The Amani Adventure

Marianne and I decided that we would go to Amani Nature Reserve in the Usambara Mountain chain for the weekend to see the forest and do some trekking. After a shortened day of work on Friday, we made our way to the bus station in Tanga and caught a dalla-dalla to Muheza for about $1. The uneventful trip took about an hour and we pulled into the bus depot in Muheza only to be hassled by every bus driver there. When we asked about the connecting bus to Muheza we were directed into the heart of town, and so began a walk through the market place to find this 'other bus station.' Meanwhile, every kid on the street screamed 'mzungu mzungu hello!' at us and every tout tried to sell us something. We walked all the way through town and found no bus station, and no bus to Amani. We finally found someone who spoke a bit of English and he told us that there were no more buses to Amani, but that his friend might be going there. (Bad vibes start now).

His friend turned out to be a super nice student from the Christian school at Amani, and he was heading back to his dormitory there with the Matron of his school and a few other people who worked there. He said it was 'no problem' to catch a ride. We waited for the matron to finish a few drinks at the local bar and I played with a filthy toddler who just so happened to be running around while his parents had a drink as well. Once everyone heading to Amani was ready to go, we piled into the old white truck and I put my backpack between my legs to hide the rusted-through hole in the floor. Once out of Muheza, the tarmac turned into rocky dirt roads and we began our journey uphill. Instead of following the signs to Amani, however, the truck veered off down another road. When I asked our new friend, Dunston, where we were going, he said that we just needed to stop and say hi to the Matron's mother in her native village.

When we reached the top of the hill and the centre of this small town (the name of which escapes me at the moment), the driver held up the gear shift from the front seat and laughed. He must have read the look of horror on my face because he smiled at me and said 'no problem!' I started to worry, but was soon kicked out of the car so that the guys could get some spare parts from underneath my seat. They dumped a bag full of rusty bolts and rubber straps onto the ground and sifted through them. Dunston distracted us by taking us for a walk up to a very, very old Anglican church on the top of the hill, where we met the matron of a local Christian boarding school for girls. When we returned to the truck, they had it running well and were testing out the gear shift by driving forwards and backwards. Once they said everything was okay, we were back on track and back on the bumpy road towards Amani.

It was starting to get dark by this point and Dunston was asking a lot of questions about Canada and trying his best to explain Tanzanian culture. We were having a great conversation, but after a while (and the trip to Amani took a long time), he started asking questions that I've learned not to get into. For example, "Are you married? - Why not?" In Tanzania, 22 is not too young for marriage. Another difficult question to answer: "What is your religion?" One is either Christian or Muslim around here and you can't dare try to explain what it means to be Agnostic or Buddhist or any other branch of Christianity with a language barrier. The third and possibly most dangerous question to answer is, "How much did your plane ticket from Canada to Tanzania cost you?" A ticket overseas is certainly not cheap for a Canadian, however, try explaining how 2.3 million Tanzanian shillings is not THAT much money in Canada. To a local, 2.3 million TSH could support a family for years and I don't want to go around advertising that I have that kind of money.

Anyways, while I tried to dodge Dunston's questions, we got bounced around violently in the backseat and began to smell something burning. Soon after the burning smell starting to waft into the cab, the headlights started to flicker and dim. When someone in the car said that the smell was carbon dioxide, we pulled over immediately to let the engine cool and get some fresh air. Once again, all the guys in the truck (and the ones who were riding in the back with the rice and various other goods) all hopped out to fiddle around with god knows what under the hood. Apparently a fuse had blown. At this point I was starting to get really worried and I thought for sure we would get stuck on a dirt road in the middle of a forest in Africa with a bunch of people we had just met. It was pitch black in the forest and we could see millions of stars overhead, but we were still about 1km away from where we needed to be, it was dark, and we were getting hungry and tired. The guys finally got everything fixed and we started uphill again. Dunston dumped us off at the Park's headquarters and said he'd get the attention of the housekeeper to set us up in the guesthouse while we waited at a picnic table outside. We exchanged email addresses, thanked everyone profusely for the ride, and watched them continue up the road to Amani village and the boarding school where they would stay.

The crickets and strange bird calls kept us company while we waited ofr someone to come. The housekeeper finally showed up after about an hour to let us inside and we then feasted on the mandazi and chapati that we had bought in town, and aknowledged that we would laugh about all of this the next day.

The following day we got up early and arranged to do a guided walk through the park. We hired a guide and walked to the top of Mbomole mountain to see the views and to learn about the local flora and fauna. The medical research facility in the park has planted all kinds of exotic trees in the area to find cures for a range of diseases. We saw eucalyptus trees, trees that produce quinine in their bark (to fight malaria), Melaleuca trees (tea tree oil), and trees that produce seeds full of an oil used to make soap. Our guide knew a lot about the plantlife and spoke English very well. We saw monkeys and hornbills and thousands of frogs that would jump out of our way as we walked. The forest was amazing - full of vines and bamboo and huge leafy plants like banana trees that I'd never see back in Canada.

Our second hike began after lunch and led us down into the valley, through Amani village, and up Sigi mountain. A lot of curious locals greeted us along the way and all the local kids insisted on saying hello and having their picture taken. I had forgotten my camera and had to use Marianne's :( The hike up Sigi mountain was brutal in the heat and humidity and it turned out that there wasn't even a view from the top. The primary forest in that region was gorgeous and again we saw plantlife so unlike anything from home. The trek up Sigi mountain, back down into the valley and back up to Amani again took about 5 hours, so we were more than ready for dinner and sleep when we got back to camp.

We chatted with a medical researcher over dinner and he went into (too much) detail about some of the diseases he was researching. He also explained how his name, Fabio, was a mistake. Fabio is obviously not a very traditional African name, but his mother actually intended to name him Fabian. At his baptism, the priest misread his name as Fabio (instead of Fabian), and so his family decided that he should stay with Fabio seeing as that is how God had accepted him. Interesting guy.

The next morning we were up at dawn and on a bus to Muheza. The bus was already packed - even at 6am - and so I ended up sitting on a bag of rice next to a lady who had a live chicken sitting on her lap beneath her kanga. The road was horribly bumpy, but not as scary as it was in the dark 2 days before. After all the craziness, we survived the journey to Tanga with nothing but authentic experiences and extremely sore legs.