I had checked in the morning to see if there was an opening in First class, to no avail. The reporting time was 17:00. I spent the day getting some shopping done for the trip and also visited the fish market that I had noticed when I first arrived. It looked far, somewhat at another shore of the lake, but ended up only a twenty-minute walk. For hygienic reasons my diet is a little restricted right now. I cut out milk products (too many power outages) and meat (not sure about how they handle it - probably not EU standards, while on the other hand I am sure it is mostly very fresh; picture a chicken walking into a restaurant and it'll end up on the "plat du jour" in no time). I decided to keep fish (samaki) in the diet, but after seeing the fish market, I may get second thoughts, too.
Fish was piled up some 3-4 feet high. Workers were handling it while standing on it - some barefoot, some with shoes. Vultures and other pesky birds everywhere, not to forget about all the flies hanging out. One guy was loading a trailer. Oops, there went one fish past the trailer, right into the dirt. With all that keep in mind the fish here is eaten with the skin (and, as mentioned before, with eyeballs), so yes, I was a bit concerned with people standing on the fish). Talked to a nice fellow and he assured me that that fish is mostly sold to Uganda and the northern parts of South Africa (huh? Would that be North South Africa???). Alrighty then....
Since January first is a holiday most restaurants and shops were closed, but fortunately the pizza place was open. So I went there for the third time and filled up my stomach. At 17:00 I headed over to the train station. Tons of people there, but nowhere to report. The ticket booths were closed. People kept telling me about a black board where the names would be listed (including if I got my upgrade to first class), but I couldn't find it. There was no train either, which I figured was a bad sign for a 18:00pm departure. Soon the news made the round that there was some problem and the departure wouldn't be until 21:30.
Eventually I found the list. It wasn't posted until maybe 20:00 or so. I didn't make the upgrade to first class. Oh well. There were no lights in the train, but at some point I decided to just board and go to bed. One guy was already there, but I still got the chance to claim a bed on the lowest level. I am always afraid of falling out of an high altitude bed. Just like in a Euro-sleeper, there were three bunk beds on top of each other, on each side, for a total of six. Eventually the others came too, carefully making sure to shine their flash lights always straight into my eyes, just to ensure that I wouldn't go to sleep before the party ended (or started?). Finally - I think around 23:00 - we started moving.
I woke up to a nice sunrise while lying in my comfy (?) bed. We were in Shinyanga. It is hard to belive that the train must have taken about seven hours to cover a distance that took the bus maybe three or four. Because my luggage, albeit locked, was sitting underneath my bed, I felt a bit uncomfortable going to breakfast, although once we got moving again I figured at least nobody could jump in and take the bag and jump out. The breakfast car was two cars up. They served sausage, omelette and bread, together with tea. The tea was pre-sweetened and the plate of food included a big hump of salt. My brother would be in heaven, but I am not too fond of either and learned to order my teas "bila sukari." However, this time it was already stirred in. Sigh.
I spent most of the rest of the day on my bed, sometimes falling asleep, sometimes reading, but mostly just watching Tanzania fly by. It was just fascinating to see the different landscapes and I am glad I was sitting in a comfortable train and not in a bus, where half of my concentration is wasted on not getting bus sick. In Tabora we could get off and have lunch. It didn't matter that we were already five or so hours behind schedule. If there was to be a two-hour break it was going to be a two-hour break. I had met a nice fella during breakfast and we went to lunch together. I had of course again thoughts (first, second and thirds) about my luggage. In the end I had to trust the guy who was staying back. I have learned that most Tanzanians are very trustworthy, and especially when you travel together with them. Since I cut out the meat my lunch was rice and beans. There was plenty of it and I can't believe they only charged TZS800!
After stocking up on water our journey finally continued. I skipped dinner, as I had bought a loaf of bread in Mwanza. At something like 2:00 or maybe 3:00 in the morning we were in Dodoma. Since I had slept a bit during day time and went to bed ridiculously early I got out for a bit to stretch. When the train started again I was watching the stars in the night sky. It may sound boring but I was super happy by a simple pleasure like that.
In Dodoma a few guys had gotten off and a few on. I started talking to one "newcomer", but of course my Swahili only gets me so far. He asked me if I spoke French. Man, I can't tell you what a welcome change that was!!! He was from Congo and a really nice guy. We chatted a lot. We stood side by side on the window and watched the locals try to sell all their goodies at all those tiny little villages along the way. Depending on the region there was an abundance of supply in onions or coconuts or bananas or pineapples. There were kids, some not older than four or five, selling stuff (I have now idea how they would be able to reach up to the window, as even teenagers had to really make themselves long to get the money and give the food - sometimes the customers just throw the money out the window and the salesperson has to find it in the dirt). At one stop a guy made a last minute decision (even by my standards) to buy bananas when the train was already rolling! The lady who had them started running, got to the window but had no energy left to lift the yellow fruit up, so had to abandon her efforts under the laughter of about everyone else around her (she was smiling, too). And one of the very little ones, who managed to sell all his bananas in one scoop, ran like madman, celebrating like a football player who just scored the decisive goal in a final, showing his money to some of his peers, then ran off.
Paul from Congo and I were watching all this together and it was just so entertaining. Between the stops we would look at the pretty country side, sometimes interrupted by our conversation in French. At one stop I noticed he threw two plastic bottles out the window, right where a child was standing. She picked up the two bottles he tossed. I remembered that some people liked to collect those and got out my empty one. Paul directed me to throw it to the other kid that had appeared (he was so small I didn't even think he would know what to do with a plastic bottle). He picked it up happily. Then I saw more and more people throw bottles and more and more kids appear. They still ran (many barefoot on uneven, unpaved and rocky ground, I may add) as the train was already moving.
Then Paul told me we had to get of in Morongoro to catch buses. A freight train wreck was blocking the tracks. Paul, Peter - a friend of Paul - and I set down at a "cafe". When the first buses arrived, most passengers started to run, scrambling for position and fighting to get in line. Police was at the scene quickly to keep somewhat of an order! It was surreal. I am glad that Peter and Paul stayed relaxed. We kept sitting in the shade, while most passengers now had to wait in the baking sun. The boarding process took forever and not all buses had arrived yet. We watched as the police kept shuffling "line cutters" out of the queues. Even local TV decided it was worth a story! It was fun to watch several hundred stooges make fools of themselves. Then a bus parked somewhere else and we decided to go for that one. There was already a line, but we managed to get in, albeit with a lot of work. Other people kept pushing in from the side. Fortunately this turned out to be a bus that also had many police officers already boarded. I had noticed them in the train earlier, and they kept things somewhat at bay, though I am not sure that even we cut some people off, simply by trying to prevent others in cutting and following police orders on how to get into the bus.
Once inside I had to fight through towards the end of the bus with my overly wide backpack. People started putting baskets filled with chicken everywhere in the aisle. I sure hope they remembered which baskets were theirs, for the chickens all sounded and looked the same! I felt like I had just managed to fight through the front row of a Metallica concert. I was soaked in sweat, but as I sat I had a big grin on my face, seeing all the pushing and shoving and the chickens and roosters in baskets, some trying to hop out. After all what I just had witnessed was super comical and something not pat of any main stream tourist program.
We finally left, after a four-hour wait and with three hours left to Dar. The train wouldn't have been slower. There was a moment when everybody got up and looked to the right. Aha, checking out the freight train wreckage. I was amazed, btw, that our train didn't derail. Frequently it was bouncing up and down so much I thought we were going over speed bumps!
All the police personal on the bus didn't help and we got weighed along the route. Fortunately we passed - thank goodness those chickens were all malnourished.
The traffic in Dar was like LA. Sometimes we stood for minutes w/o moving. Maybe the train would have been even faster in the end...
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