Dar es Salaam

Dar es Salaam

We entered Tanzania through Dar es Salaam. Described in most tour guide books as a forgettable place without much to see, we pretty much just planned to use it as a base to get to Zanzibar, and then up to the game parks.

Indeed, Dar is not much of a tourist town. For starters, it has the worst malaria in a country where 25% of the population dies from malaria. That gets your attention! (Yes, we are taking malaria prophylactic drugs.)

Having traveled in the developing world a while now, much of Dar seems familiar. All manner of traffic is in the streets, which are a combination of paved and dirt. The sidewalks are non-existent or crumbling. Signs of prior investment, including tall modern buildings, now seem to be withering away through neglect or lack of money.

The airport is simple and tiny. We climb down the steps from the plane onto the field, and cross over to a small building. Clearing immigration is easy --the main focus of the officials seems to be to collect the duties on purchases made by Tanzanian nationals returning from Europe or the mid-east. We look through the airport front door and see the crowds of touts and hustlers, and stop to brace ourselves for the onslaught. We're back in the developing world!

The first day is spent largely on logistics. We find the ferry dock for the trip to Zanzibar, the bank, the supermarket, a gas station (for the cook stove), and the airline ticket office. We stay at a Lutheran Guest House, adjacent to the chapel.

At night, Dar does not look very inviting. The crowds are largely gone, the street unlit, and doorways and windows covered with steel. Of the people on the street, many are armed guards at specific businesses or government offices. Something tells us we ought not to venture far, so we beat a quick path back to the hotel.

In the morning we are treated to a pleasant surprise. In the chapel is a Morning Prayer service with a magnificent choir. The sound easily travels the 20 meters through the open windows. The Christian gospel with a distinctly African vocal sound is quite mesmerizing. We lie in bed quietly listening, and this becomes a daily treat.

Dar is much more diverse than I expected. There is a sizable Indian population, as well as Arab, and of course African. Once again, I am reminded of a map of the world (in the British museum) which is centered on the Indian Ocean, and it all makes sense that these are neighbors and have cross migration.

The weather is warm, but there are some strong rainstorms. Once it floods the streets enough that the hotel staff places stepping stones across the street so that guests can cross over the 3-4 inch deep water in the street. But the ground is largely sand and by morning it is clear again.

Parts of Dar es Salaam are relatively modern, including the region of embassies, ex-pats, and wealthy nationals. In the center of town, where we are staying, it is rather different. In addition to storefronts, there are numerous sidewalk merchants. Some have shacks set up from corrugated steel. Others are simply human clothes racks, people carrying a dozen shirts on hangers up the street and offering them to all passers-by. We watch people selling shoes, shirts, slacks and newspapers walking along the street, and try to imagine how anyone can earn a living that way. A man may have just three pairs of shoes to sell, so he must find a customer with the right size feet and preference in order to make a sale.

We pass by the Cultural Center, and stop in. Sometimes these are just tourist traps, but this has some very good Makonde wood carvings, painting, and other art. While looking around, we hear some drumming, and follow our ears around the back and out the door. A man motions us to come, so we round the corner and find a dozen people, some with drums and other dancing. One white woman is dancing with them. A man explains that this is a dancing class, and invites us to watch.

Those of you who have not seen African dance are missing something. If you are in Portland, there is a great African dance team (Obo Addy) that you should go see. I'm sure that our friends in Los Angeles can also find some similar place to visit. African dance cannot help but put a smile on your face. It is nothing if not fully emotional and captivating. The body movements are not graceful and delicate, but instead pounding, jarring and sensual. The drumming and singing add to the atmosphere.

We watch the dance class, and chat with the one white woman. Her father is stationed in Dar with the Foreign Service. At about twenty five years old, she has the opportunity of a lifetime. She fully immerses herself into the local cultures, taking language, dance and other classes as her dad moves to different locations. Wow! Who needs a university if you have a parent in the Foreign Service!

After the dance lesson we prepare to leave, but are a bit slow getting out. It turns out that another group has shown up to practice. They are a young but very skilled team, preparing for an exhibition in Stockholm,Sweden! Again we are invited to stay, and this dance exceeds even the one before. Three young women dance and sing while three men drum, and the elders coach and cheer. The dancers are excellent, with huge grins, great enthusiasm, and pounding movements. It is hard to stay seated.

We walk back to the hotel with big grins on our faces!