Saturday 18 August 2001
NAIROBI, KENYA to MOSHI, TANZANIA
Aside from one bawling infant, the flight to Africa was pleasant.
A bit of drama occurred during the landing at Nairobi’s Jomo Kenyatta International Airport. As the plane approached the runway, level with some of the hangar buildings, it suddenly veered up sharply. We all took a few "Gs" for a second or two as the plane climbed out of the airport. Nik, who enjoys flying even less than I do, was shaken badly by this. He was watching the landing out a window. I chatted with the fellow sitting on the other side of me, blissfully unaware of how close the plane was to touchdown. The pilot reported that the collision detection system had gone off and for safety reasons they would have to re-set it thereby delaying our arrival. We lost perhaps a half hour, before arriving at the gate intact.
\We got through customs at Nairobi Kenyatta airport without any problems. Kenya charges $20 for a travel visa each time one enters the country and $20 departure fees (which are added to one’s departing ticket price). It’s a great racket. There was some confusion at the arrivals area where many tour companies were waiting: we did not see signs for ZARA nor anything with our names on it. Eventually, I spotted a sign for Savuka Tours that read "Marklondry 4". Upon talking with the woman holding the sign we determined that she was waiting for 4 people heading to Namanga (border crossing with Tanzania) to transfer to the ZARA van for Moshi. This was all news to us as EWP had offered no specifics other than a ZARA van would pick only Nik and I up at Kenyatta airport. A bit of back and forth continued where we figured out that the other 2 people were Ianko and Andrea who, we explained, were already in Moshi having arrived via the local Kilimanjaro International Airport. Savuka contacted someone at ZARA who confirmed what we told them. Meanwhile we met Charles, our driver for the Kenya portion of the ride to Kilimanjaro. Outside it was overcast but otherwise temperate in the 70s. All the Kenyans we saw had sweaters or jackets on. We were told that the weather was considered chilly. Charles drove up in our van and we took off for Tanzania.
Finally we set off, an hour or so after arriving at the gate. We went out to meet the van, which we had all to ourselves. Plenty of leg-room and good views out the windows. Charles was a 36-year old father of 4 from the Luo tribe. During the ride he told us a bit about Kenyan history and politics, taught us some good Swahili phrases, and filled us in on cultural matters, all of which we found fascinating. Based on others’ accounts we expected the roads to be in dangerous states of disrepair with reckless driving the norm. We were concerned enough about this that we had agreed on the plane to actually threaten any aggressive driver with violence. To our great relief the ride turned out to be quite pleasant and Charles drove in a most responsible fashion. Speed bumps and police checkpoints featuring rifle-and-submachine gun-toting officers were in place at random intervals along the road from Nairobi Kenyatta to the border crossing at Namanga. We were always waved through quickly however.
Nairobi National Park stretched for miles along our route though we did not see anything other than an occasional antelope or gazelle. We did spot a great deal of livestock tended by Masai ranchers in both traditional and Western garb. The shantytown sprawl along the roads tended to diminish the further we got from Nairobi Kenyatta. The bars and general stores all displayed ads for Sportsman’s cigarettes—the local brand, Coca-Cola products, and numerous East African beers. My favorite slogan was for Tusker Beer, Kenya’s number one brand: "Makes Us Equal. Has No Equal."
We stopped perhaps 20 minutes from the Tanzanian border to get drinks at what we eventually guessed was a standard tourist-trap for tourists traveling to and from Namanga. We suspect the van and shuttle-bus drivers get kick-backs from the store owners. It featured Masai-related carved animals, painted tapestries, knives and spears. The photo of us at the shop fails to reflect the bad taste we had in our mouths after we left. We each spent well over $50 at the store for goods that should have cost half that. Our bargaining skills were clearly not up to the challenge. After that episode, I was more wary of scams, but Nik remained curiously to say "no thanks" at subsequent venues in both Tanzania and Kenya. To add to the fun, on our way out our salesmen gave us their names and addresses asking us to send them American sports t-shirts and hats. Charles got in on this too; at one point asking us to send him a Casio G-Shock watch like I wore.
Back on the road we started looking for Kilimanjaro to the southeast, but the skies though sunny at this point were still overcast enough to prevent long-distance views. Namanga wasn’t as overcrowded as I had heard—we must have arrived at an off-time. We exited Kenya with no problems and, to our great surprise, no $20 exit fee was charged. A quick drive to the Tanzanian side of the border and we were processed without incident thanks largely to our buying visas from the Tanzanian consulate back in New York. The guys running the Tanzanian customs desk were somewhat rude though not hostile. Back into the Savuka van for a quick drive down to a parking lot where the ZARA van awaited us. Here Masai women trying to sell us jewelry besieged us. They were rather persistent, putting bracelets and necklaces on me while we transferred our luggage to the ZARA van. Charles told us how to let them know we were not interested. At long last the Masai got the message. We tipped Charles, said our goodbyes, and then waited in the ZARA van for 15 or 20 minutes while one of the two drivers went to fetch something—a large jug of water it turned out. The 2 drivers, Hariid and Saleh did not speak much English, but we managed to communicate in spite of that. We both made it quite clear that we did not want any crazy driving. Our request was satisfied.
The road south from Namanga was also in surprisingly good condition, though there were occasional road-wide potholes. Hariid slowed down and navigated around them when necessary. Out the window we started seeing actual mountains, but views of Kili still eluded us. At the town of Longido we stopped at a police station for another 15-20 minutes. Apparently Hariid had some problems there concerning his driver’s license so he had to go in to "settle" things. We figured some bribe was proffered, but did not press him for details.
Along the road we saw people walking for miles, carrying goods and containers of water. That became a lasting image of East Africa. In the middle of nowhere we pulled over to the side of the road, just in front of a funny sign announcing "Danger Works Ahead" which we guessed meant "Road Construction Ahead". The van had overheated so we all got out to stretch our legs. The weather was pleasantly warm with somewhat hazy skies, but not oppressive in any way. Hariid and Saleh produced the aforementioned jug of water and got to work on the van while Nik and I snapped pictures of mist-enshrouded Mount Meru off to the southeast. A few Masai children approached us out of curiosity. Nik gave one of them a dollar bill, which they found curiously amusing—"money with pictures of strange white people". Saleh saw this and talked the kid into trading the American money for what we were sure was an inadequate amount of Tanzanian money. To avoid a row with our drivers in the middle of nowhere, we decided not to pursue the matter. The kids were completely ignorant of exchange rates in any case.
Not too long after getting back on the road, we got to Arusha, one of Tanzania’s largest cities. There we stopped at a clean Western service station, which ironically featured one of the most primitive of bathrooms. A hole in the floor with a faucet next to it—no toilet paper provided, either. Back on the road we headed East to Moshi while Hariid and Saleh provided a tutorial on the various Tanzanian beers of which there are quite a few. There are basically 2 brewing companies, each making several brands. Kenyan beers are also available in places. We tried or at least saw Kilimanjaro lager, Safari lager, Kibo Gold, "Kastle", and a few varieties of Tusker. I enjoyed every brand that I drank.
Traffic on the road tended to slow us down a bit and the ETAs provided by Hariid and Saleh were at least an hour earlier than our actual arrival time. We drifted off a bit along this portion of the ride, but woke up in time to get our first quick glimpses of Kilimanjaro peaking through the clouds to the east. It was an exciting moment despite our fatigue. Moshi is a small dusty city to the south/southeast of Kilimanjaro. In it we found a couple of traffic circles containing monuments to Tanzanian history, tourist hotels, various schools and medical centers, a railroad junction and some heavy industry. The roads in town were in terrible shape, slowing us down considerably. We crawled over to a side street where the well-fortified ZARA HQ sits. Zainab Ansell, the co-owner, came out. She knew just who we were — "the EWP group" — with a minimum of explanation and was as well-organized as her reputation suggested. A large number of men congregated outside the ZARA compound. Some were obviously the Masai bodyguards Mark had heard about. These guys looked plenty tough and were most assuredly not wearing the red plaid kilts favored by most of their people though some did have ritual facial scarifications. We asked Zainab about travel arrangements back to Nairobi and got clear and concise information in return.
We inched on for another 10 minutes to Springlands, also heavily gated. Disembarking from our van we tipped both Hariid and Saleh--probably too much judging by the way their eyes bulged out. Walking over to the check-in area, I saw a group of westerners, probably English judging by their bored, stone-faced looks, having drinks off by the bar patio. They appeared exhausted and completely disdainful of our energetic enthusiasm. In a week’s time I understood this attitude completely.
We checked in at the desk where we met 2 ladies, both named Patience. One worked the desk while the other helped people get to their rooms, billed people for meals at the hotel, and sold stuff at the gift shop. As we checked in, Ianko Ivanov and Andrea Kopper suddenly appeared to greet us. They too had been near the bar somewhere awaiting our arrival, anticipating us some hours earlier. After introductions we followed one of the Patiences and some other employees to our room. Springlands is not a luxury hotel by any means, but it was clean and easy to get around. We dropped our bags in the room then went to the bar with Ianko and Andrea for a pre-climb toast. Ianko, Andrea and I pounded down a few beers. Nik had previously insisted Ianko does not drink alcohol, but clearly such was not the case. Truth has amazing elasticity in the Bulgarian universe.
Ianko and Andrea had arrived 2 days earlier via KLM at Kilimanjaro International Airport, situated 30 minutes west of Moshi. They had spent the interim exploring Moshi and Arusha. At the time (August 2001), Andrea, an architect, worked with Ianko at the same engineering firm in Vienna. There's more to their story, but I'll leave it at that. Of the two, Andrea spoke better English, but I never recall having any problems understanding Ianko. He tends to speak in as few syllables as possible, anyway.
We went outside the gates to take a group photo and get our first good look at Kibo and Mawenzi. For me it was surreal. Back in the hotel we sat at a table outside our rooms to compare Kili maps and discuss the trek. Ianko and I already had a good chuckle over Nikola's absolute lack of research for the trip. Ianko told us some details of his plan to join an expedition to Shipton’s Arch in remote, western China the next year. He even distributed articles on the arch to each of us. A born salesman.
We all repaired to our rooms to wash-up prior to dinner. Eventually more and more climbers showed up as the evening began—the KLM flight to Kilimanjaro airport arrives in the evenings. Dinner was a buffet with soup served at the table. Ianko and I dashed for the buffet table with my audible intention of heading off the English and Germans. An Englishman took some exception to this, but received a laugh or two in reply. The food itself was a pleasant combination of western and African cuisine with nothing too mysterious or exotic. It was probably the best meal we had while in Tanzania.
After we ate we started packing for the mountain, interrupted by a pre-climb briefing held at the bar patio. The speaker, a man named Francis, filled us in on what we needed and some tips for our climb. He then answered questions while Nik and Ianko joked around in Bulgarian. Once this was over we returned to our rooms to organize our gear (for hours), then sleep.