“All Aboard!”
Tanzanian Train Ride – Dar Salaam to Mbeya
Tanzanian Train Ride – Dar Salaam to Mbeya
For the past 2 months, bus rides have been synonymous with African travel but today I embark on a new transportation endeavor…the train! Traveling from Tanzania’s coastal metropolitan, Dar Salaam, to its southern heartland, the town of Mbeya - a proposed 20-hour journey.
Excited for something other then the cramped, roller coaster ride bus journeys I’d grown so accustomed to, myself, Amber, Nofar and Emanuel (travel buddies from Zanzibar) eagerly crossed the station threshold and entered a parallel universe. The dust clouds, overbearing touts and stinky rubbish tolerated on most bus journeys, graciously disappeared, leaving us with an orderly station, blissfully, “tout free”, waiting platform and prompt departure.
As my posse of 4 climbed aboard the aging, metal beast, we were welcomed by a narrow aisle overflowing with camera happy Japanese, staunch German tour groups and poorly positioned local passengers hanging out the aisle windows. Squeezing through the chaos we pushed towards our respective first class cabins - a whopping $3 step up from second-class sleeper. Anxiously entering our berth, we lasted all of 5 minutes before surfacing for air. It was sweltering! The fans positioned in each cabin were nothing but ploys. Broken representations of the wind that could circulate within, given they ever functioned in the first place. “Ladies, this may be a long trip.”
Scampering outside and onto the now, almost abandoned, platform, we enjoyed our last breaths of cool, fresh air before, TOOT…TOOT!! Time to go!
Excited for something other then the cramped, roller coaster ride bus journeys I’d grown so accustomed to, myself, Amber, Nofar and Emanuel (travel buddies from Zanzibar) eagerly crossed the station threshold and entered a parallel universe. The dust clouds, overbearing touts and stinky rubbish tolerated on most bus journeys, graciously disappeared, leaving us with an orderly station, blissfully, “tout free”, waiting platform and prompt departure.
As my posse of 4 climbed aboard the aging, metal beast, we were welcomed by a narrow aisle overflowing with camera happy Japanese, staunch German tour groups and poorly positioned local passengers hanging out the aisle windows. Squeezing through the chaos we pushed towards our respective first class cabins - a whopping $3 step up from second-class sleeper. Anxiously entering our berth, we lasted all of 5 minutes before surfacing for air. It was sweltering! The fans positioned in each cabin were nothing but ploys. Broken representations of the wind that could circulate within, given they ever functioned in the first place. “Ladies, this may be a long trip.”
Scampering outside and onto the now, almost abandoned, platform, we enjoyed our last breaths of cool, fresh air before, TOOT…TOOT!! Time to go!
Slowly chugging out of the station, it wasn’t long before the cityscapes of Dar were replaced with country motifs of rural Tanzania. Spinning out below the clickity clack of rusted metal wheels, our pace at times, was passable by even a snail. Children ran to greet us, smiling and waving wildly, from their humble trackside abodes while mothers continued their daily tasks of laundry and cooking without hardly batting an eye. Aside from human scenery, the natural backdrop was jaw dropping! Toggling between leafy green junglescapes and dry, arid savannahs, each bend revealed a new world. Iconic acacia trees contrasted against powder blue skies, distant mountains rose through the fuzzy heat and winding rivers emerged vegetation’s only dry season lifeline. |
After an hour of effortless window entertainment, Nofar and Emanuel returned to Amber and I’s cabin, but our annoying, know-it-all cabin mate, thwarted our plans of enjoying the cabin together. Warning us of theft, dangerous window jams, and undrinkable water, our Zambian cabin mate only opened her mouth to play Mother Hen and my shelf life had been reached within the first 15-minutes. Making the exec decision to vacate our cabin, we moved into the dining cart.
Selecting one of 8 metal tables, the only one available, we proudly displayed a very non-African dinner. Crackers, cheese, chocolate and red wine. The only problem, cups. Wino MacGyver to the rescue! Collecting our empty water bottles, I sliced through the middle of each and around the perimeter, to create our evening’s makeshift glasses. Pouring lukewarm red into the four cups, we toasted our new friendships with a hearty, “L’Chaim” (Hebrew, for “Cheers”) before tucking into our long desired cheese and crackers.
Peeling back the sticky cheese wrapper, a partially melted, plastic-like hunk revealed itself. Carefully slicing thick, gooey pieces for everyone’s delight, each piece resulted in hopelessly gummy fingers. A problem easily solved with water, that is, if we had water. Another anomaly on multi-day trains trips, no water in the bathroom taps, showers and even train kitchen. Liquid sanitizer to the rescue. |
Cards and ongoing conversation kept us occupied while tepid red wine danced on our tongues and it wasn’t until an unexpected, middle-of-nowhere stop, that the reality of our train journey kicked in.
Grinding to a halt, we assumed the stop was planned. That was until almost an hour had passed and we hadn’t moved an inch. Heat once again poured into the motionless cart and while other table inhabitants enjoyed slight breezes through their open windows, we struggled to even open ours. The locking mechanism was broken and we needed something to prop it open. Noticing an array of broken broom heads wedged into the other windows, I went in search of our own. No luck. It wasn’t until asking a sower sap rail attendant for the 5th time, that our prop arrived.
Conceding to the transportation gods, we continued our card game, assuming the train would carry on soon. Wrong. 1 hour, 2, 3, 4, 5 hours… “Was this a scheduled stop”, we inquired, but no one could provide a straight answer. We were forced to rely on Indian train protocol, “Asking yields no answers and answers only yield new questions.”
(As we later learned, our train delay was due to another trains malfunction. The engine blew and it had no means of moving off the track to let us pass. So attendants had to remove our train engine, transfer it to theirs, move the train off the track and return the engine to our train before proceeding. Guess we can never escape, “Africa Time”.
Frustrated with the elongated and unknown stoppage, we all huffed to bed. Surely it would be cooler there. Wrong! Unable to sleep, I lay there in a pool of my own sweat, slowly roasting away in our metal canister. Mosquitos also complicated sleep. Alighting with my sweaty skin, ease of stagnant air flight, and lack of mosquito netting. Ouch!
Tossing and turning on the thin bunk, it wasn’t until our train lurched into motion that I fell into a deep sleep. Relishing the warm, yet refreshing breeze the nights silver lining came after 3 am when the cabin temperature finally cooled enough for a blanket.
“Shingapi, Mango, Shingapi!” Cranking open the rickety cabin window, our crazy Zambian roomie barked a cornucopia of 6 am breakfast requests just inches from my startled ears. Dozens of salespeople raced to the window offering their fares for, “cheaper price madam”, but it wasn’t until asking nearly everyone on the platform, that she decided an onboard meal was preferred. Demanding access to our cabins, window-side table, crazy lady practically forced Amber to sit up and move over - even though it was Amber’s personal sleeping bunk. Smacking away on eggs and toast between slurps of African tea, I had to practice severe restraint from throwing her out the window.
Grinding to a halt, we assumed the stop was planned. That was until almost an hour had passed and we hadn’t moved an inch. Heat once again poured into the motionless cart and while other table inhabitants enjoyed slight breezes through their open windows, we struggled to even open ours. The locking mechanism was broken and we needed something to prop it open. Noticing an array of broken broom heads wedged into the other windows, I went in search of our own. No luck. It wasn’t until asking a sower sap rail attendant for the 5th time, that our prop arrived.
Conceding to the transportation gods, we continued our card game, assuming the train would carry on soon. Wrong. 1 hour, 2, 3, 4, 5 hours… “Was this a scheduled stop”, we inquired, but no one could provide a straight answer. We were forced to rely on Indian train protocol, “Asking yields no answers and answers only yield new questions.”
(As we later learned, our train delay was due to another trains malfunction. The engine blew and it had no means of moving off the track to let us pass. So attendants had to remove our train engine, transfer it to theirs, move the train off the track and return the engine to our train before proceeding. Guess we can never escape, “Africa Time”.
Frustrated with the elongated and unknown stoppage, we all huffed to bed. Surely it would be cooler there. Wrong! Unable to sleep, I lay there in a pool of my own sweat, slowly roasting away in our metal canister. Mosquitos also complicated sleep. Alighting with my sweaty skin, ease of stagnant air flight, and lack of mosquito netting. Ouch!
Tossing and turning on the thin bunk, it wasn’t until our train lurched into motion that I fell into a deep sleep. Relishing the warm, yet refreshing breeze the nights silver lining came after 3 am when the cabin temperature finally cooled enough for a blanket.
“Shingapi, Mango, Shingapi!” Cranking open the rickety cabin window, our crazy Zambian roomie barked a cornucopia of 6 am breakfast requests just inches from my startled ears. Dozens of salespeople raced to the window offering their fares for, “cheaper price madam”, but it wasn’t until asking nearly everyone on the platform, that she decided an onboard meal was preferred. Demanding access to our cabins, window-side table, crazy lady practically forced Amber to sit up and move over - even though it was Amber’s personal sleeping bunk. Smacking away on eggs and toast between slurps of African tea, I had to practice severe restraint from throwing her out the window.
Managing to fall back asleep until 9 am, the scorching sun finally pulled Amber and I from slumber. Ordering two, ever-so- sweet, “African teas” (loose black tea boiled in milk and sugar) we kicked back and watched the morning light dance off the quickly passing hillsides.
Knock, knock! Time for breakfast girls. Returning to our beloved dining cart, we rummaged through our coveted food bag for sustenance. Let’s see cashews, melted chocolate brownies and a few bruised apples. Breakfast of champions.
Knock, knock! Time for breakfast girls. Returning to our beloved dining cart, we rummaged through our coveted food bag for sustenance. Let’s see cashews, melted chocolate brownies and a few bruised apples. Breakfast of champions.
And this is where we continue to sit. 21 hours in and 1 hour past our scheduled Mbeya arrival time. Who knows when we’ll arrive but at least we have, “Spartagus”, the mini-series. Historically, guy movies are not my cup of tea but there was something about Spartagus’ rock hard abs and god-like face that pulled Nofar and I in. Glued to the small, grainy television at the end of the cabin, we enjoying hours of soft core porn with a dining cart full of men. Sure it was a bit awkward in the beginning but after the 4th or 5th episode we were immune to the nudity and loads of slightly turned on men sitting directly behind us. Hell, it would be a lie to say I wasn’t a bit turned on. So there you have it, the cure for a long train ride…rock hard abs, fight scenes and passion.
Oh yah, back to reality. The wind is still hot, my chair maintains a sweat drenched status and we’re rationing our last 10 cashews but no matter how this trip ends, it still clenches my favorite transportation mechanism thus far. No broken tarmac, unexpected speed bumps and blaring horns, just a simple bed, dining cart and freedom to use the loo whenever I damn well please. The cost, a few dollars more then the bus. The time, almost double what a bus journey would take. But the experience, unforgettable! |