Hello Kili !

Day One - Machame Camp (3000 Meters)

A wet slog through the rain forest up to 3000 meters with the rain clouds and thunder as our constant campanions. Despite the adamanant reassurances of the tour operator, the tent leaked, the ground sheet was too small and lovely puddles formed on the floor. Still the cool air and the occasional glimpse of the snowy peak of Mount Kilimanjaro is pleasant. I an going up with an English traveler and it's good to have someone to talk to and play cards with. There are quite a number of people, guides and porters going up today. About four other groups totaling 25 French, Russians and Americans tourists and 150 porters. We have one of cheapest with one guide and porter each ($850 US including the outrageous $633 US six-day park and camping fees) but the fancier treks come with tables, chairs, mess tents, vases with plastic flowers and even their very own portal johns and accompanying pup tents.

Day Two - Shira Hut (3850 Meters)

As promised we had egg, toast and one sausage (hot dog) for breakfast. The thunder and rain follows us as we leave behind the trees and are camping in shrub and barren rocks. Our clothes is damp as the sun only appears briefly in the morning to tease as with its' warmth and then the clouds and rain return. We camp at 3700 meters and eat our dinner inside our tent.

Day Three - Barranco Hut (3950 Meters)

It rained all night and there was no sausage for breakfast. We reached the snow level today and the path was slippery and we sink in the snow at times. To acclimatize we hike up to 4700 meters to the Lava Towers and hike down a steep gulley as the sound of avalanches is heard in the background. We return back down to the mud, wet ground, and some funny looking palm-like trees. I feel only a slight headache due to the altitude but my appetite remains good and I try to drink as much water as possible. I am looking forward to a hot shower and dry clothes in a few days.

Day Four - Barafu Camp (4700 Meters)

It didn't rain last night and the sausage made an appearance this morning! We went up and down three ridges as the rain clouds came back to drench us. We reached Karanga Camp at 3900 meters to each lunch standing in the pouring rain and then ascend 800 meters straight up to Barafu Camp. We return to the snow and barren rocks as we use the chicanes to guide us along the trail throught the mist. We walk on scree now and follow the muddy and snowy footprints of many who came before us. We camp in the snow and I continue my daily ritual of squeezing the water from my gloves and socks, and wear my wet clothes in a vain attempt to dry them with my body heat. I keep aside one spare sock to remind my feet what it feels like to be dry. I have a little shortness of breathe and light headedness going up but generally feel well. We eat a spegetti dinner and sleep early tonight. We climb the summit tomorrow!

Day Five - Uhuru Peak (5896 Meters) / Mweka Gate (1700 Meters)

We wake up at 1:00 a.m. and start the steep ascent up to summit at 1:45 a.m. after tea and biscuits. The going is a lot more difficult than I had anticipated and very icy on the snow as I constantly slip. My breathing is heavy due to the altitude and I have a headache and feel like vomiting. We attempt to keep our feet dry by wrapping plastic bags around our last pair of dry socks. Useless. Our soggy gloves, socks and boots freeze as we climb. Many "Our Fathers" and "Hail Marys" were said on the way up.

Luckily, the night is clear and the wind was minimal as the snow only came down later. At around 7:30 a.m., about a hour after sunrise and having gone up a cliff and around the crater's edge, we reach Uhuru Peak. We have touched the roof of Africa today!

We decide to decend to the bottom past Mandara Hut to Mweka Gate given the unpleasant prospect of spending another wet night camping in the mud. Just so we won't forget it rained again as we came down to the tropical rain forest, flowers and the sounds of monkeys. I can not truly express my appreciation of the simple pleasures of a hot shower, clean clothes and a warm, dry bed. I fall to sleep quickly that night.

December 31, 2006 - Moshi

I am off on a four-day Safari tomorrow to the Serengeti to see the wildlife and the wide grassy planes. The wildebeasts have already migrated down from Kenya and now roam the Serengeti. I wish you all a Happy New Year.

Christmas in Tanzania

It is Christmas day in Moshi. A part of the market remains open with Swahili and Christmas songs blaring from speakers and pineapples, green oranges, sugar canes and tomatoes piled along the roadside for sale. Clothes are hanging off trees or fences, and shoes line the dusty sidewalks trying to attract a potential buyer. As this is Africa, you don't see the hustle and bustle of shoppers carrying presents or the mad rush of the "last-minute shopper". A new shoe or dress is usually the most a child will get for Christmas. An occasional festive light or plastic Christmas tree can be glimpsed in a store or restaurant, and some street vendors are selling evergreen tree branches (freshly cut from the national park) for decoration.

Most of the stores are closed and the streets are quiet as I walk back from the morning church service with the lively singing, clapping and drumming. I am a little homesick as I miss the company of my family and friends and the taste of turkey and stuffing, smothered in gravy and cranberry sauce. The traditional Christmas meal in Tanzania consists of grilled banana, pilau (black rice), ugali (corn mieze), roast beef or pork, and the special treat of chipatti (Indian bread). I plan to eat my Christmas dinner later at a buffet in an Indo-Italiano restaurant aptly named Deli Chez, and then pack for the six-day climb up Kilimanjaro mountain tomorrow by the Machame or more popularly known as the Whiskey route. I go where the conveyor belt of life takes me. Have a Merry Christmas where ever that may be.

Mzungu, Mzungu !!!

Sometimes as I pass a village or street, the children or some idle adults will shout out "Mzungu, Mzungu!" A little odd to me as it means "white person" in Swahili. Often as much I get a hiss or whistle to get my attention and "Cheena, Cheena" or "Japan" will then be yelled. On two occasions, I was enthusiastically called "Mr. Lee, Mr. Lee." What am I to do... but flash a grin and a thumbs up, and respond back with "Mozambeekee", "Malawee" or "Tanzaneenee!"

I can't believe today is Christmas Eve. It's pretty quiet here in the small town of Moshi, Tanzania and since it's raining season, the clouds are covering the view Mount Kilimanjaro.

Meanwhile in Zanzibar

The Island of Zanzibar seems quite separate from the rest of Tanzania. Physically, it is separated from the mainland by the Indian Ocean and a three hour ferry ride (one and a half hour if you take the more expensive fast ferry). You even have to go through immigration with the semi-autonomous government again once you land. The island and especially the old or "stone" town, has a more Islamic and Arabic feel to it. Young girls and women walking in burkas and mosques and islamic schools are found throught the city. Stone town is a facinating mix of narrow, dark, winding lanes connecting homes, wood workshops and court yards together, where the tourists flock to provide income for this country. I think some Tanzanians have mix feelings for Zanzibar, as it is also associated with its' past, the African slave trade. The once capital city of the Arabic empire in East Africa (complete with Sultan, harem and hamam) prospered and grew due to this slave trade, and later spice and ivory. African slaves sold on the markets set off to sea from here, never to return.
As a tourist, the town envelopes with atmosphere and walking around you will likely get lost and eventually walk out into the sunlight and bright blue water front. The touts constantly hawk their wares or ask about joining a tour, and the locals occasionally greet you with a Swahili "Jumbo!".

Just before sunset, the Forodhani Gardens is busily transformed into a lively night market of food stands. Octopus, crab, prawns, baracuda, banana or sweet potatoes all wait to be ordered for grilling accompanied by chippati or a mound of fries. Or try the "Zanzibar Pizza," a crepe-like egg with meat and vegetables fried on an iron plate. It's cheap and fun but a word of warning, it's not for weak stomachs as sanitation is to be desired, the food is not always fresh (despite their claims), and all the cooks should take a "food safe" course. I went crazy eating there for two nights and paid for it with two nights of restless sleep, stomach problems and constant visits to the washroom.

I'm off to take the night ferry back to Dar and then northward by bus. Just came back from the beaches in northern Zanzibar Island. Long stretches of white sand, warm blue water and plam trees pretty much sums up a relaxing time. Places to stay and eat there was a bit more expensive.

Leakage in Tanzania

Leakage. A fellow backpacker perfectly coined the term. When you are ripped off by a taxi driver, leave something behind in a hostel, get overcharged for a soft drink or bus ticket, or exchange money at the wrong rate in the black market. There's always leakage when you travel. Those inevitable monetary or material loses. For example, I got pick-pocketed a couple of days ago either on the crowded mini-bus or more likely at the train station. When I got on the train and took my wallet out (which is attached to my belt) to pay for something, no money. Just an empty pouch staring back at me. Leakage.

I arrived in Dar Es Salaam (or more commonly known as "Dar" by the locals) yesterday by train from Mbeya. The route actually begins in Kapiri Mposhi, Zambia and crosses eastward across that country and Tanzania, and through the Selous Game Reserve. It's one of the great train rides in Africa. Where else can you ride on a Chinese-made train with Swahili music pumping out of the loud speakers while catching a glimpse of passing baboons, impalas, zebras, widebeests, elephants and giraffes, or share a greasy chicken with fellow passengers or take in the mountain scenery, banana plantations and village huts.

Dar is the unofficial capital city of Tanzania and a blend of Arabic, Indian and African influences. Morning calls to prayer can be heard from the mosques as minarets poke the skyline. Samosas and chicken biriani can be easily bought. Men in ties and women in high heels rush to work while the beggers line the main post office and the traffic of honking cars and mini-buses congest the streets. Indian women wrapped in saris and the occasional Masai men wrapped in colourful red blankets walk pass men huddled in street corners sipping coffee. That is essentially Dar to me.

Other than walking around, eating well, and sleeping in a hovel, or visiting the nearby beaches, there's not much to do in Dar. I'm off to take the ferry to Zanzibar Island.

Next Port of Call

Having crossed over the Tanzanian border from Malawi this morning to the hilly town of Mbeya, the Southern African leg of my journey comes to an end and my travels in East Africa begins.

While in Malawi, I found the people friendly, talkative and confident in dealing with tourists. Malawi is not blessed with mineral resources or oil, and with its' main industries in agriculture (rubber trees and tea) and timber, the country has made efforts to foster tourism. Malawi does have an advantage over its' neighbours, it has had peace and has never had any civil war or conflicts with other countries. It also has tranquil Lake Malawi which practically spans the whole eastern side of the country. Makeshift huts, wooden canoes and fishing villages dot the lakeside and the fresh water Chambo fish is particularly tasty.

I came to Malawi to see the lake and to ride the infamous passenger ship Ilala. Built in Scotland, the Ilala has been faithfully churging up and down Lake Malawi from Monkey Bay to Chilumba ferrying people, cargo and its' resident cockroaches on a weekly basis for over fifty-five years. This passenger ship is the lifeline to some of the isolated communties on the islands by being the sole means of transport and supply. There are only a couple of wharfs for the ferry to dock, so when it comes to port, the smaller motor boats get lowered and it's done the way it's been done for the past fifty years, ferrying people and goods to and from the mainland. Often this takes several hours and at times, there is no dock, so workers piggyback the people and luggage from the motorboat to shore (myself and backpack included). I found the boat ride relaxing and I enjoying the sun and scenery during the day, and sleeping on the wooden deck at night... until it started to rain of'course.

If you do swim in Lake Malawi, there is a worm pararsite in the water called Bilharzia. The parasite comes from the fresh water snails, and if left untreated crawls under your skin and the worm even breaks through, while damaging your liver and bowels. Nasty. I recommend just going to any pharmacy in Malawi and tell them you have been swimming in the lake. The medication to get rid of this unpleasant parasite is readily available and cheaper in Malawi then back at home.

"Just get it done." That's my attitude when I'm riding in cramped mini-vans and the backs of pick-ups and trucks. It may sound adventurous riding on top of sacks of beans and corn maize, packed with people and luggage, shitting and pissing chickens, ripe mangos, leaky babies, raw fish and tettered goats trying to eat your bag. But riding on an overloaded truck with a busted suspension and the sun scorching down or the rain falling, and it soon loses its' galmour. "Just get it done", because I've resigned myself to the fact that this is the most common way of traveling. More long, dusty African roads await my arrival...

An Island...

Like Portugal´s national poet, Luis de Camoes, once wrote about the Ilha de Mocambique, it is like ‘an unique woman, lying sensously in a state of abandon...’ My impression of the former capital of the Portuguese East Africa Colony is ... faded grandeur. Old stone buildings sitting in disrepair and empty in the sun surrounded by the turquoise sea. Scrape the surface and can see the glimmer this place once had. Mosiac tiles below overgrown grass, children playing under arches that haven´t been painted for thirty years, or families living in ornate stone buildings with no roofs. The old town feels like a ‘museum and ghost town’ with old buildings and the large fort perched on the north end. While on the other side is ‘reed town’, alive and full of locals. The island´s population mushroomed from 1200 to 12000 during the civil war in the 1980´s and 1990´s, as they sought refuge here. Reed town is where the majority of the population lives and it is very much Adrican. The island is quite small, only 3 kilometers long and 500 meters wide so wandering around is easy. The locals are friendly and the kids love their pictures being taken. Without T.V.s or video games, the kids just invent games to play with a few loose marbles and bottle caps, a tire and stick, wrapped up plastic bags as a soccer ball or shells and stones. Despite the beach being dirty (as the locals use the sea as both a sewage and garbage dump), the whole island has atmosphere and I recommend staying there for a few days to ease into the island life.

I have enjoyed Mozambique, whether it´s going through the countryside in a bus or behind in truck, watching goats being herded, people carrying sacks, wood and T.V.s on their heads or farmers plowing the land, or going along the coast with the beautiful beaches full of palm trees and warm waters in Tofo and Vilankulo. Or just sipping some fine coffee in the cities.

I´ve also enjoyed the food, a delicate blend of Portuguese, Indian and African. I probably had my best meal in Africa so far in Maputo (although the octopus curry last night came close). Just thinking about it makes me salivate. The crab the size of my face with meat so thick I thought I was eating chicken. The curry, creme based with enough spice to make it flavorful without overwhelming it. The rice, chewy and slightly oily, and baked to perfection to absorb the curry. Spiced with hunger, this dish went down quickly.

One big downside to Mozambique is the fast and vicious mosquitos here. Sometimes I don´t even know the sneaky bastard have bitten me. I am so glad I brought a mosquito net and Larium pills. Can you believe more people in Africa die from the mosquitos than from anything else. The next most dangerous thing (after man) is the Hippo. About two to three times the number of people die in Africa from malaria than they do from AIDS, which is high enough (2.2 million in 2003). Just in Mozambque alone the infancy / child mortality rate is a staggering 25 percent. A lot of that due to malaria. A combination of poverty, lack of education and poor medical availibilty doesn´t help.

I am back in the industrial city of Napula after spending three days at Ilha de Mocambique and will taking the train to Malawi tomorrow morning. Good night all.