Illuminated Heart of Darkness

Sunday, July 04, 2010
Stone Town Zanzibar, Zanzibar Urban/West, Tanzania
June 5 – July 4, 2010

Route Traveled

Uganda

               Fort Portal – Kampala – Kasese

Democratic Republic of Congo

                Beni – Kisangani – Mombassa – Butembo

Rwanda

                Gisenyi – Kigali

Tanzania

                Kahama – Moshi – Stone Town, Zanzibar – Jambiani, Zanzibar

                During my last few days at the orphanage in lake nkruba, there were two pastors that came to stay at the orphanage. They came to spread the word of God and Jesus Christ to the people of the villages. One night as we were having dinner, somehow the topic of witch doctors came up, and I started asking questions about them and what they did. Pastor Basco told me how they lived near by and whenever someone needed to get something cured or somebody killed they would come to the witchdoctor and pay them a whole bunch of money. As I was asking more questions Basco told me that the man sitting right next to me used to be a witch doctor and to ask him the questions. I tried to ask him but he really didn't want to answer. I was trying to ask him how it worked that someone would come to you and ask you to kill someone and how you went about doing this. He kept saying that he has found jesus now and he doesn’t want to talk about the past when the devil was inside of him. Basco was telling me of how they can make people go insane or just to disappear and basically vanish. But the powers could also be used for good as well. But now instead of being a witch doctor the man has taken to spreading the word of god throughout east Africa and beyond. An amazing transformation and just one example of the magic in Africa.

                The last days at the orphanage were just as relaxing as the weeks that came before. I found a book that so far has been my favorite in Africa called The Power of One by Bryce Courtenay. It was a great tale of a boy in South Africa, overcoming many obstacles and rising to legendary status. This took up most of my time as I read most of the last days laying in my hammock swaying back and forth to the cool breeze of the hills. I think I ended up reading about 6 or 7 books during my stay there.

            That Saturday, Roberts parents and brother came to visit the orphanage all the way from England. They stayed in the banda and joined us for dinners with Basco. It was a nice change of pace to the atmosphere, and it was a nice family to have around.

            On Monday, it was time to leave, I said goodbye to Felix, Fiona, and Eldred and the kids who stayed at the orphanage that didn’t go away to school. I said goodbye to my home for the last month, and sadly it was time to go. I could have stayed much much longer, but there are many more places and things to see. I hitched a ride along with dan rob and his family with john, and before we headed to town we stopped to say goodbye to the kids at their boarding school.    After saying goodbye to Basco and thanking him for everything and a much enjoyable stay, I hopped on a matatu to Kasese, in order to go to the Democratic Republic of Congo border. Once arriving in Kasese, I grabbed another matatu to the border. Once arriving at the border I got stamped out of Uganda and walked through no mans land to the congo immigration. First they searched my bag, this being the first time being searched in Africa, I had my own little locked up abroad moment, but everything was fine, and then I went to go get stamped into congo, but the lady told me I had to buy a visa at the embassy. Shocked of course, because once again I had been given false information about getting my visa at the border. So I was told to go see the boss inside immigration. I went there and waited and finally I was called into the office. The lady told me it wasn’t possible to buy a visa here at the border and that I would have to go back to Kampala and visit the embassy. I did my best to offer her extra money but to my amazement she wasn’t corrupt just like the other border officers werent in the other countries I tried to bribe my way into. So once I again I had to go back to capital, this being the third time on this trip. When I went back to the Uganda side to enter again, they guy said I needed to pay for another visa for 50 dollars, after much pleading I failed and I dished out the money to go back in the country. On my way out the lady at the checkpoint who checks passports told me I should have just gotten my exit stamp cancelled and come back without paying anything. I said of course, wouldn’t have that been nice, but he wouldn’t do it, she said oh well no big deal you can just go back to your country and make more money. I sighed and said goodbye a little bit angered, and when I got a few feet away, I thought about what she said, and laughed and agreed with her. The good news was that I was able to get a night bus that would put me back in kampala by morning time. I was in no hurry so this didn’t really matter to me, but I really don’t like going backwards, especially to a city that ive already visited.

            After riding for the whole night, we rolled into Kampala as the sun was just above the buildings in town. My plan was to be in and out, and since I was foggy eyed I just wanted to get a hotel quickly close to the bus station. I found one called the comfort inn that was right in the middle of the insane part of Kampala. Kampala is a really nice city and quite peaceful for an african capital, but the part in old kampala is an overwhelming area with people and vehicles swarming everywhere, and this is where my hotel was right in the middle of. After laying down for about an hour I waited till the embassy would be open and headed on a boda boda, motorbike taxi for the embassy. At the embassy I took care of the paperwork and paid the 130 dollar visa fee for congo, and was told to pick it up on Thursday, today being Tuesday. I could have gotten it faster but Wednesday was some national holiday, so I had to wait another day. So I had three nights to chill in the city. I knew I wouldn’t be happy staying in the crazy part of town, so I stayed the first night there, sicne I had already payed for the room, and the next day I grabbed my bags and went to the the backpackers hostel. This place was a large compound gated off from the rest of the world, with trees and grass and everything a backpacker of course would need. I got a bed in the dorm, and then went to find two trees to sling my hammock up between. I then for the whole day laid in the hammock and read. The next day it was Thursday and I went to pick up my visa for congo, everything went smoothly. Afterwards I went to watch Prince of Persia at the theater and went back to hang out at the hostel, and did some laundry.

            Early morning around 7am I headed off for the bus station to go back to the border of congo. I was once of the first to arrive for the bus, and got the front seat. However this bus took four hours to fill up and I waited and waited until it was finally time to leave. I was hoping to cross the border that same day, but it wasn’t looking possible after the long delay. The good thing was that the world cup was blasting off today and there was a big party of some kind going on next to the bus station. As I thought we got to the border after it was closed and I had to sleep there. A passenger from the bus helped me to find a good hotel, and I went to find some street food to eat in the small village.

            The next day I headed across the border, which was already familiar to me, the lady even recognized me from the last time and commented how fast I had returned. I had been there on Monday and now it was Friday, so it took me 4 extra days to go back and return with the visa. Made it into Congo finally and just like a flick of a light switch my language was shut off. It was back to French once again. I don’t know what it is, but of all the countries and languages I have tried to speak, for some reason I really don’t like speaking French. Anyway I would get around the same way I did in West Africa, very slowly and patiently, with the help of the few english speakers that I would run into. At the border I caught a car that would take me to Beni. In this car I met the congolese version of webster.   He looked like a little boy but he was defintely at least 40 years old. He helped me communicate because he was the only one in the car that spoke english, he even said that the lady sitting in the back seat was in love with me. We went through a checkpoint that took awhile and I had to go in the office and talk with the officer, but we got through ok.

            When I was looking at the map of Africa before my trip, I was deciding the places that I really wanted to visit, and for some reason getting to the Congo river was one of my main destinations and goals. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, and I also knew that it was gonna take some time as well. But I told myself If I could get there, than I was going to try my best. So this was my goal in going to the congo, and to see the river I had to go to Kisangani. First I arrived in Beni, where I was told that I could get the bus to kisangani. After arriving in Beni,I found an awesome hotel, which I really didn’t expect to find here in this small but busy dusty town. First thing I did was to get a shave at the barber down the road, and then I went searching for the bus station. After maybe an hour of walking around I finally found one. The day was Saturday, and in the ticket office I found a girl and we for certain had a language barrier. I tried to ask when the next bus was, and she kept telling me to come tomorrow, which was Sunday. So somewhat convinced that the bus would leave the next day, I went off to relax for the rest of the day. I even found a nice place to put my hammock and read the whole day, my clive cussler, dirk pitt adventure. Thanks to the french and belgians who used to roams these parts I was able to enjoy some nice baguettes and the best of all fresh fish and chips, with mayo. It was so great. The would cup was going on and at the hotel there was a tv room, and I watched the americans draw with the english.

            The next day early I headed to the bus stop to catch the bus, and it seem strange but there was noone there and the place seemed to be empty. I was early so I waited for another half hour, and it wasn’t looking good. I eventually realized that no bus was leaving from here today or anytime soon, after a little longer a guy pointed me to a place where I could find another bus across the street. The guy at this place told me the next bus wasn’t until Tuesday morning, I asked him if there were any buses in town going earlier and he said no. So I had two more nights to hang out in Beni. I headed back to the hotel and since they hadnt cleaned my room or closed the door, I slipped right back into my room as if I had never left. The staff at the hotel were very hospitable even though we could barely speak with each other and there was only a few hours of power each day between 7pm and 1030pm , enough time to watch a world cup game and to charge my archos. So for the next two days I lounged in my hammock reading, and ate fish and chips and baguettes, and watched a world cup game each night. It was a quite pleasant few days, and I could have done worse being stuck in this town of Beni.

            Tuesday morning rolled around just like that, and it was time to go to Kisangani. I had heard from a couple of different people that it took one day, or more, so I was prepared for a long journey. Now I have been on some rough bus rides, but this one took it to another level. The person who designed this bus was either an idiot or someone altered the design afterwards, because instead of having an aisle to walk down to get to the back of the bus, there were seats, so you basically had to climb your way through the bus knocking into all kinds of bags and people, and to my delight I was seated in the last row of the bus, so each time getting on and off was an adventure. Also in the back I was completely crammed, meaning once I sat down I was not able to move more than an inch, due to the people sitting so closely to me and both sides. On one side I had a man with gorilla arms that constantly lodged into my side, and the other I had a gypsy looking woman that seemed to be passed out for the entire ride, and like to try and take up more than her allotted space. But the worst part of it was the seat in front of me was so close to my knees that they had to be jammed in just to fit. The bumps didn’t help either. The trip ended up taking 29 hours to Kisangani, the upside to the trip was watching the lush jungle landscape of congo as we passed through small villages along the way. But the roads were definitely shitty, and I could feel every bump being right above the back axles. Every 5 or 6 hours we would get out to rest, and everytime I got back on the bus, I was determined to sit myself in the best possible position that would be optimal for the next 6 hour strech, each time I did so I felt a new discomfort, and I would compare my position to the ones before. There was even a heated argument on the bus which I later found out to be about religion. I was able to do a lot of thinking on the bus ride, and I came to the thought of religion, and was thinking how could anyone tell anyone else that they are wrong about their religious beliefs. Im pretty sure no one actually knows the truth, but im sure that most people think they know the truth. But its hard to imagine telling some else that they are wrong for what they are believing in. A guy who spoke english asked me what I believed in, and I told him I believed in everything.

            On arrival in kisangani I was never more happy to be getting off a bus in my life, that I can remember. At the bus station it was like immigration however, everyone had to show their ids and get their info written down, when I got in line and handed my passport the man put it in the bottom of the pile for some reason, and he also put another passport from tanzania at the bottom, apparently foreigners get the pleasure of waiting the longest to leave the bus station. After finally getting signed out the bus worker said he would show me were my hotel was, and he told me to get back on the bus, I couldn’t believe I had to get back on that thing, but it was dark and I really didn’t know where I was going, he also told me to sit down but to this I refused and chose to stay standing in the front of the bus. They took me to Hotel Los Angeles. It wasn’t the prettiest place, but it would for sure do. To my delight there was a fan in the room, and up to this point I havent had a fan in my room since being in Cairo , Egypt, which was 4 countries ago. For some reason, Ethiopia, Kenya, and Uganda don’t really believe in fans in budget hotel rooms, and there is nothing I hate more in a room than stagnant air. Kisangani was really hot and humid as well.

            The next morning I ventured off to explore the city. It seemed to be falling apart, with old colonial buildings from the times when the Belgians ran around this place were looking really old. Everyone however on the streets was friendly, and happily I wasn’t really hassled. There is a massive United Nations Head Quarters here, and I assume that the people are used to white people walking around, but I don’t think they see to many backpackers around these parts. So most people were surprised when I told them I was here just to see the place and the river. My two goals for the day were to see the river and to figure out when I could get a bus out of the place. Not that I was ready to leave so soon, its just that they only have buses on certain days, and its nice to know when you are able to leave. First thing I did was find the river, that was called the blood river by many people, and I could just imagine all the crazy things that have gone on up and down this body of water that goes on and on and on. I had made it to my destination and was quite pleased. When I was in Beni reading my book about dirk pitt, a strange thing happened, a coincidence, the song by coldplay called scientist was playing on my archos and just as I was reading the line in the book, the song said the line just as I was reading it at the exact same time. The line being…. No one ever said it was going to be easy.  When this happened I just put the book down and sat amazed for a few mintues in the chances of this happening. At the congo river I thought back to this and it hadnt been easy, but I had made it here, and that was what was important to me.

            I decided that I would take a canoe ride across the river on the next day to visit the village on the other side. Walking more around town I came across a parade of some kind, with a marching band, but the only thing in the parade was soldiers.   There must have been over 1,000 soldiers marching around with guns and swords. This was quite the intimidating site seeing all these soldiers and having them stare at me as I walked by. I couldn’t help to look into their eyes and imagine all the horrible things that these soldiers must have done during the the last 10 years of war in this country. Im sure not all of them did bad, and im sure some of them tried to help people as well, but a whole lot of fucked up shit went down in DRC, and these guys must have been involved in some way or another. Anyway a scary place for my mind to get itself to, and I walked on. Just after I met a young guy who spoke good english, and we walked around town for awhile. He said his name in english translated to Hop. And he became my tour guide in Kisangani. He helped me find the bus station to by my ticket, which I was able to arrange for Saturday, and the best thing of all was that i was able to reserve the lone front seat in the bus, which is always my favorite, because no one sits next to you and you can watch the road just as the driver sees it. But that wasn’t for another two days from now.

            Later on I treated Hop to some rice and beans along the river bank, and he showed me around Kisangani University. It was a good day of exploring and we agreed to meet the next day to take the canoe across the congo river. The next day being Friday, was a day where it seemed like nothing could go right. The day started off with me going out to get some breakfast, but there was an immigration guy waiting at the front of the hotel. He made me fill out a bunch of paperwork and it took so long, and he even tried to get me to pay him 10 dollars for filling out some stupid form, which I had already paid 20 dollars for at the border. I refused and said no way, and then he had the nerve to ask me to pay him for his transportation for him to come to the hotel. I just refused and after about a half hour he finally left. Who knows if he even was a immigration officer, anyway no harm done. After when I went to get an egg sandwich they lady wouldn’t take my 5 dollar bill because she said it looked old, and when I got back to my room, there was a hooker hanging outside of it, and It took me forever to get rid of her. Hop had met me at my hotel and as we were walking to the river, I tried to take a picture of a guy carrying matoke on his bike and he started screaming at me. I just thought to myself nothing can go right today. We made it to the canoe place and I bought a ticket for Hop and I and of course I misunderstood and paid to much, which doesn’t usually happen, but today it had to, it was only 50 cents more but it was principle. However I was finally taking a ride on the Congo River, and I was very happy. When we got to the other side, stupidly I asked hop to take a pic of me by the river, immediately we were swarmed by police and who knows who else. They were saying all kinds of things that I didn’t understand, and first hop said they wanted money and I said no way, and then they said no pictures and I said no problem, and then they said I had to go to their office and wait for the immigration police of this small village. So instead of casually walking around this village I was being escorted by police to some stupid office for no reason. After waiting by the river for the chief to come, he looks at my passport and says some stupid shit about security and me and other things and then he says I have to go into the village to their main office and talk with some other guy about who knows what. So we walked about 15 minutes to an office, and I along with hop were made to sit down. They just kept going on and on about how I didn’t have some stamp to show my arrival in kisangani, and for what reason I would need this is beyond me, they also said that since Hop didn’t have is Id , he was a lawbreaker and that he wasn’t allowed to be walking or talking with me. Hop said he had is Id at home and it proved that he was a congolese citizen, but they kept saying he could be from some other country. They said that he was gonna be put under arrest and some other bullshit about paying a fine, and I told the chief to just go to Hop;s house and he can show you the Id. The chief told me not to tell him how to do his job, I got a good chuckle out of that. They than said that they would have to escort me back across the river to kisangani and go to the main immigration office to talk to some big wig over there, they also said I would have to pay for two other peoples canoe rides and also that they were going to hold Hop at the office. I argued about this to no prevail I said I wasn’t leaving Hop like that but they would have nothing of it, I was forced out of their village and back over the river, and Hop was left behind and I had no idea what would happen to him. The officer even asked me to pay for his petrol for his motorbike because he had to drive out to greet me at the river in the first place, and to this I refused. This was all one big circus and I really didn’t know what was going on. So we got back to the mainland and we hopped on motorbikes to the immigration office , amazingly I didn’t have to pay for this part of the ride. Inside the office I was taken to a room, with a big guy with a gold chain that didn’t look friendly at all, he didn’t speak english so they brought in someone to translate. It seemed like there main concern was the fact that I was taking pictures, and that I didn’t have proof of my arrival in the city. In actuality I had filled out a form at the bus station and even one at my hotel, and they tried to get me to fill out another form and they asked me for 20 dollars for the form. To this I basically told them they could screw themselves but of course in a much nicer manner, next they asked if I had a permit for taking pictures. I said no and they said I needed one in Kinshasa which is the capital.   Then they asked what kind of pics I was taking, and I showed them my pics on my camera, which were just of the city and the river and normal stuff. They than said that since the head chief wasn’t around they might have to hold me overnight until he comes back, and figures out what to do, and for a second or two I for the first time felt nervous, were they actually gonna put me in a cell overnight? I had a bus to catch early the next morning. They must have been bluffing I thought but who knows. I told them that I would just erase my pics and there would be no issue, they said I could do that and than they said that I would have to pay them 200 dollars. I told them this would not be possible, and it went on and on for a few minutes with me telling them I wasn’t giving them shit for money. They gave up I guess and made me wait over two hours for the big chief to get back to figure out what to do with me. Meanwhile they kept my passport so I wasn’t going anywhere. Feeling angry and frustrated I waited outside for a long time, I wandered off to find some food and water, and when I got back I met a guy, who apparently was the brother of the chief of police in the city who lived next door. He told me if they gave me any problems and tried to get money from me, that he would have his brother take care of it and there would be no problems. He even took me to his brothers house which had armed guards and let me watch the usa slovakia game while I waited. The guy was doing gold mining in some jungle in the middle of the congo. As I was watching the game just as the usa scored the tying goal, I was called off to go back to immigration and talk with the chief. I talked to the chief for about two minutes, he asked me a few questions of why I was here, and then he handed me my passport and said I could go, and just like that I was free again. In conclusion they gave me shit for no reason and all they wanted was to see if they could get money out of me, but I called their bluff and made it out clean.

            For a day that nothing could go right, I decided to head back to my hotel and just relax, put some tupacs song Im Losing It, as I always did when the cops would pull me over in my car, and I kicked back. Later that night Hop came to my room, and he seemed quite shooken. They said that the cops made him pay a 20 dollar fine to get free, and that his brother in law spotted him for it. I felt so bad, Hop asked me to help him pay for it, and since I knew that he really had no money, I through him 10 dollars, and if I didn’t I knew I would have felt really bad about it for awhile, and this would end the whole situation. He told me not to forget him and we exchanged email, and he was out.

            The next day it was time to head off, and my plan was to get to Rwanda, and the only way to get there was to take the same road I took to get here. So back on the bus I go, but this time the ride was a whole different story with me having the front seat and the comfort. I put on my hi def bus riding spectacle sun glasses, put on my music and watched the congo pass me by. We stopped in the town of Mombassa on the way back for about 5 hours, and everyone slept. I slept outside for a little bit, but it wasn’t very comfortable or warm, and finally at around 2am or so we took off again. On this stretch of road the driver was driving insanely fast and we were bouncing everywhere, watching this from the front seat can be like being on a roller coaster that is off its tracks. But however we did get to Beni about 4 hours faster than it took to get to kisangani on the last ride, so that was nice. But I wasn’t going to Beni, I was going to Butembo which was the last stop on the bus ride, and was closer to Rwanda. At Butembo I was helped gratefully by the bus office operator, he helped me by a ticket for the next day to Goma, which is on the congo rwanda border, and he even took me on his motorbike to find a good hotel. I settled into my room and slept half the day away, being so tired from the bus ride, in which I barely got any sleep.

            The next day I got a mini bus to Goma, which a few years ago, got hit by a volcano that erupted in gisenyi rwanda, but spilled over the border into congo. The town was all burned up and many things were damaged by the lava. Thousands of aid workers were sent to Goma to help with the crisis. Instead of staying in Goma, I decided to head straight for the border and in Rwanda. Ive been to a lot of border crossing in my travels, but I would have to say this was one of the nicest ones I have ever seen. Being between to such conflicted countries, I was expecting it to be raw and chaotic, but I was wrong. I slipped out of congo in no time at all, and on the Rwandan side I was welcomed in very quickly and the visa was also free. But the best part about it was I was able to walk into the town of Gisenyi along the shores of Lake Kivu, it was one of the most beautiful border crossing as well, and maybe the most peaceful, because no one even tried to hassle me at all. I walked to find the hotel I was looking for, however I couldn’t find it, but I did run into a hotel manager who guided me to his hotel, which turned out to be really nice, with a tv, and free internet. Happily I sat back and put on the tv, and relaxed. The next day I walked around town, and headed off to the beautiful beach of lake kivu. I found two good trees along the water and slung up my hammock and put on bob marley and ate some avocadoes that I had bought along the road. It was nice and peaceful, but it seemed to good to be true, and I was right, because people kept coming up to me and talking with me, and it always seemed like I was being watched, I it didn’t really feel that safe, someone even told me to be careful of the banditos. I also couldn’t get this one kid to stop staring at me, he was just standing right next to the hammock and asking me question after question, so it was hard to relax. Another kid kept asking me for money, and then I decided that I had to pack up and leave, so I went to hang out in a different part of the beach for awhile before heading back into town. Later I enjoyed the luxuries of my hotel room and took it easy the rest of the day.

            In the morning I caught a bus a short ride to the capital of Rwanda, Kigali. The bus ride was stunning and Rwandas scenery was really great, hills after hills of lush greenery everwhere. It was a good ride and entering into Kigali, you would never have guessed that this was the center of the genocide back in 1994. It was a really clean city, they don’t even allow plastic bags in the entire country. The only problem was I couldn’t find a cheap hotel, so I had to dish out some extra cash for my room, one of the more expensive rooms during my trip, which was 24 dollars. My plan for the day was to get to the usa embassy because I had to get more pages in my passport and the other was to go to the hotel from the movie Hotel Rwanda and to watch the americans play algeria in the final group match of the world cup. I found the place where the embassy used to be and was confused and the someone told me they had moved, and then I got a motorbike to the embassy, and they told me to come back in two days because they don’t do passport services on this day. So I head to the hotel, which is of 4 star quality, and I hang out at the pool bar until the game started in the hammock next to the pool. At the hotel they head an amazing set up to watch the game with a massive projector on the wall and two plasma tvs on both sides of it. It was really luxury, and it turned out that there were about 15 other americans there watching the game with me, and that was the game that donaven scored in extra time, so it was a good time.            

            Later that night I saw Ghana win and they advanced to the second round, the only african team to do so, which I was very happy about. I only stayed in Kigali for one night for I was ready to get to Tanzania and to speak english and swahili once again, which I enjoy to speak very much. I got a bus to the border town, and at immigration the lady said I had to pay 100 dollars to enter, which amazed me, she told me that only americans and irish have to pay this much, and to this I believed because americans usually have to pay more a lot of the time. I asked her if I got a free tshirt along with the visa, and she laughed at me. I asked her why americans have to pay more and she said its because of what we make them pay to go to the us. Then she gave me a visa for a whole year, and to that actually was a good deal because most visas only last for 1 month or 3 months and cost 60 dollars, so this wasn’t actually that bad, however I was only planning on staying for a couple of weeks. As I was walking in no mans land I met a rasta and I was happy to be speaking english with him, I told him how I wanted to go to Moshi where mt kilimanjaro is and he told me the best way to take the bus, which was of a great help, he even helped me get a taxi to the next town and even helped me find a minibus that would take me to the town of Kahama where I would sleep that night. When I arrived in Kahama I immediately arranged for my bus ticket early the next morning to Moshi, and got a really cheap hotel room, in a town that has much of nothing in it. For dinner I ate a thing they have in tanzania that consists of an omellete with french fries in it, which is quite good.

            Early morn I hopped on a bus that took me about 10 hours first to Arusha, where the Serengetti is located and then later I took a bus to Moshi, where I got a room at the Kilimanjaro backpackers hostel, a good place however it was a jail cell like room, nice but tiny, however the place had cable tv, and we could watch the soccer games. On the following day I wandered around the nice town of Moshi, which has a nice mix of people , especially the Masai people who where traditional clothing that makes them look like warriors, and then also carrying sticks, so it looks like they are always going hunting. I got my shorts sewn up because they had ripped, I went to get a shave at the barber, and I just hung around most of the day. I was trying to figure out how I could do a day trip to the mountain, because climbing it would have cost over 1000 dollars, I really wanted to climb it but I wasn’t willing to pay this amount, I will save the climb for another time and make another trip out of it. The day trip were also about 60 dollars with a guide so I decided that the next day I would do it my self and walk around the lower slopes of the mountain in one of the villages. Everyone told me that I couldn’t go by myself but I wasn’t buying it, even one guy told me there was no way I could enjoy myself without a guide. Anyway, that night I watched the us lose to ghana in the second round, in which ghana scored the the overtime period. Although my country had lost, I was very proud of ghana and was happy that they had won, actually I would have been pleased with either turn out. But what made it so great was how the africans were so happy, and it made for a great atmosphere.

            The next day I went off on a minibus to the village to walk around and check out the area of kilimanjaro without actually going into the gates of the national park. A guide tried to latch on to me and after being very persistent I managed to go off on my own. I wasn’t walking more than 20 minutes when I met an older guy along the path, that invited me into his home in the village, I was treated to tea and he gave me about 10 bananas, and gave me a tour of his home and told me about his life, and introduced me to his 86 year old mother. It was a very nice experience, and I got to learn a little about the culture of the chagga people who were the dominate tribe in the area. Later as I was walking I met a guy along the river and he guided me to a really nice waterfall where I I hung out peacefully for over an hour or so. I headed back the same way I had came and ate lunch in the village. The hike was really nice and enjoyable. I caught a ride back to Moshi town and watched two more of the soccer matches that night.

            On the following day I was off to Dar es Saalam in order to catch a ferry to Zanzibar. I left very early and the scenic ride took about 8 hours or so. I really didn’t care if I caught the late ferry to zanzibar that day or not, but when I got off the bus I ran into two english girls that were trying to catch the ferry, and they said I could share a taxi with them to the port, and so I did. The traffic was horrible and we made it to the ferry just in time, it was a mad dash, and everyone was running around trying to get us on the boat, but we made it. It was a nice yacht without about 200 or so people on it. The ride was delightful which took about 2 hours, and we arrived in the old trading center and east africa slave capital of Zanzibar, in which I was really excited to see. We got in around 7 in stone town, which is the historic part of zanzibar and the main city. I was planning on staying a couple nights here and then finding a nice place to hang out on the beach for a little while. A guy at the port kindly directed me to a guest house through the mazes of stone town, which reminded me quite a lot of Fes, Morocco which was the first city I visited on this trip. Stone town was an awesome place, with a mix of arabic black and indian cultures all swirling about. My hotel room was nice it had a tv and even a mini fridge, with cold water and pop, which I have never seen before an any african room I have stayed in. Unfortunately on the bus ride from moshi I developed a horrible cold, and my nose became stuffed up and I was feeling so wonderful. So after going out on the street to eat some Zanzibar pizza and fries, and rested the rest of the night watching the world cup. The next day I loaded up on meds and went for an adventure around stone town. Just after I ate lunch I ran into a guy on the street named george. He seemed to be half rasta half muslim, and he turned out to be my tour guide for the day whether I wanted it or not, but I was very happy that he was, because he showed me all around town, and told me about all the sites, it was a good tour, and I saw almost the whole town, I would have gotten lost for sure in the mazes of stone town with out him. Later on he invited me to his home which was above a tourist shop for a smoke. After the smoke, him and his friend got into the harder drugs. The friend started grinding up some white powder with a knife and then lit it on tin foil with a long piece of paper and it turned black, and he told me this was charras, and then George started snorting a brown powder which he said was brown from India, and I asked if it was heroin and he said yes. So that was about time for me to leave, and I headed out of his place back into the mazes of stone town, where it took me forever to get back to my hotel, which wasn’t so bad because it was a fun walk.

            The next few days I wanted to find a really laid back and quiet beach where I could hang out and do absolutely nothing on, and I found the perfect one the next day. It was called Jambiani, and there was something about that name that was calling out to me, and I knew that I had to visit and stay at this beach. So I got a dalla dalla, which is a minibus here in tanzania, and made it to the beach. After searching for a nice cheap place I came across kimte beach inn, and it was the perfect place, with a restaurant directly on the beach constantly pumping out reggae music. It was run by a rasta name fammy and his new wife cristina from italy. It was just what I needed, and the first thing I did was find a spot to put my hammock, which was looking directly out on the turquoise waters of the ocean, and they were as clear and blue as can be. The great thing about Jambiani is that the tide is so strong that twice a day the tide goes out for at least a quarter mile, leaving a surreal scene of the sea without the water, and you can walk all the way out to the sea once the tide has gone back. Its hard to explain but really cool to look at and walk around on. The only other tide I have seen that comes a little close to this is the one in Krabi thailand, but this one in jambiani went much further. For the next four days I did nothing by lay in my hammock and read, and have the every so often smoke. The hotel staff treated me like royalty and I couldn’t have asked for a more relaxing or peaceful four days staring out at the ocean. I read the gook by george orwell 1984, which was kinda scary, but very creative and thought provoking, I also read a whole magazine about the history of reggae that was about 100 pages or so, that I read on the final day, with such great stories, I learned so much about the founders of reggae and of course my favorite artist the legendary bob marley. Fammy had heard me play my music in my room and asked me to bring it out to be played on the beach over the big speakers. It was great hearing my music resonating up and down the beach. Fammy had some good reggae like lucky dube and culture and I exchanged with him and cristina my music. I think I gave them about 100 cds of my music and I got some good ones from them. They couldn’t have been more pleased because its not easy for them to get music where they are. I was happy to share and to get the new music from them. I also saw ghana lose a heartbreaking game to uruguay which they lost in penalty kicks however they should have won on a penalty in extra time. It was sad to see ghana lose, I was really hoping they would make it to the final four, and so was the rest of Africa without a doubt.

            On Sunday it was time to say goodbye to the peaceful shores of jambiani, and I got a dalla dalla back to stone town, where I am now awaiting to catch the ferry back to dar es saalam in order to make my way south towards Malawi.


Happy 4th of July
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2025-02-18

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