Notes from Dar es Salaam (01/24/01)

I won't lie, Dar es Salaam is not the nicest city I've visited. It is dirty and there are few buildings that are pleasing to the eye. There is the occasional mosque which is well maintained, and there are quite a few under construction.

Nevertheless, the city bustles. Everyone negotiates. When I showed even the slightest interest in something, the vendor would keep lowering the price to keep me from walking away. Of course, this meant that I had to negotiate EVERYTHING to make sure I was getting a fair price. I was soon as bold as the street vendors. One offered me a belt for $10, an outrageous price, I countered with $1, and we settled at $2!

In Dar there is a large Arab (and Arabic-speaking population), a large Indian (and Hindi- and Punjabi- speaking) population, and a large African (various tribal languages) population--and there are many Muslims from each ethinic group.

Thus, Swahili is the language that binds this diverse group of people together. Virtually everyone speaks Swahili well--Tanzanians are known for speaking excellent Swahili, whereas Kenyans tend to have more English speakers.

Actually I would describe the city as heavily Muslim--many, many mosques, and the majority of men wearing a fez. This made finding a decent pub a lot more difficult than you might think in a place the size of Dar.

I was staying at the Safari Inn, a busy 1-2 star 4-story hotel in the heart of the city just off of Libya Street. It is one of the best places to stay for the money and is quite popular with travellers. About $10 a night for a single.

The little back alley that leads to the motel is filled with people working on their cars. And I'm not talking tune-ups, I'm talking engines pulled out, transmissions in pieces, guys welding truck frames! Well, you can imagine the sights and smells that greeted me each morning as I ventured off into the city.

Then there was a problem with being a white person walking around Dar. Basically, it was eminently obvious that I was a traveller from out of town. Most white people who live here have a car and are not walking around the city. Of course, there are those that work for the various NGOs, but they usually have a good handle on Swahili and can dismiss the hangers-on more easily than I could.

I was constantly approached by young men, saying "Jambo" (Hello). They persistently wanted to know where I was going and what I planned to do. I soon learned that no matter what my day entailed, they were going to assure me that they could get me whatever it was I needed for less money.

I spent some time with a German couple backpacking around Africa, and we joked that "Jambo" meant, "I want to sell you something," or "Give me money."

Perhaps I sound a bit cynical here, but to be honest, I was becoming a bit cynical. I had spent 80+ days of being constantly exposed to people in desparate need, looking at me with eyes that said, "Certainly you can spare a little something for me."

I just want to give you an honest sense of what it is like to wander around the city.

I made a decision very early on that I was not going to hand out money to anyone who did not provide me with a product or service. First, I am trying to give a little something back to Africa through the support of Save the Children. Second, I think handing out money sets a bad precedent except to those that are extremely disabled. And mainly, the number of needy people is overwhelming! It is just easier for my conscience to politely refuse all askers rather than have to be constantly making a moral decision about who to help and who not to.

And the agressiveness and frequency of the people in the streets of Dar was taking its toll--I was struggling to maintain a veneer of good humor.

Nevertheless, the people I dealt with in the various shops and restaurants, the people gainfully employed who were not worried about where their next meal was coming from--they were extremely polite, fair, and honest. And they would go out of their way to help me with whatever I needed, even if it meant sending me to another shop.

I just happened to be staying a stone's throw from the best motorcycle shop in town--in all of Tanzania for that matter--Tuk Tuk (named after the sound a motorcycle makes). This place was no bigger than an overgrown hotdog stand, but they had a bit of everything!

The guys at Tuk Tuk loved seeing the beefer (the moonriders' pet name for the KLR 650). They had a cheap replacement rear tire for me but offered to have a friend of theirs who flies for Air Tanzania, bring a good tire from Johannesburg if I wanted. They were genuinely excited about my trip and practically gave me a spare chain.

I can't begin to capture all that I took in during my time in Dar, but one thing that I really enjoyed was the food. There were quite a few restaurants that were really cheap with tasty dishes--particularly Indian restaurants. And they have coconuts for 20 cents that rival the best I have had in Trinidad.

After spending a couple of days in Dar es Salaam, I was over my cold and ready to head off to Zanzibar--just the sound of it was enticing and the Germans and I decided to head over there together. I had heard that the streets were quite narrow and decided to leave the bike behind (in the well-guarded confines of the Safari Inn.

Oh yeah, did I mention that Dar es Salaam is about as humid a city as I've ever been to. Showering is totally futile.