Traveling to Tanzania

Written on April 11, 2008 from Dodoma, Tanzania

By Max Anders

Leaving Kenya after only a week felt like startling from a dream; an abrupt feeling of something unfinished. Despite the excitement of exploring more of East Africa, I felt a reluctance (albeit undeserved after only a week) to press on. It is strange how quickly a place can grow on you.
But as soon as I got over the air sickness of the turbulent little jet and fixed my gaze on the scenery below, I began to feel better. Face glued to the small hard plastic window, I watched Nairobi disappear and waited for Tanzania. It is a strikingly beautiful journey; the space and textures, perhaps, made more dramatic looking down from a buzzing jet. I watched the round shadows of clouds darken the vibrant green and red landscape below. Making shapes out of them, I felt a bit backwards…or upside down. The plane stopped in Kilimanjaro just long enough for a seemingly overworked and somewhat rude customs official to admit us to Tanzania with a sigh and a wave of her hand. Reboarding the same small plane and taking off over the mountain made invisible by the thick clouds, our next stop was Haydom. Landing on the “makeshift runway” (an expansive dirt field in the middle of nowhere) our plane was received by the unofficial “air traffic controllers” (a large crowd of locals gawking, smiling, and waving).
We arrived in Dodoma, the capitol of Tanzania, in the late afternoon. It’s my understanding that Dodoma, despite its official title of capitol city, suffers from a slight inferiority complex towards its larger and coastal sibling Dar es Salaam. All family feuds aside, the Dodoma I have seen is a wonderful and beautiful city. Our arrival at the very end of the rainy season has allowed us to see a rare, green and flower-filled Dodoma. Even Rowland, VEF’s training director and a proud Kenyan, has repeatedly remarked how he has never seen Dodoma so alive and colorful. I love the electric orange sun dropping behind small mountains made of large boulders that rise up from fields of white and purple flowers.

And while I don’t feel qualified to speak on anything other than first impressions, I feel like Tanzania is set to a slower, more mellow pace than Kenya. As a Mazungu (white person), I feel like I draw less attention. The slippery, combined-word sounds of Swahili unite people from different linguistic groups in conversations but are exchanged for English in order to greet and make me feel welcome. And I do feel welcome. Whether it is the steamy cups of spiced milky tea, the smiling, waving walkers along the roads, or the improvised riddles people tell (always preceded by the call and response Kitenda wili? Tega), I cannot help but feel at home here.