ARRIVALS

Kipanga                        Tanzania, Lake Tanganyika                    Population:  100   

      

We arrive, like ancient travellers, in a handmade wooden boat. The guys paddle as I scoop out water that is leaking through holes plugged with thread.  Men and women come down to greet us. Children scatter in all directions, terrified by our ‘umzungu’ faces. The fishing rods cause much confusion, and are examined closely. Spotting a hook one man realises their use, his face lights up and he excitedly tells the rest. Hand gestures, touching, ‘ooohs’ and ‘aaahs’; the fishermen are thoroughly impressed.

The village itself has nothing. Just a shop with spares for boat motors.  Asking for food, we’re pointed back to the village we just came from. Too tired to paddle back we decide we’ll rather starve and set up camp on the pebbly beach.

Kipanga means ‘Hawk’ in Swahili.

Nairobi                         Kenya, Capital City                   Population 3.2 million (2009 census)

We bundle off the bus onto littered streets. 2am. Starving. Cold. We walk and find a 24hour Chicken & Chips joint. A huge portion of chips is only 55 Kenyan Shillings, about six bucks. We each have two.

Back to the bus, and the driver allows us to spend the night in it. He takes the prime five-seater back row and stretches out. We’re left uncomfortable, crammed on double seats, but at least off the street. In the morning we wake to a completely different city, except for the bustling Chicken & Chips joint. Business as usual.

The name "Nairobi" comes from the Masai phrase Enkare Nyrobi, which translates to "cold water".

Sumbawanga     Tanzania, capital of the Rukwa Region    Population: 150 000 (2002 census)

                        

It’s a mission. Not merely a manner of speaking, but literally. We’re directed by an over excited receptionist to the head nun’s office. Slipping away the empty beer bottles the Sister gives us a triple room for the price of a single.

Jordan’s slops break. His bare feet create a scene. Being barefoot here is a sign of poverty and madness. Trying to preserve his dignity, everyone in the town rushes to get him shoes, mainly slops... bright green, red, yellow, pink or orange. One or two offer him closed shoes, even some nice leather ones. We’ve learnt on our travels that closed shoes are useless. His refusal creates pandemonium, so he settles on a pair of red slops.

Sumbawanga literally translates to “through a way you are witches”. It stems from local superstitions and practices relating to spiritual healers in the surrounding smaller.

Giza                   Egypt, Pyramid City                Population 2.5 million (2006 census)

Tourist central. We’re hustled into a Lebanese restaurant and seated at a laden table. Breads of all kind, towers of grapes and other fruits I’ve never seen. Dates, olives, jams, cheeses, wine bottles, even Champagne. Our waitress is a Lebanese girl in skimpy clothing. I pull out my wallet. Empty. Say, “We have no money” and we’re hustled out onto the street.

Back to the train station we each find a concrete bench to spend the night on. In the morning we’re taken for breakfast by two young policemen. Chickpea falafels in pita bread with cucumber and sweet tea. They’re fascinated by us and want us to meet their families. We have a train to catch and regret our leaving.

“When the Muslims opened Egypt, they crossed the Nile to the other side from this area so they called it ‘giza mubaraka’. A blessed crossing of the Nile. Since then the area is called Al Giza” – Ahmed (Our host who robbed us.)

Dar es Salaam       Tanzania, formerly Mzizima        Population 1.3 million (1988 census)

We are stranded. We sit and talk to truck drivers at the Tunduma border. They club together and buy us bus tickets to Dar.

“We are all men here,” says Ali, “sometimes we have financial tightness. We are pleased to help you; some day you will do the same.”

We’ve organised to meet Charl, who’s somehow connected to a friend back home. He’s a South African expat working in the mines, settled in the exclusive Peninsula area near the well known Holiday Inn. The trip has taken thirty two hours and we arrive smelly and dirty in our holey shirts.

 Jordan and Robs try to surreptitiously change their clothes on the lush lawn outside the Holiday Inn. We’re so out of place. They have wet wipe baths and drown themselves in deodorant. I decide against it. I don’t want to make a scene in front of the hotel, and think a hardcore Afrikaner working on the mines will be impressed with our roughing it anyway. He’s an accountant and I feel sheepish as I climb into his impeccably clean Land Rover, and slide along its smooth leather seats.

Dar es Salaam is an Arabic phrase meaning ‘haven of peace’.

Addis Ababa                Ethiopia, Capital          Population estimate 4.1 million (2013)

A sprawling metropolitan slum. Marketo Sub city bus rank. A seething mass of outstretched limbs reach up to the bus. Coffee, mealies, fruit, pens, handkerchiefs.

Outside the bus a porter tells us we should not be here. We pull our rain covers over our bags, protection against opportunistic thieves, and go get some lentil samoosas.

Addis Ababa means "New Flower" in the African language of Amharic.

Isiolo            Kenya, Eastern Province, Isiolo county         Population 140 000 (2009 census)

We’re having a taxi swap over. The drivers stand in a huge circle and pray for protection on the road.  The prayer is led by a man in a fancy suit with a fat Bible. It’s loud and in some local dialect. We agree with Amen’s.

Meaning of Isiolo unknown.

Kapiri Mposhi          Zambia, close to the DRC border           Population: 200 at a guess

We’re dropped at a petrol station where trucks often refuel. A crossroad where we can get lifts to our next destination.  Inside, there’s a TV and we watch the last 20 minutes of Tottenham vs QPR. It feels like home. We also watch the chickens. All in a row, brown and glistening, turning slowly on the rotisserie.

Outside we dodge the oily patches on the ground and prop ourselves up against a wall, out of the wind. We pull out our sleeping bags for warmth. Africa is big and it’s sky wide. The petrol station is small and I’m small in the petrol station.

Women nearby are selling bananas and peanuts, still dirty in their sandy shells. They give us some. Thank you. For supper.

I don’t know the meaning of Kapiri Mposhi. But it sounds kind.

Wadi Alfa      North Sudan, on the shores of Lake Nubia       Population: next to nothing

The old Jackie Chan film ends in perfect unison with our journey. It’s subtitles told a different story. The doors open, heat rushes in. I’ve lost my sun glasses and the glare of the white sand hurts my eyes. It’s not quite what we expected. Jackie Chan doesn’t get the princess and she’s stolen by his nemesis. I’m so thirsty and the cold water tastes like sand.

A wadi is a river in North Africa or Arabia. A river which is dry except in the rainy season. Alfa I don’t know. Perhaps it is the name of a famous local.

Awassa              Ethiopia, The Great Rift Valley                 Popluation 150 000 (2007 census)

Everywhere is expensive, except one place.

The women at the door look excited to see us.

 It doesn’t last long. 

We do not seek companionship.

Meaning unknown.

Marsabit                     Kenya, southeast of the Chalbi Desert        Population: minimal

It’s pouring and I need to pee. I climb out the back of the truck, my back stiff from sleeping against its cold metal sides. The roads potholes are filled with water and reflect the lights of nearby buildings. A hand gestures from a nearby hotel.

I watch TV with Peter for half an hour. I must call him when I’m home, he says.

What I learnt from Google, Wikipedia:

 Originally, Marsabit was popularly known as Sokorte. The name Marsabit was given by English explorers who went through the area using landrovers. Popular inhabitants, the Rendille, used to call it Sokorte or Haali dayan. Trekking across the drylands, white explorers describe where they were coming from by pointing fingers to the mountains saying 'Mars a bit" which means high and cool - an old English word. The local residents didn’t pronounce it well, and hence 'Marsabit' was picked up from there. Others claim the name is from the Amharic word 'Marsa bet'; Meaning Marsa's home/house. Marsa was a farmer brought to Marsabit from Mega, in Ethiopia, by the Consul to assist in the consolidation of farming and permanent settlement on the slopes of the mountain.

Kiwengwa                   Zanzibar                       Population: 10 people

Jordan is excited. He’s going to see Shaka, a guy he met on last trip. We walk down the path Jordan remembers, turn around the corner and are greeted by a plot of over grown weeds. Shaka’s hut is gone.

A bunch of high Rastas smoke under a palm roof shelter. They invite us in. They say we can stay wherever we like. Montera, the one with a glorious mane of dreads, recognises Jordan and says he knows where Shaka stays. He’ll call him. His wife left him after the fire and he makes curios on the beach. He’s a beach boy now. They’re famous for sleeping with foreigners, especially the Italians. Montera actually has a kid in Italy who he’s going to visit soon. Shaka says he’s looking for a white lady too now.

The meaning of Kiwengwa went up in smoke.

Chuma                    Zambia, Large informal settlement of about 2000 people

MacNully had picked us up, and after an eight hour journey we were considered friends, so we had to stay over at his house. He laughs at how poor we are. We fetch his son and daughter from school. Chando’s big brown eyes watch our every move. Mbulelo is told by her father to practice her English with us. “Hello, ‘ow are you?”, “Mayi name is Mbulelo. I am nian years old”, ”My fayvorite subject is Science”, “You arah welcome in owah place”.

We’re given bread and tea for supper. A new margarine is brought and opened especially for us. Chando and Mac each have four table spoons of sugar in their tea. Only men sit at the table. Chando is clearly Mac’s favourite child.

In the morning a chicken is thrown in our room to wake us up, and once we’re up, we’re proudly paraded around the dusty streets of Mac’s village, taking the long route back to where his truck is parked.

Chuma. A place where the streets have no names.