bongo a go-go

It was only when the plane landed in Dar Es Salaam airport that i suddenly realised i was going to Africa. better than that, i was already there! After six months of waiting i had grown used to the wait. the heat was the first thing i noticed. I stood sweltering in my high tops, boiling my feet, for a good thirty minutes before i was able to change into my sandals. After being greeted by the TYC officials (Tanzanian Youth Coalition, the Dar version of Foyer) we piled into an old, second hand Japanese minivan. The city is over populated with these small vehicles, or rather "dalla dallas" as they are called, which serve as the local bus system, and have no particular route, and only cost 25p a ride. You actually have to phsyically fight your way through to get onto one. If you want to queue, go back to England. Lucky for us and our oversized luggage, this one had been booked. No air con was available but the windows were sufficient as long as it kept moving. I peered out the window (or, rather, jammed my head right out to get as much air effect as possible) as we pull out of the airport and in the first minute I see three men on bicyles loaded with hundreds of eggs. It is seven in the morning and they are out-a-delivering.
To get a good idea of Dar life, one only needs a short bus trip down a main road. A two lained road with a seperate dirt track on either side (for the bicycles) seperated by a small stretch of grass and palm trees . These grassy bits are taken up by small huts and stalls, fruit carts, corn sellers, actual smalls plots of corn, the odd bike repair man, the occasional goat, hen or cockerel, garden furniture for sale as well as hudreds of animal statues and plants (i even saw three huge fish tanks filled with tropical fish,) drinking dens, women gossiping and men playing checkers. As you approach one of Dars millions of markets, the stalls and people thicken, the rate of crime goes up and you find yourself clutching onto your belongings for dear life. The people are poor (60% of women live in complete poverty) but everywhere you go life is vibrant. Off the main road, down the side streets, children are playing everywhere, women are braiding each others hair, and people hang outside tiny colourful barber shops (the size of Brighton an Hove beach Huts) and soda pop stalls . They smile and wave and chat to you and teach you swahili as you walk down the street. Being Muzungu (white person) we are novelties to be poked at, but they will also chat freely with tanzanian strangers. Strangers have no qualms with talking to each other here and children are completely free to roam and pull faces at you. Also tanzanian toddlers are so cute, I might just have to do a Madonna.
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Next Blog: 3 pounds to watch Ivory coast vs Tanania- The madness and hayhem of an international football match in Dar.