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I can’t sum up my year in Africa. Nor could I bring home all the things that I loved. But here are some of the things I miss, and the memories that make me smile.
1. Buying cheap produce on the street. There’s nothing like leaning out of a bus window and buying an already peeled orange for 15¢.
2. While it can also be frustrating, the “no rush attitude” is precious. Hakuna matata, right? The sense of calm and tranquility in everything ranging from business transactions to daily activities is mind-blowing. But the level of stress associated with this attitude is minimal, and things always work out in the end.
3. The people make do with what they have, and they do so happily. For the things they don’t have, they certainly don’t lack creativity. Want to play a game of soccer and don’t have a soccer ball? Just collect some plastic bags, roll them all up into a ball and tie them with a string. Can’t afford a toy? All you need is four bottle caps (as wheels) and a plastic bottle (as the body of the car) and a stick to pull your new toy car along. My parents will tell you the story about the man in Zanzibar who was using a wheelbarrow with a flat tire but used a string to lift the weight off the tire. You have to admit that they are pretty damn creative.
4. When my family and Elior came to visit, Elior thought he was going to Kenya. Pretty much up until he boarded the flight for Tanzania.
The right clothes for safari. Just the wrong country. No big deal.
5. Tanzanians are huge on greetings and it is rude to ignore this custom. While at first I found it annoying to ask 20 questions when I only wanted to know where something was, the idea sort of grew on me. By the end of the year, not a taxi ride went by without me asking about their house, family, marital status and health of their children.
6. Swahili. It was exhausting for me to speak Swahili, but the response and look on peoples’ faces upon seeing the white girl speak Swahili was priceless. There are some words and aspects I really like about the language too. For example, shikamoo, a greeting used to show respect for your elders. Or pole (polei), a word that literally means sorry and is used for everything from a person tripping or sneezing to a death in the family. Or calling everyone either dada (sister), kaka (brother) or shemegi (in-law) even though you just met.
7. Speaking of Swahili, things often got lost in translation – or so we thought. This story was written so well by Julie that instead of rewriting it, I’m just going to provide the blog link: Funny Hot Dog Story.
8. They sell alcohol in a bag. It is a little 2 oz. packet that is so easy to smuggle into the club. What a smart idea.
Julie and I pouring Konyagi into a coke
9. When I stayed in Tofo, Mozambique I didn’t wear shoes at all. Not to the beach, not to the market and not even to the bar at night. It is such a small beach town and all the roads are made of sand that I didn’t even bother to put on a pair of flip-flops for the week. People who know me well know this is my ideal living situation: no shoes.
10. In the beginning, the rain pounding on a tin roof in the middle of the night would always wake me up. But then I started to like the sound – it was soothing. There was something beautiful about the rains in Africa. Maybe because it meant I was excused from everything. Drainage isn’t up to par, so the roads quickly become rivers. Unless you want to swim to your next destination, you just stay where you are.
11. To continue with the rain theme, when I was a little girl, my sisters and I would float bottle caps in the water on the sides of the road after it had rained. When it rained in Tanzania, it poured. And as the roads turned to rivers, I couldn’t help but think that floating bottle caps as a kid in Tanzania would have been way more fun.
My street after a quick rain
12. The sense of community. I would often see 3-year-olds wandering down the street alone. I thought it was crazy until I realized that everyone in the community was looking out for them. Pretty admirable and respectable, considering I don’t even know my own neighbors. This sense of community is also why group loans in microfinance have been so effective.
13. The lack of confrontation. There’s nothing like seriously bargaining for something while laughing and smiling, even though the likelihood was that I was annoyed and angry for being charged “mzungu prices.”
There’s plenty more, but I’ll leave you with a funny story.
14. One day I was waiting for a dala-dala at Posta, one of the main stops. To get to my apartment from Posta, I had to take two buses, which meant switching and paying twice. There was a direct dala-dala but it didn’t come very often. I decided to wait for the direct bus. When it arrived and started to slow as it neared the stop, I did what I knew all the Tanzanians would do. I ran alongside the bus and started throwing elbows as I pushed and shoved my way onto the bus. I don’t even think the dala-dala ever came to a complete stop as people got off and on. I know, it sounds crazy, but if you don’t go along with it you’re likely to end up face down on the road as you get trampled on. I got a seat by the way, and with traffic the ride took about an hour.
The next day, Rita, the Kiva coordinator at Tujijenge had a funny story to tell me. She was on a dala-dala entering Posta when someone on her bus said, “Look! Even the mzungu (white person) is running and pushing to get on the dala-dala.” As Rita looked out the window to see this spectacle, she realized that “this mzungu” was me. She didn’t understand why I was running for a Posta-Mwenge bus when they come so frequently. But when I explained that it was in fact a Posta-Kawe bus, Rita said, “Oh, good thing you ran, that bus is very rare. Did you get a seat?”
Me painting on Emily's wall in her NYC apartment
Well, I’m back in the US now so I guess this is the end. Thanks to everyone for reading!
I spent the last few months backpacking on my own around East and Southern Africa. While I’ve taken a few other trips this past year, this is a summary of the last two and a half months.
I visited the following countries: Tanzania, Kenya, Uganda, Rwanda, Malawi, Mozambique and South Africa.
Top 5 of my backpacking trip:
- Mt. Kilimanjaro and safari, Tanzania (Kili posts)
- Tofo and whalesharks, Mozambique
- Purim with the Abayudaya Jews, Uganda
- Rafting at the source of the nile in Jinja, Uganda
- The Ilala down Lake Malawi, Malawi
Approximate number of hours I spent on buses: 178 hours or 7.4 days or 10680 minutes. I have a feeling this is largely underestimated because I only added up the long bus rides from one destination to the next but not when I just moved around a place.
Favorite countries: Rwanda and Mozambique
Place I stayed the longest: Tofo, Mozambique
Longest bus ride: Nairobi to Kampala (~14 hours)
Most expensive activity: gorilla trekking in Rwanda
Worst hostel I stayed at: Doogles in Blantyre, Malawi
Best hostel I stayed at: Chimp-trekking lodge in Budongo, Uganda
Best beer: Kilimanjaro (500 ml) made in Tanzania
Only country with no international ATMs: Rwanda
Biggest avocados: Malawi
Country with least infrastructure: Mozambique
Best climate: Rwanda
Longest stretch I went without showering: 3 days
Most vicious mosquitos: Mozambique
Most unreliable guidebook: Lonely Planet
Safest capitol: Kigali, Rwanda
Most memorable meal: Macaroni and cheese (that I made)
I sadly left Tofo after 6 days to head to Maputo, the capital of Mozambique, for a Rotary meeting. Maputo was a surprisingly nice city. I spent two days there; I attended a Rotary and Rotaract meeting, enjoyed live music in the evenings, and wandered around town with someone I ran into who I knew from Kiva (small world).
But I really missed Tofo. I missed Johnny. I missed not wearing shoes at all – even to the bars at night. I missed the tranquility of the town. I missed the beautiful sunrises over the ocean and sunsets over the palm tree forest. I missed the friendly greetings, conversations and laughs with the locals. I missed chatting with the kids selling bracelets on the beach. I missed the hammocks at Fatima’s. And I missed the friends I made who work in Tofo.
If I really pushed Jo’burg to the last minute, I had three days to kill. In Africa, with its vast distances, three days isn’t much. But the beauty of traveling by myself and with no itinerary is that I can be spontaneous (i.e. returning to Uganda) and sometimes even crazy. In this case, I missed Tofo enough to do something crazy – go back! We are talking an uncomfortable 9-hour bus ride that departs Maputo at 5:30am and arrives in Tofo at 2:30pm. And then, approximately 38 hours after arriving, boarding a bus at 4am to return to Maputo. Was it worth it? Absolutely! I’d do it again in a heartbeat. And to top it off, the following day I took a 10-hour bus ride to Johannesburg.
Teaching the kids how to use a camera. Not a bad shot, huh?
One thing that always breaks my heart when I travel to underdeveloped countries is the children. It breaks my heart to see them grow up in poverty without any opportunities. They wear ragged clothes, often don’t have shoes and are small and skinny for their age. Johnny is no different. He lives in Tofo, without any parents or siblings. He is ten years old, and relies on tourists and the locals in Tofo to help him survive. I never saw him wear shoes or a shirt, only his batman shorts.
Anyone who has been to Tofo recently probably knows who Johnny is because he is very friendly. On my first day in Tofo, I was sitting on a bench in town and he sat down next to me. He speaks some English, and asked me my name and age among other things. While Johnny isn’t much different than other poor orphans in Africa, something about him is special. Johnny didn’t turn down food that I offered him, but he never asked for it. What he did ask for and encourage was to play. I think he is just really lonely because he was always so excited to see me and play. Whether it was me swinging him around or him hanging from my friend, Marcus, he was always full of laughter.
I saw Johnny playing by himself in the ocean one morning and went to play with him. We had fun jumping the waves together but when a big wave would come, he would jump into my arms out of fear. No one ever taught him how to swim. I was holding him for a while in the water (he’s small and light for his age) and after giving me a kiss on the cheek, he fell asleep in my arms. He obviously doesn’t receive enough affection.
When I was leaving Tofo, Johnny cried. I almost cried too. I meet a lot of cute underprivileged children, but I just fell in love with Johnny. My friend, Charles, promised me he’d look after him after witnessing my affection for Johnny. It would have to do, but it didn’t feel like enough. I wanted (and still do) to take Johnny with me.
Johnny is friendly, but shy in front of the camera
Johnny sleeping in my arms
Typically when someone yells shark you get your @ss out of the water as quickly as possible. But in this case, I was jumping into the water as fast as I could. I was on an “ocean safari” in Tofo, Mozambique in search of whale sharks. Often spotted in shallow waters off the coast of Mozambique, it is possible to swim alongside these gigantic creatures. Whalesharks are supposedly harmless to humans except for when they unintentionally strike with their large fin (don’t swim too close). They can grow to be up to 12m (~40ft) long, but I was happy I didn’t see any that big. It was a once-in-a-lifetime and awesome experience to swim alongside whalesharks! What wasn’t so awesome was when I got stung about 5 times by blue bottle jellyfish. They have long tails that you get tangled in and that sting you. I know what you are probably thinking. No one peed on me; I just dealt with the pain.
A Whaleshark off the Coast of Tofo, Mozambique
This is a SMALL Whaleshark
The large fin you don't want to get to close to
After 3 nights in Vilanculos, I headed a few hours south to Tofo. I was really excited to visit Tofo because there is a lot of hype about it and it is the place I was trying to visit four years ago when I got in that car accident.
My initial thought upon arrival was, “what in the world am I going to do here for 6 days?!?!” It is just a beach, and I get bored sitting around. When I asked other tourists how long they had been in Tofo, the shortest response was a week. After staying in Tofo for the 6 days, I understood too. I had to leave to meet with the Rotary club in Maputo, but I could definitely stay here for an eternity.
The View from Tofinho Point
The Hammocks at Fatima's Backpackers
In Vilanculos I met a journalist on her first trip to Africa. As travelers usually do, and journalists even more so, she asked me how long I had been in Africa and what I was doing here. I explained that I had been working in microfinance in Tanzania, and now I was just traveling for a few months before heading home. She asked me if the experience was rewarding, and I blurted out that no, it wasn’t rewarding. She and I were both equally surprised by my response. I later thought about why I didn’t find working in microfinance to be rewarding. The truth is, I wasn’t really doing anything special. The concept of microfinance is cool because it is a sustainable method of development where the poor get a chance to help themselves. It isn’t about giving charity, which is not sustainable and likely to make them dependent on aid anyway. These people were finally just getting a chance to make something of their life and business, on their own. And they were doing it in a fair and responsible manner by borrowing money and paying it back in a timely fashion, with interest. Rewarding for me? No. Inspiring for me? Most definitely!
If you also like the idea of microfinance and want to get involved, check out www.kiva.org where you can lend (you’ll get paid back at the end of the loan term) as little as $25 to an entrepreneur in the developing world so he or she can expand his or her business.
Vilanculos explains why tourists come to Mozambique despite the lack of infrastructure and tourism development. The place is a paradise. The town stretches along clear blue waters, and in the distance you can see the islands that make up the Bazaruto Archipelago. Small fishing boats slowly pass by as the fishermen make their way to the dock with the day’s catch. Young boys stroll along the beach trying to sell locally made handicrafts. And women, with babies on their backs, sell fresh fruit.
I stayed at a nice little backpackers called Zombie Cucumber. It is worth mentioning because it is definitely the best place to stay in Vilanculos. It has a really interesting dorm setup with mattresses on the floor in a circular, open-air structure.
Other than the two days I spent relaxing, (which I deserved after the effort it took to get here) I spent a day visiting Magaruque Island, which is part of the Bazaruto Archipelago. We sailed to and from the island, snorkeled on a magnificent reef where marine life is plentiful, enjoyed a freshly cooked lunch, and just relaxed on the pure white sand overlooking pristine blue water.
A view of the ocean from Vilanculos
Magaruque Island. Stunning.
Sailing to the Island
The dorm at Zombie Cucumber
The next morning at 2am I boarded a bus to Vilankulos. With all these early morning bus rides I was beginning to feel like I hadn’t slept in days. The bus ticket cost about $36, which may not seem like much to you, but I promise it is an exorbitant price for Africa. The reason it was so expensive is because they make you buy a ticket all the way to Maputo, even though Vilankulos is only about a 7-hour ride, or 1/3 of the way. As if the $36 wasn’t enough to suffice, they had the audacity to ask me for another $10 for my bag. I’m willing to pay a few bucks for my bag, but $10 is outrageous. So we argued back and forth, in Portuguese of course and with a few universal curse words thrown in. I told them I wasn’t paying for my bag and they refused to put it on the bus. I eventually told them that I wasn’t going to pay and they could just hand me my bag to keep by my seat. I figured they would just give up because there was free space for my bag on the bus. But instead they did exactly what I suggested. And let me tell you, sitting with your legs spread and your bag on your lap for 7 hours is not comfortable to you or anyone around you. I was fuming with anger. But then I finally reached Vilankulos, a town on the coast. From here I expect transport to be much easier because Vilankulos is more along the tourist route. But getting from Malawi down to the coast was a hell of a mission (but of course, well worthwhile).
Mom, if you are reading this just stop now. Marijana, you probably should too. Everyone else, I’m going to have to censor this story so that my parents don’t take my passport away to prevent me from traveling. If you want the whole story, shoot me an email. With that being said, I am a careful traveler but in Africa you don’t always have great options.
After leaving Blantyre early in the morning, I made it across the border to Tete, a town in Northern Mozambique by around 3:30pm. It was hot as hell but at least it wasn’t raining. I walked around for two hours with my bags in search of a hotel. I couldn’t find one; everything was full. Buses in Mozambique leave in the early hours of the morning, and my bus to Chimoio was scheduled to leave at 4am. I quickly learned that many people sleep the whole night on the bus, so it wasn’t a huge problem that I couldn’t find a hotel room.
There was a big bus (departs 4am) and a minibus (departs 4:30am). I wanted to take the minibus because it looked like it was in better condition. But then EVERYONE got on the big bus and I wasn’t about to stay at the bus station on my own. And someone told me the minibus wasn’t going that day, which I think was a lie. I got on the big bus and we made it about an hour out of Tete before it broke down. After 3 hours of sitting there, I think (from my limited Portuguese via Spanish that gets confused with Swahili) that the bus was going to return to Tete and they were going to try to find a new bus. I definitely didn’t want to go back to the place I couldn’t find accommodation!
A truck pulled up en route to Beira, which would pass my destination. While hitchhiking is against one of my “traveling by myself as a single female” rules, I didn’t seem to have too many options. Hitching is very common among locals in Mozambique because there is really only one main road and the buses only service main towns and not the villages along the way. I saw an African woman and her two kids climb into the truck, so I went over and asked them for a ride. They asked for $10 and I didn’t even try to negotiate. I figured I should just cut my losses and get moving. I nervously climbed into the truck and off we went. I was sitting on the mattress (where the driver sleeps) with the other woman and her two kids, envisioning all the worst possible scenarios. Then we picked up a few more hitchhikers and I came to terms with these guys just trying to make an extra buck. I mean, they seemed nice enough, the music was good, and it was way more comfortable than the bus. They knew I spoke no Portuguese so when we stopped, one of them bought me a soda.
The road, or lack thereof, was awful. Most of the road wasn’t even paved, and to think this is the only main road in Mozambique that runs north-south?! After about 10 hours, they dropped me at my destination. I was happy I made it to Chimoio THAT DAY before dark, and I even knew where to stay (per the recommendation of a traveler I met in Malawi)!
I knew this part of Mozambique would be difficult in terms of transport because it is really off the beaten path. Yet I made it to Chimoio safely (no accident this time) and it was all part of the adventure! At the least, it’s situations like these that give me good blog material. So luckily or unluckily, my transportation woes weren’t over just yet. More to come…
A map of Mozambique to show the route I covered
