Tanzania: If 'This Is Africa', is that a good thing?

Weaver birds look out over the Udzungwa Mountains 

'So, what d'you think of Tanzania?', Mirjam asks me.  We're only one hour over the border from Malawi, so it's a tricky question to answer fairly.

Often I notice a change as soon as I pass a frontier (although Zambia was an exception in that respect).  Tanzania is a good example, and Mirjam agrees.  It's more affluent, that's clear: the locals have shiny Chinese motorbikes, not just bicycles.  There's more agriculture too - each valley is neatly cultivated and the street stalls are overflowing with onions, potatoes, garlic, green peppers and tomatoes.  The weather is lovely and the scenery charming, but in this it's similar to its neighbour. 

A Masai tribesman with a fine set of wheels

People mostly dress the same, too, with bright wraps and colourful t-shirts.  However, once we're deeper into the country we see the Masai tribes people: wearing red chequered robes with the ultimate accessory - a herd of twenty cows.  There are more Muslim clothes here too; for example, white fez hats and robes. 

Each village seems to have both a church and a mosque, which is not surprising when you learn that 45% of the population is Christian, and 40% Muslim.  As we approach Zanzibar we are joining roads that once formed the old Arab caravan routes.  There is sign of change in people's faces too, although it's probably more to do with someone's style of hair / beard.  I'm not able to distinguish easily, and will have to take photos to help.

All in all, we're rather enjoying Tanzania, so after just an hour of the country we laugh - what else are we going to learn?   As it happens, quite a lot.

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'Ah, but This Is Africa', the cliche goes.  You're supposed to repeat it, with a knowing movement of the head, on an almost daily basis.  What we've yet to reconcile is whether 'this' is a good thing - does it follow, or initiate wild mood swings?

We're tucking into a pennies-cheap lunch of rice, tomato and onion salad, and grilled beef cuts all washed down with a bottle of Sprite.  Yes, this is Africa we nod - testing our co-ordination skills by simultaneously rubbing our fattening bellies.  Often, we've fed inexpensively on tasty fare such as this, avoiding for the most part the touristy restaurants that double the price.  Avoiding stomach upsets too, which is a bonus.

Riding off, we pass a series of large, wrecked vehicles left equally char-grilled by the side of the road.  The bitumen is burnt and melted, but sparkles with the embedded glass shrapnel of shattered windows.  As yet another bus careers around the corner, or leaps out from behind a caravan of charging haulage lorries, we wince at the reckless driving habits; but dutifully confirm afterwards that this is Africa.

Dawn safari... who needs a Land Rover 4x4, eh?

Another day, just, and a 5am wake up.  It's still dark, but the cocks have started crowing as though they're paid per minute.  For once it's not an issue: we're riding into the neighbouring Mikumi National Park at first light. 

Now, within minutes, we're stopped at the side of the road watching from our bikes as buffalo raise their heads - and horns - towards us.  They look as bleary eyed as I'm feeling at this early hour. 

A bleary eyed buffalo.  0-60mph in 6 seconds... Me? 4.3.

My eyes clear as the traditional huge sunrise lights our self-run safari game ride - I'm picking out a herd of half a dozen elephants walking parallel to the road.  Daan motions to the opposite side, and we stop to watch a couple of giraffe.  There are various antelope around too, wildebeast and a few baboons.  All this is on view just by riding along the main trunk route A3 that bisects the park.  So yes, game viewing for the budget-conscious overlander?  Yes, This Is Africa.

Strange things happen here, too.  We've arrived in a pretty campsite just up the coast from the city of Dar es Salaam.  White coral sand beach and turquoise waters - you know the type, right?  The usual pre-camp design discussion starts between Daan and myself, as poor Mirjam pleas for a quick swim first.  But us boys are keen to get our set up right: get it wrong and the daytime sunshine will make the tents uninhabitable for most of the day (and night). 

Daan cranes for that perfect shot...

You lookin' at me?

Eagle... eyed.

After agreeing a cunning strategy that combines natural shade, existing structures and our own tarpaulins we fine tune the design by asking the local staff member to confirm where the sun rises.  'Yes, over there!' he nods wisely, thus also confirming where the sun sets.  'And the sunset?'  I check, to be sure.  'Yes, over there!', he points again.  In the same direction.  'Both?', we try to clarify a few times.   'Yes, both.'   He's so sure that it seems rude to doubt:  'That's great, thank you very much'.   You see, this is Africa.

We're riding the highs, enjoying the wonderful landscapes of Tanzania - forests of thick Baobab trees stand like a scene out of Lord of The Rings.  (They look somehow human, with distorted proportions very different to other trees.)  We've passed sugar cane and cotton fields, the tea plantations of the Southern Highlands and the rocky Udzungwa and Uluguru mountain ranges on the way east.

Baobab forest... A bit creepy

We've also hit rocky lows too - a patch of homesickness clouding briefly the otherwise sunny disposition of the hard riding Dutch companions. 

Keep calm, and put the kettle on

It's testing to be charged four times the price a local is charged, but okay if the rates are clearly displayed: then it's our choice whether to buy a ticket.  More difficult to swallow are the seemingly random changes in camping rate / exchange rate or available facilities that sometimes change after we've already set up, ordered or started...  There's only so much that can get 'lost in translation' and we're not so green as to forget to ask up front. 

This is particularly tough on Daan and Mirjam, as they're counting their euros carefully to decide how they can best finish their trip.  At times like those it seems this continent is trying to be rid of them early - it draws unfavourable comparisons with many parts of Central or South America, they feel.

The trick, we've been told time and again, is not to fight the system.  After all, for good and ill, this is Africa.

This is Africa, remember.