I have just arrived in Dar es salaam. I go to my favourite guest house and book my room. I pay 20000 Tshs which is enough for two nights, the minimum duration i can stay.
Tommorow involves some vigorous buying of the goods that i intend to resell in my home country of Kenya. I decide having a little fun is okay for the soul. Therefore i phone my friend Kim. He has been in Dar es salaam for much longer and knows the right joints. He works here.
Kim tells me that he will be in the bar downstairs in about an hour, enough time to take a much needed bath and relax a bit. I do that and reminiscence on the days happenings on my journey to. Not much to write home about. Three trucks lying in the bush; thats normal. Police escort for buses; Thats abnormal. Apparently there have been isolated hijackings of some passenger vehicles and the commisioner of police is unhappy about the escalating crime, and he doesn't want to take chances.
Am a bit worried though. If crime rates were to climb in Tanzania.....? I also noted today that the gentle citizens are mumbling and are unhappy with the way things are going. Just before we entered the bus park, while being held at the traffic lights, an incident happened that got me worried.
The windows of the bus were open, to stem out the heat that seemed to suffocate us. On the left side of the road was this cripple who sat on a dilapidated mat. He even looked blind to me. He was begging for coins. A few of them were visible inside his pitious bowl. Someone in our bus felt pity and threw him a meagre 500 Tshs note, but the wind swept it off track afew yards behind us. Some young man happened to pass by and saw the note that was meant for the old man. He knew it was supposed to be given to him, but he picked it up, put it in his pocket and removed a 100 Tshs coin from his pocket and approached the beggar and dropped the coin in his bowl. To our dismay, and within earshot, he told us that the f.......(unprintable words about the old man's mother) was well fed while the young man was hungry, and so the old geezer didn't need the money. We all felt like getting out and wringing the neck of the ***. I wished Zinedine Zindane was out there to give him a head butt.
The change in peoples attitude is so out of custom, but i think i know why. All over Dar, the streets are devoid of hawkers. Even the guy who used to vend ciggarettes outside of my guest house in a small kiosk is gone. His small kiosk long demolished.
Apparently, the authorities had agreed with the hawkers on a time frame when the streets of Dar would be rid of hawking. They left but nobody knows where to or what they eat. The streets might be cleaner but the consequences may change the whole view of Tanzania. I understand there were no street fights with the vendors, unlike my city of Nairobi where they are engaged in evryday running battles with the police, sometimes with losses of life.
But i had never seen a problem with the hawkers here. You see they had very good arrangements with the authorities and during weekends, one of the streets would be closed to traffic and anybody could sell whatever they wanted for the two days. It was my favourite market, since i got real good bargains on so many varieties of goods. Now i don't know where to get then.
After i had embarked from my bus, i took the speed taxi to town and just before i boarded, i experienced another brawl. This time it was a woman who was moving around selling earlings held in a nylon paperbag. The guys in green, One of them actually wrestled her hand to try and push her towards a truck they use to transport hawkers they have arrested. Some iddle mob was disgusted and shouted to the officer to let the woman go. One heavily built youth, on learning the officer would not relent, rushed and wrenched the hand of the woman free before the other askaris would come to the aid of the officer, and the woman ran away free. I felt terribly proud of the young man.
Kim's chrill phone call wakes me up from my reverie. I join him downstairs and find him in a group of three men and one girl, all Kenyans. We sip each a beer while doing some chitty chat in our native language, which is so offensive to the kiswahili speaking Tanzanians.
We decide to explore the town. We first head off to Concorde, where a one man guitar plays some favourite old English and swahili tunes. Its welcomingly cool inside here because of the air conditioner. Beer here is expensive at 1300 Tshs per bottle.
We decide to go to some place they call Jolly. We hike a cab and pay Tshs 2000 for the approximately 3 or 4 km journey.
We are greeted by the site of near half naked girls on the parking lot, all jostling for our attentions oblivious of the one lady who has accompanied us. This sure must be the devils abode, from the look of things. We get sitted and order some beer. No soon has it landed than a group of local girls come calling on our table. They are four in all and i decide they must be very good with numbers considering we are five men and one girl.
They request us to buy them water. Apparently, unlike our sisters in Kenya who will ask you to buy them a beer upfront, the Tanzans only request for water. Another thing. Unlike in Kenya where water in hotels is free, Water in TZ is bought over the counter and is not freely available in jugs at strategic points.
We oblige since it's not expensive anyway. Soon they ask what we would like from them in return and someone in our group jokingly asks them what is the going price. The parrot in them leans over and begins a staggering quotation of 40000 Tshs. He tells him he will think about it. One of us suggests that the only way to put them off would be to start talking in our language, which we diligently do. We hear them asking one another from what possible country we may have come from. Some of them suggest Zambia, Malawi, Comoros and even Kenya. We offer them the truth, that we are actually from Kenya, and they move away very fast and spread a word round that the group over there is from Kenya, effectively putting off any further advances. I learn later that they say Kenyans buy cheap. Which is all to well, knowing the times we live in and the possible consequences of that short escapade.
Iam soon innebriated and time seems to fly. I look at my watch and its midnight. The soft Rumba music, the unceasing talk about our experiences has worn the night thin. Iam also tired from the daylong travel and i tell my friends its time we left Jolly. We take a cab and they drop me back at my hotel. I hit the sack immediately, since tommorow will be a short day. Not with all the shopping i have to do.