This DARn Town

Kenya Airways flight for Nairobi from Mahe
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I arrived in Dar Es Salaam on Kenya Airways at nightfall and discovered that the hotel I reserved that was to be on the beach in town was actually over one hour's drive and would cost me $90 USD to get to.  That was not happening so I asked a taxi driver to take me to a cheap place downtown.  We ended up at the Econolodge.  This is not the American company but a 5 story plain jane with a good hot shower and powerful fan for 15 usd.  As is my traveling habit if it ain't dirty or buggy then I can deal.  It even comes with toast and tea in the AM.  It seems to be a cross between backpacker lodge and east African businessman's hotel.  Obviously these guys are not on travel expenses.

carved into the hostel elevator
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In the AM I bargained a taxi driver down 50 cents to take me 5 blocks to a tourist information center.  There I got a xeroxed map of downtown Dar which had numbers of locations on sites but no legend to tell what the numbers meant.  The good information the lady at the counter did give me was just keep walking down the road and in 10 minutes you arrive at the National Museum.

Dar turns out to be a very doable town.  Most everything you want to see is within a short walk.  There is really good Bar-B-Que or Berbecue as they spell it.  ATMs are accessible and in plenty.  Things are generally inexpensive.  The people are too polite in general to harass a tourist.  They are curious but only at a glance.  Even the many cripples on the sidewalks speak in a fairly quiet tone.

I wonder if the East Indians feel a bit defensive here
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The city as is the country contains a great variety of peoples.  The many tribes of East Africa, The swahili people who are a mix of African and going back a thousand years Omani and Persian, There is a tribe called the Ngoni who moved from South Africa in the 1840's and settled in Tanzania.

The history includes traders from China and Greece.  Invaders from Arabia and Portugal.  Colonizers from Germany and Britain.

I learned all this from my visit to the National Museum.  After that fiasco of a National Museum in Colombo I was ready to give up on the institution.  The Tanzanian version is humble but well designed, educational without being daunting and downright accessible.  There is an excellent evolution of mankind area.  In it you can view some of the actual hominid skulls found in Olduvai by Leaky.  There is a wonderful family tree of humans and apes.

One of the real hominid skulls in the National Museum
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Upstairs, which I had all to myself, is the history of Tanzania.  Going back to trader references from Greeks to the bed of the Sultan of Zanzibar to the pipe and rifle of the last German governor to the presidential desk of Julius Nyere who is the father figure of the nation.  I was surprised that I could wander around these national treasures including objects from great chieftans of the past and even a piece of moon rock given by the US in 1972 without an attendant in sight.

A natural history museum is in the next building.  There one can see a stuffed Dugong and a very scary preserved ( kind of) Coalcanth.  Along with various tribal artifacts including drums, beaded work and certain warnings acted out in clay such as 'no doing your sister because you will make a monster baby' and 'be careful of white people.  They can see farther because they have binoculars.'

The Sultan's bed - I wonder who helped him up to it.
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Between the buildings sits a simple memorial to the US embassy bombing.  Placed in a cement base are the remains of a bicycle and other fragments as well as a sculpted figure of a woman with no arms which represents a real woman who lost both her arms and her husband in the blast.

I walked into another building unknowingly and was told I was in the city hall which was the original national assembly.  A fellow working there asked me point blank if I would finance his education in the US.  I said "No, I don't think I can do that."  He said "Ok, thank you for visiting Tanzania." and went about his business.

One of the displays showing the slave trade
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I walked to the nearby Holiday Inn which is not your father's Holiday Inn.  This place has some pretentions.  And this is when being white is all it takes - I stroll in wearing a grubby Saigon Beer T, my baggy shorts that have faded and a pair of ankle socks in need of some serious bleaching.  Not one staff member and there were 3 just lined up at the door, even took notice.  I was expecting the usual "May I help you?" euphemism code phrase for 'you really don't belong here do you."  It was a white customer who gave me a withering,'how did you get in here' gaze.  I gave that bitch an instafreeze look that knocked her nipples right off her tits and into her fruit salad - And I got a damn map of the city in color just for the asking.  Then I took my oh so white ass right out the door.

Very scary dead things
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Next I am approached by a guy who appears to be wearing a woman's sleeveless blue sundress, a red patterned shawl, grey tevas and carrying a stick which has a knob on the end very reminiscent of a man's ball sack.  He says his name is Governor or so I thought at first.  As we converse I find out his name is Gavana and he is Masai.  Next thing you know I have a guide around town.  He takes me to the fish market.  Here you get the full experience.  From bringing off the boat in woven baskets to cleaning and salting.  Then fish are sold on long tables with a crowd gathered around offering prices.  It is the fish equivalent of the floor of the New York Stock Exchange.  And the women are dressed in the most abundant colors and patterns.  I was definitely getting the weird eye for taking pictures but my Masai friend said not to worry.  Then you see people deep frying or grilling the fish for selling.  A young lady let me eat a sample fresh from the fryer.

Got to have a picture of African women toting stuff on their heads
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A few steps along and your at the shell market.  All the vast array of Indian ocean shells.  Beautiful cowries, conches, murex.  Types and kinds I have never seen.

With a Masai guide I had no problem with just walking on and on. We walked past shivering addicts, The Movenpick Hotel, men hauling huge bags of coal on their backs and the Prime Ministers palace where I got busted for taking pictures.  What is the proper response to a machine gun toting green uniformed Tanzanian guard who is wearing a cross between an Australian bush hat and a beret with a red pom-pom on top when he says "And who told you you could take a picture here? There is no taking pictures in this area.  What do you think you are doing taking pictures in the Prime Minister's palace?"  This is another example of why having a Masai friend is a good thing.  He didn't find the guy intimidating at all.  He didn't even allow the guy to hit me up for a payoff.  We walked off and I showed him the picture I was supposed to erase.  He thought it pretty funny.  In fact he has a really good sense of humor.

The fish stock exchange
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We lunched at the YMCA which seemed a bit odd to me but was cheap and was acceptable to a man whose ancestry prefered cow's blood straight from the vein.  It rained all afternoon and Gavana explained his many plans for the future.  These included coming to America, recording a song and buying a tractor for his farm - none were actually in any relationship to each other.