Salaam Dar!

It’s hot and humid out there and a million mosquitoes hound you, but for the serious fun-seeker Tanzania more than makes up for all that with its throbbing night life, great food and the unmatched African safari

By Anu Biswas in Tanzania

There are so many singularly fantastic, larger than life experiences in Dar that I recall. Suffice to say, the visit went by in a haze of colour, Swahili, stunning landscapes, astounding music and that unique sense of liveliness that you couldn’t just ignore. The place and its people reverberated with livewire energy at all times of the day, whatever the job at hand. It wasn’t easy in the beginning though.

  an under-developed economy laid bare. There were practically no streetlights, except in the centre of town. And Mikocheni, the area where we stayed, was a remote location, dominated by humungous, walled homes mostly belonging to local people. In fact, the blacktops ended somewhere within a five kilometre radius inside town, and our villa could be reached only by a mud track that would become a slush trail as I would figure later. World Bank could not stretch its funding beyond the city centre. 
We stayed in a four-villa-complex with identical villas plastered side-to-side. Our neighbors were mostly away for long periods of time and when they did return, they preferred to keep to themselves. One family, however, responded better to our intrinsic Indian social bonhomie with more zest; and soon my little girl had her first experience with two rowdy South African boys, whose afternoons would mostly be spent searching for "madudu", Swahili for garden lizard.

In any average country, red lights are places where you drum your impatient fingers on the wheel, triple check your mobile for missed calls or loving messages, sigh, or yell at kids. In Dar the traffic lights were a mysterious and entertaining stopover. Where hawkers during all unearthly times of the day would try to wheedle you into buying mobile phones and chargers, sports goods, fresh fruit, toys, baskets, and every conceivable item that could be carried on a five by five foot tray. You could be certain of an animated ‘jambo’ (the local version of hello) that would soon progress to a bargaining frenzy, by old and young men in colorful shirts pressing their faces against all four windows of your vehicle. Their energy was commendable. And whether they sold anything or not, they continued to remain unfazed and so full of life.

It’s a much abused question. Is Dar a safe city? There is no such a thing as a ‘safe city’ in the modern world. And Dar to me was the same. Of course, the unlit streets looked more daunting and the atypical friendliness of most people could be occasionally mistaken for a sinister motive, but we never had any reason to be seriously apprehensive. As long as you drove sensibly with windows rolled up, stayed away from interiors with a high poverty level and indigenous crowd, you were going to be fine. However, we occasionally asked our ‘askari’ or watchman to accompany us to the nearby restaurant if we decided to take a stroll. These guys were the essence of good nature and helpfulness—ever ready to get me a cab or buy drinking water from the local shops that dotted the sidewalk.

Possibly the one area that could qualify as a discernibly ‘unsafe zone’ was Kariakoo—a Sunday market of sorts, where you could get great deals on linen, crockery, cookware and the like. My usual reaction was to fix up with a friend (Scottish by birth but more Tanzanian than I could believe) for a quick trip, and be back armed with enough cotton to replace the ugly drapes we were forced to live with. I was pre-warned. Firstly you had to have nerves of steel to battle your way through the frenzy, and secondly all your fantastic bargains could well easily come to naught via a discounted wallet or a missing watch. The spree never took place and I am certain the ugly drapes continue to remain.

The local disc at California Dreamin’ (remember Mamas and Papas’ million-record hit of the 70s?) belted out the usual club, garage, and tantric beats to a near-hypnotised crowd. I definitely preferred the genuine sounds of reggae, jazz, and the blues.

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April 2006