrast to the colonial waterfront, it speaks of an efficiency that the port just beyond it has yet to obtain. In a region prone to periodic upheaval, Tanzania’s stability offers an opportunity for the Port of Dar es Salaam to be a primary shipping hub for all of East Africa. As we look out onto the assemblage of bobbing ships, rising and falling with the daily tides off the Msasani Peninsula, we wonder if out small shipment of household goods from the US is there among the throng, and if so when it will find its place in the harbor.

The harbor

Ships loading and unloading

The Maritime Control Tower at the harbor's edge

Ships laying at anchor waiting entry into the port

Ships at anchor

Fishing boats by the fish market at the harbor entrance

The white sails of the dhows dot the Indian Ocean to the edge of the great sea at the horizon. Interspersed among the sails are smaller darker images of the dugout canoes, some with out rigged amas to one or both sides. The vessels are time honored and a part of the Tanzanian culture along the coast. They are sailed by fishermen and they leave from the beaches at Bagamoya, at Msasani from the beach in front of our house, and from the harbor at Dar es Salaam. The largest fleet is found near the fish market in city center Dar es Salaam just below the State House and next to the Tanganyika Swimming Club. Because of the size of the downtown fish market, the larger boats sail from this place. They use nets and lines and hooks. The larger boats have crews that appear to threaten capsize but are necessary to handle nets. The larger boats are powered by motors and work more efficiently. Smaller boats sometimes have a sole fisherman and are paddled or poled. The fish market in city center Dar is a large and busy place. Fresh fish, prawns and lobster are the prize waiting for those with patience and resolve.

Dhows and dugouts, an everyday sight on the Ocean

Dhows waiting for the tide or perhaps a repair

Fish Market Dar es Salaam

Swimming Club next door to the market

Tanganyika Swimming Club - fishermen on the beach 

Part of the day's catch

Fresh fish

Fishermen working

Dar is a city of contrast as many developing cities are. The old meets new and poverty meets wealth. Rural migration to the metropolitan areas, particularly Dar es Salaam, is endemic even today in Tanzania. Those who have an education can survive, sometimes quite nicely. Those with little education are relegated to working at whatever menial jobs are available. This is not a new phenomenon in the world, but rather the inevitable consequence of the industrial revolution of over 100 years ago. Contrasting economic conditions create an environment ripe for thieves. Dar es Salaam is not exempt. Purse (and bag, backpack, briefcase, etc.) snatchings in Dar have risen to a new level of horror. There are a few walking snatchers, but the new and deadly trend in Dar es Salaam, especially in areas frequented by foreigners, is to drive by in a vehicle and grab a bag. If the owner does not let go, or, as in the case of the Greek Doctor, it is a backpack that will not come free, the person is dragged until the bag is finally commandeered. The Greek doctor lost her life in the process. Then there are the taxi rides taken to ATMs until the passenger’s card no longer produces funds. Dar, not unlike many large cities, is a place where caution and common sense pay large dividends. Naivety, unreasonable trust, and over confidence can result in horrific consequences.

Old Dar on the water

The old fronts the new

It is in this background that I was looking for a moneychanger one Sunday in the center of the city. I knew as a Mzungu (white person) I was easily identified but I was quickly reminded by a couple of unwanted offers of assistance, that I was also being watched. Not just watched in terms of where I was going, but what I was looking at, and therefore – for. But I could not have foreseen what happened on my way back to my hotel.

A man handing out cards for safari tours approached me. He had stylish glasses and wore a sports coat but was not well dressed. His appearance did give him a look of intelligence and education if not means. This was not an unusual event and as I often do with such offers, I took his card, thanked him, and kept walking. After about a block, still carrying the card in my hand, I dropped it. I bent to pick it up and put it into my pocket. As I stood, the man who handed me the card was there and asked for the card back. I said I was going to put it into my pocket but obliged him and handed it back. I then proceeded on my way. I turned a corner and looked over my shoulder. He was still following me. I stopped and confronted him. I asked what he wanted. He asked where I was going. I said I was going back. I did not want him to know where I was staying. He said where. I did not answer but asked him to stop following me. I proceeded. He did as well. I went into a super market on the next block and bought a bottle of water. When I exited, he was behind me again. I stopped at a place where a man was washing a car. I told the man that the guy across the street was following me. The man went across to speak to the stalker. I then turned a corner and doubled back on my track. As I entered a bookstore I noted that he was across the street. He stood there for a few minutes. I pointed him out to the clerks and told them that he was following me. They dialed a number I presumed was the police but I have no way of knowing. He then proceeded to cross the street and come into the bookstore. He browsed, as did I. I had been in the store before and knew it had a connecting inside door to a fast food court that was on a corner and in fact wrapped around the corner so that the food court opened onto two streets; the main street and a side street. The clerks engaged the stalker in conversation. When I thought that he was at least somewhat occupied by the clerks, I quickly moved through the door into the food court and followed it around to an exit on the side street where I knew there was a taxi stand. I hailed a driver and we proceeded to my hotel. I have not seen the man since.

Until Next Connection, Dan

In Africa

Arrival ; The new Adventure Begins

I changed planes in Amsterdam to catch the KLM flight to Kilimanjaro and Dar es Salaam in Tanzania, the latter my final destination. The flight was long; eight or nine hours, with a stop at Kilimanjaro, then on, after an hour lay-over to deplane and reload passengers, another forty minutes to Dar es Salaam. It required only a quick look at the obvious make-up and dress of the passengers to determine that they were not locals but primarily western tourists who would be getting off in Kilimanjaro for trips to Lake Victoria, the Serengeti and the grand mountain itself; Kilimanjaro.

Dar Es Salaam

In Kilimanjaro, the plane nearly emptied, then refilled with those who would stay aboard while we got off in Dar es Salaam. The plane makes a daily round trip from Amsterdam to Tanzania. Finally after two days of travel, the plane floated down and onto the runway at Dar es Salaam. It was already late and dark. Nothing to be seen. I followed the jet way to the stairs, then down and around bland hallways to the ubiquitous passport control hall of a typical developing world airport. Passport control is never much fun, with the long lines and impatient travelers, but the developing world always offers a less opulent environment for the process. Dull, drab, in need of paint or at least a good cleaning; I recognized this place though I have never been to Tanzania.

Downtown Dar es Salaam

The process was typically almost trouble free but not anything that patience and careful, albeit repeated, explanation couldn’t resolve. I always over-pack and this was no exception. I inevitably regret it when I wrestle the luggage from the belt. Customs was totally uneventful and as the frosted glass doors parted I found myself facing the row of agents two-deep behind the half-wall partition, each holding a paper or cardboard sign with a name on it. Having arranged a driver beforehand, I carefully studied the anxious faces, well actually their signs, until I found one with my name on it.

We greeted each other. Clement already knew where I was going. The drive was not long. “Have you ever been to Tanzania before?”

“No.”

“First time in Africa?”

“Yes, except for a one day trip to Morocco.” My mind paused to recall that one and only trip to the continent. It was a one day trip from Gibraltar to Tangier. Ferry over; tour of the city by bus; stop at the Kasbah to shop and have lunch, then and back on the ferry. That was so many years ago.

We pulled under the portico of the hotel. It was late, I was tired. I checked in, found my room, and, although my body was on some other time left far behind by jet speed travel, I went immediately to sleep.

Weaver birds nests in front of the portico at the Southern Sun Hotel

My meeting Monday was in the afternoon, allowing me to rest without worrying about early morning business things. I rose relatively early, all things considered, and after getting breakfast and acclimating, I decided a stroll to the nearest supermarket would give me a flavor for the local environment. The flora reminded me of home in Florida; mangos, bananas, papayas, citrus, coconut palms, traveler palms, areca palms, queen palms, silver palms, buccaneer palms, royal Poinciana, plumeria (frangipani), and bougainvillea – lots and lots of bougainvillea. Not seven degrees below the equator, the tropical flavor was to be expected. In other respects, the place reminded me a bit of Bangladesh, but the differences are striking – traffic here is horrid but not as bad a Dhaka, no rickshaws in Dar es Salaam, - even on a short walk it was clear I was in Africa, a place I have never been. And so a new adventure had begun.

Downtown Dar es Salaam

That was in October and my initial experiences, as always, created an impression and image of this place that would become my home for three years. That image, and that impression, have not changed with the intervening time, they have only been enriched.  As we meet new friends, local and expat, as we begin to find our way from place to place, as we learn more words in the local language - Swahili, as we see more things, eat more food, visit more shops, listen to more advice, explanations and stories, we become further embedded in this culture of which before now we had only read.

Peacocks roam freely in the downtown area, especially in the diplomatic/government areas. This one is on the fence seperating the Southern Sun Hotel from the Botnical Garden

Buried in the history of Africa are the very origins of man and his evolution to who we are today. Wandering through the dusty streets of the largest city in Tanzania, Dar es Salaam, none of that is apparent. What is apparent are the remnants of a colonial past dating to the turn of the nineteenth century. Ten years after Doctor Livingstone visited this country, found the wrong lake and was presumed lost forever, Tanganyika became a German colony. After forty years, including twenty years of wars with African tribes, the country was taken from the Germans and given to the British after World War I. The romantic in us wants to believe that Bogie and Hepburn on the African Queen in the epic movie of the same name had something to do with that transition. It is the British influence, however, that dominates the architecture, language, and adopted culture of the city.

Azania Front Lutheran Church in Downtown Dar es Salaam

In Dar es Salaam, the past, even as short as it is, is tucked around the feet of the large steel, concrete, and glass structures growing rapidly across the skyline. It is a small part old, a large part new, like many of the world’s major cities. Swirling around and through the streets of Dar es Salaam with its colonial influence and modern ambitions are the remnants and reminders of an Africa of our visions, of the television and movies, an Africa that we struggle to pull up from the dust of an existence that belies all that the modern world is. The streets have few sidewalks and the dirt paths along them turn to mud in the rains and dust in the heat, not unlike the great savanna to the west of the city. Among the suits and ties of a modern business center, a woman in a sarong walks with a basket adroitly balanced on her head. One does not have to look far to see poverty, and an excursion outside of the city will expose an Africa that Dr. Livingstone saw on his arrival.

Woman carrying her wares along busy downtown street

But Dar is where I find myself for the coming weeks and months. It is a learning experience. Sometimes a bit disconcerting, but always intriguing as new visions, new people and a new culture begin to unfold before our eyes then subtly and inescapably envelop us.

Until the next connection, Dan