Mbeya, Tanzania - Day 213 - Boots on the Loose

Got to the train station and were directed to the first class lounge. Hot dog! One thing I’m loving about Africa is how so many things have not changed since the 1960’s (Jen doesn’t get it though). The lounge was filled with worn out black leather couches with chrome legs, table painted lime green with that fake brown wood as highlights, fake wood everywhere actually (wallboard, etc.), an old clock on the wall that doesn’t work, sink area in the bathroom was carpeted, and often people’s style is stuck in the 60’s too – brown suit with a big fat Barney Miller tie… I love it! (I don’t love it however when we’re driving on a road that’s caught in the 60’s… or perhaps a set of train tracks from the 60’s…).

Train left pretty much on time; had heard lots of bad things about it, like how it sometimes derails, breaks down, people are shifty, it’s slow and rough, sometimes the rails get too hot and the train has to stop… but we’re currently two hours from our destination and it was slow and rough, but a lot better than sitting on a bus (and it looks like we might be roughly on time, after a 20 hour ride). I did see a local woman crying to the police at the departure station saying she was pickpocketed right outside the train though.

Jen and I were separated into different sleeper cabins (had the option to pay for the whole cabin but the cost was nearing the price of a flight); after seeing how much people (men) drink in the dining car though, we can see why they keep the genders separate. I shared my room with a nice gentleman from the Congo who spoke French and a little English, as well as a younger guy from Zambia who asked if I was from Calgary because he knew that Brett Hart (WWF wrestler) was from there. Jen’s room was a little cooler, all Zambian and really nice people. We started into some good political discussions, lots on life in Africa, Jen was told she had to have babies, but then their conservative religious views got to be a bit much (specifically on how Muslims (ironically) are all brainwashed, but then going on to say that homosexuality is all wrong because the bible says so…). Never the less, it was very interesting talking with them and it was all dealt with with a lot of laughing. I suppose like much of Africa’s infrastructure, as well as dress, the thinking of even the well educated is a little behind the times. To further that point, any time anyone had the opportunity to throw trash out the train window (or anywhere else for that matter), it was done without a synapsis of thought. I guess it was all the same for us about 30 years ago. Oddly, I don’t see a spec of litter in the countryside – does that mean we’re doing it all for naught?? Think we’re probably lacking the goat power (they’ll eat anything) for that to be a reality back home.

Jen and I were having a discussion last night about what would be the 1 and only thing to take from the trip if there had to be just one. I think (perhaps disappointingly to some) that it’s that life over here really isn’t all that different from anywhere else. We’re all people. If you cut out all the bullshit, the wars, the politicians, the tribal lines, the poverty, the resources, etc. etc., and you could have a discussion with someone on what they want and hope for, you’ll find very few differences. I like this conclusion but I find it a little unmotivating; was hoping for something that might make me want to go out and save the world, but I guess you can argue that’s exactly what it should do.

The landscape here in western Tanzania is BEAUTIFUL! Far better than the train ride to Mombassa in Kenya. Farm fields, forests, flatlands, rolling hills, mountains in the distance. Tiny villages with children running alongside the train (who could almost catch us we’re going so slow), streams, muddy ponds filled with lily pads, banana trees. Last night during dinner we went through a national park and I’m pretty sure I heard an elephant trumpeting beside the train.

The train is in fact a little too rough for a good sleep; on top of that I went to bed boiling hot, but woke up a few hours later absolutely freezing…and people don’t seem to be worried about making a lot of noise at all hours. Ah well, it’s all short-term pain.

As predicted, the train pulled in right on time to a beautiful looking colonial style station, perched on a hillside overlooking Mbeya and it’s surrounding hills. Mbeya is at the south end of the highlands so has a much cooler (and very much appreciated) climate; cool enough that a wet towel will actually dry, and a pair of pants are almost required at night. SUCH a nice change from the coast. Got a ride into town with a rasta dude looking for business of course; ended up staying at the 3rd hotel we looked at for $10 a night (nice and cheap compared to spendy Dar).

Mbeya is Tanzania’s 4th largest city; it’s the main border town for both Malawi (where we were headed), as well as Zambia. The books say it’s a bit seedy but I honestly didn’t see anything bad about it (in fact you could tell by the houses and the way people dressed it was one of the wealthier places we’d been in a while). Wandered up through town to find the tourist info which apparently had the schedule for the once-a-week ferry that goes down Lake Malawi (you could tell by the way people looked at us that they didn’t see white people there too often). Turned out the ferry actually WAS leaving the next day, but then eventually we made the decision to skip it, and spend a full day in Mbeya, perhaps go for a hike or something.

Jen and I are perhaps the two biggest fence-sitters I know; making these types of decisions can often be so drawn out and labourious that it truely becomes painful. Headed back and had dinner at the next-door hotel (as good a vibe as we got in Mbeya, we were still told to not walk around after dark). Ordered our meals and waited an hour and a half before they were ready (I only mention this to highlight the level our patience has attained over here). There’s truely no point in being upset over these types of things; I think the people that “don’t make it” are the ones that don’t make this realization.

Met our guide, Felix back at the office the next morning. Felix turned out to be one of the nicest people we’d met thus far on the trip. 28 years old, always smiling, he and five other guys opened a co-operative type tourist office, as well as a farm that they tended during low season, and were working towards opening a campsite just outside of town. Earlier he had gone to school in Japan for six months to study tourism. One of the true success stories we’ve seen. Hike up the mountain took around 3 hours, enjoyed some beautiful views at the top, another 2 hours back. Had some fantiastic discussions about world politics, African politics, Western politics, religion, life… you name it. If everyone in these parts had a head like Felix, it would be a different world indeed. A few interesting facts: half of Tanzania’s budget is paid for by foreign aid (no wonder politicians like to keep the place poor by stealing all the money), their tourist office costs $600/year to rent, Felix couldn’t get a passport without bribing the government official, and the reason Zanzibar joined Tanzania in the 60’s was from American pressure during the Cold War. Incidently I read somewhere that many Africans think AIDS was introduced by the US because it sounds like “Aid”. Christ.

Decided to treat ourselves to Chinese food that night. Found the place which turned out to be one of the dumpiest looking places around; walked inside, “Hello? Hello? Jambo?”… found a lady fast asleep with her head on the counter. Of course they WERE open, and the food was great. Couldn’t get a cab for the 5 minute walk back, so paid someone from the restaurant to walk us… first thing he said once we started was that the area was very dangerous for Mzungus. Thanks.