Heri za Mwaka Mpya! My mother informs me that each time one of these posts is delayed or I skip a few days, readers from Asia to America ask her why I haven't updated recently. Well, I've been taking a few days to revel in the holiday season, and since I generally write this at work in quiet times I haven't had the chance to update. What can I say, you people are just gonna have to wait.
But anyway, fresh sunny Monday, the first of 2012 and a hot coffee in hand. Forgive me if this post is more Lonely Planet than the John Grisham or Mario Puzo you might be used to, as I finally took the opportunity to do the tourist thing and have a look around this beautiful country. Christmas involved a trip to the Selous Game Reserve, a vast wildlife-filled wilderness a few hours south-west of Dar. A 90 kilometre dirt road took us to the entrance through picture-postcard mud villages, complete with laughing children running after my car in the sunset light. A particularly unfortunate village had a memorial sign commemorating the 40-odd people that had been taken by man-eating lions: welcome to the Selous! Along with my friend who runs safaris, we were the guests of his old schoolmates the manager couple of Selous River Camp, a small but perfectly formed establishment on the banks of the Rufiji River. Katie, perhaps missing her distant Kent as I missed Surrey (a phrase I'm not used to uttering and am unlikely to do again, at least until next December), made sure we had a Christmas tree: a randomly chosen tree festooned with baubles and with presents underneath. The staff were decked out in Santa hats, and turkey, minced pies and Christmas pudding were on the menu. So we had Christmas dinner there, on the swelling mud river with hippos looking on, preceded by a game drive rich in giraffes, wildebeest and local brandy - we took my car, of which I'm very proud for its seemless adaptation from bank commute to bouncing around with buffalos. Selous offered up its best treats, perhaps in respect of the season: wild dogs, impalas and kudus came to play. There are only 5,000 of the former left in the wild, so as the news of them spread between drivers there were soon six cars surrounding the five dogs, who took it in their stride and sat panting in the shade. A similar scene played out running into one of the rare lion prides, who were mostly not bothered to open their eyes as the cars flocked around them. In my photos they look tame and well-behaved, resting in midday heat and uninterested in the inedible-looking metal boxes growling and smoking around them. Had anyone tried to leave their boxes however, a different kind of Christmas lunch might have taken place, as I'm sure we're every bit as tasty as an overstuffed flightless bird. The brandy-fuelled drive left us rolling into camp for dinner very merry indeed, and by the time we retired to the tents to sleep, any wandering lions or elephants that might blunder into the unfenced camp would've been scared off by the snoring (and perhaps my paraffin breath from some impromtu fire breathing).
Two unproductive orphan days of work (reassigned to a recovery team in the central Dar branch), and I was away again to Zanzibar. How the name rolls off the tongue, floating into one's mind a dream of dhow sailboats, waving palms on white sands, turquoise and azure waters. I find it mildly embarrassing to write like this, but only such glutinous and gilded adjectives can possibly sketch the scene of the place, at least at first glance. It is of course no fantasy land (its dark history as East Africa's biggest slave market surely precluding that) but another province of the United Republic of Tanganyika and Zanzibar with six hundred thousand people mostly going about their ordinary lives, albeit around a steady stream of rapt foreigners who pay more than three years of the locals' average income to fly in for a week. Still, the place sees the benefits of tourism in a few ways, being one of the wealthier provinces and providing a number of jobs for young men and women. Some of the men in particular get other fringe benefits from the flocks of white girls looking for their dream vacation. Less attractive and wealthier women often contribute financially for their companionship, forming an interesting counterpart to the scenes at certain bars in Dar, while the more sentimental ladies end up with a boyfriend or even husband, who unsurprisingly does not stop his variety-filled lifestyle when said lady heads back to Europe. So yeah, the advantages of tourism, although I'd imagine the local women of this 95% Muslim province aren't such a fan.
So, four days in Zanzibar, filled with diving (these tropical waters every bit as good as the Andaman Sea), swimming and lazing with some other revelling expat friends, and a new year's party on the beach which formed my bed for the first morning of the year. A great little holiday all told, and the days of safari and beach a perfect refreshment from all that working in the chaos of Dar. I'm definitely making it my mission to get out of town more in the coming months and take advantage of living in this extraordinary country. Hope this year goes most excellently for everyone!
But anyway, fresh sunny Monday, the first of 2012 and a hot coffee in hand. Forgive me if this post is more Lonely Planet than the John Grisham or Mario Puzo you might be used to, as I finally took the opportunity to do the tourist thing and have a look around this beautiful country. Christmas involved a trip to the Selous Game Reserve, a vast wildlife-filled wilderness a few hours south-west of Dar. A 90 kilometre dirt road took us to the entrance through picture-postcard mud villages, complete with laughing children running after my car in the sunset light. A particularly unfortunate village had a memorial sign commemorating the 40-odd people that had been taken by man-eating lions: welcome to the Selous! Along with my friend who runs safaris, we were the guests of his old schoolmates the manager couple of Selous River Camp, a small but perfectly formed establishment on the banks of the Rufiji River. Katie, perhaps missing her distant Kent as I missed Surrey (a phrase I'm not used to uttering and am unlikely to do again, at least until next December), made sure we had a Christmas tree: a randomly chosen tree festooned with baubles and with presents underneath. The staff were decked out in Santa hats, and turkey, minced pies and Christmas pudding were on the menu. So we had Christmas dinner there, on the swelling mud river with hippos looking on, preceded by a game drive rich in giraffes, wildebeest and local brandy - we took my car, of which I'm very proud for its seemless adaptation from bank commute to bouncing around with buffalos. Selous offered up its best treats, perhaps in respect of the season: wild dogs, impalas and kudus came to play. There are only 5,000 of the former left in the wild, so as the news of them spread between drivers there were soon six cars surrounding the five dogs, who took it in their stride and sat panting in the shade. A similar scene played out running into one of the rare lion prides, who were mostly not bothered to open their eyes as the cars flocked around them. In my photos they look tame and well-behaved, resting in midday heat and uninterested in the inedible-looking metal boxes growling and smoking around them. Had anyone tried to leave their boxes however, a different kind of Christmas lunch might have taken place, as I'm sure we're every bit as tasty as an overstuffed flightless bird. The brandy-fuelled drive left us rolling into camp for dinner very merry indeed, and by the time we retired to the tents to sleep, any wandering lions or elephants that might blunder into the unfenced camp would've been scared off by the snoring (and perhaps my paraffin breath from some impromtu fire breathing).
Two unproductive orphan days of work (reassigned to a recovery team in the central Dar branch), and I was away again to Zanzibar. How the name rolls off the tongue, floating into one's mind a dream of dhow sailboats, waving palms on white sands, turquoise and azure waters. I find it mildly embarrassing to write like this, but only such glutinous and gilded adjectives can possibly sketch the scene of the place, at least at first glance. It is of course no fantasy land (its dark history as East Africa's biggest slave market surely precluding that) but another province of the United Republic of Tanganyika and Zanzibar with six hundred thousand people mostly going about their ordinary lives, albeit around a steady stream of rapt foreigners who pay more than three years of the locals' average income to fly in for a week. Still, the place sees the benefits of tourism in a few ways, being one of the wealthier provinces and providing a number of jobs for young men and women. Some of the men in particular get other fringe benefits from the flocks of white girls looking for their dream vacation. Less attractive and wealthier women often contribute financially for their companionship, forming an interesting counterpart to the scenes at certain bars in Dar, while the more sentimental ladies end up with a boyfriend or even husband, who unsurprisingly does not stop his variety-filled lifestyle when said lady heads back to Europe. So yeah, the advantages of tourism, although I'd imagine the local women of this 95% Muslim province aren't such a fan.
So, four days in Zanzibar, filled with diving (these tropical waters every bit as good as the Andaman Sea), swimming and lazing with some other revelling expat friends, and a new year's party on the beach which formed my bed for the first morning of the year. A great little holiday all told, and the days of safari and beach a perfect refreshment from all that working in the chaos of Dar. I'm definitely making it my mission to get out of town more in the coming months and take advantage of living in this extraordinary country. Hope this year goes most excellently for everyone!
Very good ! Worth waiting for !
ReplyDeleteSound good James,Happy New Year 2012
ReplyDelete