Where U R?

How do you know when U R in Egypt?
When your driver stops the car in the middle of the road, and goes off to have his noon prayer with the engine running.

This is exactly what happened!! Not ten minutes after I touch down in Cairo. The bus driver stopped the bus in the middle of this busy street, and politely ask all the passengers to wait for a few minutes, while he walked to a nearby Mosque for his Noon-Prayer. We (the few backpackers on the bus) watched the whole thing in awe.

We have arrived, and THIS must of be Egypt.

How do you know when U R in China?
When you are sitting in a restaurant and realized that there is no sight of the familiar salt and pepper shaker on the table, but a bowl of MSG (Monosodium Glutamate).

How do you know when U R in Nairobi, Kenya?
Your rather go hungry though the night, than to walk across the street at night to get some food.

How do you know when U R in Tanzania?
When the cook serves you afternoon tea in the middle on nowhere dressing in white and with a mushroom hat on his head.

Nairobian Nights

Well... that first night at Nairobi was certainly the most memorable of them all. Felt so special being escorted by so many.

Since then I had made some friends that can accompany each other to go out for dinner together now. Met this Finnish guy, who is finishing his three months of volunteer work here in Nairobi, who had been to Nairobi three times(3 days total), and got his watch torn out of his wrist, while under escort by a Nairobian friend. And then there is this Peace Corp guy that told me, that 70% of his co-workers here got robbed while they were here.

So.., I figure that I'll meet my robber eventually ...You know, the U.N. got a rating system for the cities around the world, and Nairobi was rated "C", a rating reserve for cities that just came out of a civil war or something. U.N. personals works in this Nairobi actually gets "hazardous pay"....Go figure.

On my second night there, I think I heard my first gun shoot there. Which brings out another interesting fact about this city, that 90% of all gun shoot death are done by the police. Hmmm??... Which is why most shops have their own private security guards. I think I landed in the wrong side of town.

My third night there, one of the guy working at the guest house took me to a local bar. After a couple beers, he decided to teach me how to spot a prostitute. Which isn't too hard, considering the fact that 90% of the women there is. I am definitely @ the wrong side of town.

It is strange that, now I am out of Nairobi, and I still haven't got robbed yet. I think I might have been followed for a couple times, but by keeping a look over your shoulder at all times, and crossing the streets unexpectedly, and walk at some random speed, you can avoid most troubles.

But, I think my crime free experience there so far may have something to do with... Yes! you guessed it, Bruce Lee. Along with Jet Lee, Jacky Chang, and all those forgotten Kong-Fu stars from Taiwan and Hong Kong. They somehow managed to saturated the whole world, and made everyone think that I know Kong-Fu. I had kids running back to their home, and brings me his favorite Bruce Lee tape, when they founded out I am from China. Not to mention all those Kong-Fu moves demonstrations.... It's hard to convince them that I really don't know a thing about Kong-Fu. But Hey, it's good not to get robbed.

The National Bird
The National Museum in Nairobi has one of the finest collection of stuffed birds I had seen in my travel(the one in China are just pathetic at best). It had 900 specimens of the 1800 species living in Kenya. When I asked to see the national bird of Kenya is, my guide laughed. It is not the ostrich, not the vulture, not the kite,...it's a dame chicken. To be specific, the roaster. It is inscribe on its national seal, coins, bills.... Well... Okay, maybe it is not officially its national bird, it is actually the mascot of its leading political party. But still... a chicken? Come on, guys....you got like 1800 species to chose from....

The National Dish
If you just wandering about Nairobi for a significant amount of time, you would think that the whole country eats nothing but chicken and chips. There is fast food restaurant at every street corners that serves roast chicken, fried chicken, BBQ chicken.... This country that just loves the chicken. :-) Well...that's what I ate for four days....Chicken and chips, Curry chicken and rice, Chicken in tomato sauce...( Funny stuff aside, outside of Nairobi, they ate mostly on maze, potatoes, bananas,...very little chicken, or meat, because it's pretty expensive)

Search for the Honey Badgers
Nope.... still haven't seen one yet. The closest I ever got was a stuffed one in the National Museum. Lot less interesting than the real thing I am sured, but.....Oh well ...

The Coca-Cola Invasion
When I first saw the movie "The God must be Crazy", I got a pretty good laughed at how a Coke bottle changed the life of a bush man in the middle of nowhere. After spending nearly a month in East Africa, that Coke bottle just took on a totally different meaning for me.

It dawned on me while I was doing my walks around town in Moshi. I was standing on the side of the street, drinking a Coke to quench my thirst. I looked around and must of saw at lease twenty Coca-Cola signs lining the streets. It's everywhere!! Red and white, red and white, red and white...... Every store signs had a Coke Logo beside it(The Coca-Cola Company has a program of printing out free signs for just every stores that sell Coke here). You will not be able to walk around town with out seeing one of those Red-n-White signs. I tried once, when I was on my way to Dar-Es-Salaam from Moshi to find out if I can go the whole way with out seeing a Coke sign. I was pretty happy to find U can actually go for 10-15 minutes without seeing one. That is before I spotted a duffel bag with a Coke logo in the overhead bins.... There is no escape.

The thing is, I am drinking more Coke than ever. I may had drank it once or twice, when I was in China(two and a half month), but now I am drinking it for lunch, for dinner....two or three bottles a day. The stuff is cheaper than bottle water.

You Pepsi fans may want to skip East Africa. The Peace Corp guy I am traveling with was just so glad to find some Pepsi here in Cairo, after spending 2 years in Coke Country. The funny thing is.... right outside of our hotel lobby window, there is this huge 3 stories high neon sign, flashing the familiar Red-n-White sign... Here we are, living under the biggest Coke logo in town (the whole Egypt?).

Riding of the Matatu

Most people Came to Kenya for the wildlife, I came for the Matatu.

Having first read about them on the Lonely Planet, I was immediately intrigued. I had seen some of its relatives cruising the streets in Tanzania, and even rode on one of its distant cousins, call the Dalla-Dallas. But, a Dalla-Dalla is Dalla-Dalla, NOT a Matatu. A Matatu is a totally different kind of beast all together, as far as transports are concerned....This is a totally unique specie, indigenous only to Kenya.


How to Survive a Matatu East Africa, Lonely Planet



Matatus are more than just transport. They are Kenya's contribution to world culture, These gaudily painted minibuses with 200-decibel stereo systems have a crew of three: the driver, who normally hasn't slept for three days, keeping himself going by chewing miraa shoots; the conductor, who extracts fares from reluctant passengers; and the tout, a veritable Daddy Cool whose aerial gymnastics on the outside of the minibus ought to be an Olympic event. Governmental efforts to regulate the matatu industry have reduced decibel levels, but not much more,

Matatu travel is not exactly a bed of roses. In fact, as one look at the Daily Nation will tell you, the beds most often associated with matatus are the ones in hospitals, so there are a few rules and principles you should be aware of:

Under no circumstances allow yourself to be placed in the 'Death Seat' next to the driver - extra leg-room and the occasional shoot of miraa do not outweigh the disadvantage of certain death in the event of a head-on collision.


Just which are the best seats in a matatu is debatable. The two rows behind the driver should be avoided for safety reasons, while the back seat is a pain in the neck for tall people. Sitting next to the window is OK, but you'll bang your head when crossing rough ground. Wedged in like a sardine on the middle two seats in the second row from the back you'll be better protected in the event of a head-on collision, overturning on 'a sharp corner or any end-over-end Evil Knevel-type stunts. Fight for these seats.


Don't voluntarily get into a matatu named 'Death or Glory', 'White Lightning', 'Get in & Die', 'Velocity' or 'Beat the Reaper' for obvious reasons.


Valium is available over the counter in Kenya.


Avoid night journeys because of drunk drivers and the lack of adequate/any lights on many vehicles. However, it's been suggested that matatu standard operating procedure (overtaking on blind bends, below the crest of steep hills etc) makes traveling at night a safer option. At least headlights warn of an oncoming vehicle, if it has any headlights ...


If the locals look nervous you have a problem.


Engine ignition can occur 45 minutes before you leave and is simply a method of attracting passing trade. The same goes for a sudden, but slow, departure (often just a tour of the bus station). Up to five changes of driver may occur during this stage.


There is always room for one more.


Getting into a passing half-empty matatu is not always a good idea if the crew is just trawling the streets in an effort to fill the vehicle. At the bus station numerous touts will try and fill the vehicle which will speed up your journey. Not that it'll require much speeding up.


A pot-holed road is a good road. It slows you down.



Having spend all my money on climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro, and the Safari. With little time and money left, I had decided this will be my next cheap thrill. I was not disappointed.

Night 1,
Having made my way to the hostel under police escort, I decided to sit in, and wait for morning. Having spend nearly 12 hours on a bus between Dar es Salaam and Nairobi, and having little to eat. I settled in at the stringy little hotel lobby, to watch a little TV. The news came on ....

"Five killed in accident in Naivasha, this morning . . .. over turned. 11 other were injured. . . "

A mangled body of a Nissan van were shown being pushed to the side of the road . . ..

Groop,....My heart sank like a stone. This all together is getting a little too real now.

I tried not to think too much about it, thinking that. "There must be thousands of these Matatus out there, and one in a thousand, is really statistically insignificant....Yeah...that's right...."

The power went out later that night...

"It is not really safe to go out there in the dark...", the hotel manger said. We really didn't need to get reminded. Living on the notorious River Road, you learn to smarten up REAL quick. Pulled out my head lamp, I started on this new novel I bought, "The Clan of the Cave Bear".

"Boom, Boom ... .Boom ...: The sound of a sub-woofer rocked the windows, and flashing neon color light shine right thought the dusty glass, and lit up the whole room. My brain immediately registered that, something interesting is happening out there.....

I walked over to the window, and saw the most beautiful thing I had saw in the whole Nairobi. Brightly painted in red and yellow, lit with flashing neon lights in it's roof, and under the floor...that van just looked awesome. You can see all the passengers sitting inside, with their white shirts all brightly lit with the black lights. It is like a disco club on wheels.

It's a Matatu!! The very thing I came to see.

It passed in front of the hotel, and managed to lit up the whole neighborhood with its neon lights, ....It was just beautiful!! ... and my desired was again rekindled.

Night 2,
Looking out side the window, from a second story bar. We saw one Matatu after another passing beneath us, each a little different than the next. Playing a different tune, Bob Marley, Jennifer Lopez,....

"Have you tried it yet?", my roommate asked, knowing I am a newbie.

"No. . ., I read about them."

"You have ta, its bloody outrageous. . .." Having spend three months here already, the Norwegian volunteer began another rounds of story telling. You just never runs out of stories, if you are in Nairobi.

"Go check out Lake Nakaru, it's beautiful. You can take a matatu there in the morning, and be back before it gets dark," He said.

"I'll show ya where you can catch one tomorrow, so you can get some genuine Matatu Experience. I need to catch a ride across town anyway."

Day 3,
He walked me down River Road, and pointed at a line of Nissans sitting on the muddy streets, and said, "See that one with the sign on the top? That's the one that goes to the Lake." and he hoop on to his own Matatu and left me there.

Lake Nakaru? Let me think about it...

After some thinking, I decided to walk over to the National Museum across town instead. " It's only 3 kilometers..., walking is always the better way of travel", I remind myself. Deep down, I think that black and white imaged of a mangled Nissan on TV still haunts me.

"Let's tackle Nairobi, before you tackle the Matatu, Lawrence....", and just as I began to walk back...

"Whamp...." I heard this loud thump on my right, and as I turn to look, I saw this large man just being thrown out of this speeding Matatu that he was trying to get off from, and onto the asphalt he goes. His bag of grocery gotten thrown all across the road....

The speeding Matatu, comes to a screeching stop, realizing what they have done. The conductor jumped out, and walked over to the man, sitting there still dazed and confused from the shock. He helped him up, said something to the man in Swahili, and went about gather up all the stuff on the road for him. He then handed him the bag, pat his back, and back onto the Matatu, as if nothing had happened, sped away.

All this, happened in less than two minutes, and the crowd seeing no one is "really" hurt, lost interest and went about their usual business. Leaving the man, still dazed and confused, limping along on his way.

Grop,...I'll walk.

Night 3,
The walking across town is pretty eventless, thought I had been followed several times, but by crossing streets unexpectedly, walking and stopping unexpectedly, and keeping an eye on your back at all times. I had little trouble, but after three days of this, it was starting to take its toll. I can feel my mind going paranoid. I needed to get out of here!! Out of Nairobi!!!

I made a decision. I am going to do it. It is my last chance, and I don't want spend all my whole time in Kenya in Nairobi!!

I am going to take a matatu, and I am going to go to Hell's Gate national Park. The only park around, where you can actually walk, or bike around in the open. I needed get away bad.

Day 4,
I found my Matatu (going to Naivasha) on that very same parking lot a day earlier, hopped in and waited.

And waited, and waited .....

Yup, just as the book said,

"Engine ignition can occur 45 minutes before you leave and is simply a method of attracting passing trade. The same goes for a sudden, but slow, departure (often just a tour of the bus station). Up to five changes of driver may occur during this stage."

--- Rule No.7

Half an hour later, we filled up this little Nissan van with 20 peoples on board , and the van started to move...

Having read "How to Survive a Matatu" more than a few times, I began realized that, you can't really choose you own seat in this thing...so, if you want to follow Rule No.2, and pick "the middle seats in the second row from the back", you have to get on to that van in the right time, just as it is being filled in. Arrive too early, you be squeezed next to the window as it gets filled; arrive to late, you be crouching over someone's knees next to the door. So for all practical reasons, don't even bother to try...

Having being filled, the Matatu was making good progress on the road. The drive took us along the Rift Valley, for some of the most stunning landscapes. All the passengers were more than happy to see some rich Mujungu coming along ... It was just wonderful.

As we make stops along the way, the van took in at times 23 or 24 people. With so many heads and bodies all packed in, it was kind of hard to count,

"There is always room for one more." --- Rule No.8.

I got to Lake Navasia, and got on to anther Matatu, for a 15km hop to the Park. As usual, you waited, and waited, till the van got full. Some time during this wait, someone loaded baskets, and baskets of dried fish under the seats. The fragrance was quite pungent, and it managed to attracted the local fly population. I thought about waiting it outside, but crawling over four or five peoples knees to the door just feel ridiculous.

"Here...", the guy next to me handed me a piece of dried fish he took from underneath the seat., while putting another piece to his mouth.

"Oh....no. Not the dry fish... Not another test...., I am here for the Matatu test, not the dry fish. There is not a thing on the book about the dried fish! I was hoping for some "miraa shoots" (a "non-addictive" and stimulating leafy twigs and shoots that can makes you feel good, but very aggressive, and you can go for days without sleep) experiences, but not the dry fish."

Not knowing how to say no, I took it, and sensing there is more than a few eyes looking my way, I began to nibbled at it, and put on a little smile, and tried not to look too sissy. With the pride of the whole western civilization resting on my shoulders (well,...more like my tongue.). . .

I swallowed.

"Hahaha. . .", The men laughed anyway.

Oh, boy,

It was great to be in Hell's Gate National Park. No need to look over you back at all times, and no guild to tell you where to go, and nothing but the savannas, the zebras, and a school of crazy baboons trying to take foods from kids. I was free. . . and I wandered around the park well into the sunset.

Then, I remembered something. . ., something about that last bus back to Nairobi, and something about...

"Avoid night journeys . . . " --- Rule No. 5

I hurried back to the main road, just in time to see a matatu ready to leave. I ran for it, and luckily they waited. (They would never leave a Mujungu stranded if they can help it). The conductor got out of his seat out front and waved me over, left the front door open for me . . .

"Under no circumstances allow yourself to be placed in the 'Death Seat' next to the driver - extra leg-room and the occasional shoot of miraa do not outweigh the disadvantage of certain death in the event of a head-on collision."

--- Rule No.1

Ohhh.., No. Not the "Death Seat", I am not ready for the "Death Seat"...

I looked at the back of the van, and saw it packed to the breaking point. I look at the end of the road hoping to find another matatu, . . .no luck. I looked further to the horizon, and find the sun fast setting.... I look back at the conductor, whom kindly offered his "prized" seat for this mujungu, and ... they waited for me. "You can't say no now!! Lawrence."

I got in,

There is already three guys sitting in the front row already, there is no room. (Remember, this is a Nissan van, not the one that are build for our big fat American asses, this one is build for the Japanese market), so I ended up sitting on top of this guy's lap, with my face 12 inches from the windshield, Seat belt? Haha...that's funny.

I called this , the "Death Seat ++".

The van got moving. I looked back and found the conductor whom had offered me his "seat" daggling outside of the van.

"Oh, Man.....If this guy falls, I don't know if I can live with the fact, that it is me that took his seat...."

The van starts to pick up speed, and I watched the needle going up, and up.....30kph, 40kph, 70kph,...

I was scared.

Apparently, so is the conductor. He moved from dangling over the sliding door in the back, and up to the front (all while it's going 90kph). He lean his body in through the window, and have me grabbing on to his belt with him leaning over my lap, and with half of his body still out side.

"If the locals look nervous you have a problem." --- Rule No.6

Then, this evil thought, crept up from my brain, ". . .at lease there is some cushioning, between me and that windshield, now. . .."

With his conductor "inside", the driver mad a final push to his paddles, and we got to around 120kph eventually. Fortunately, some passengers got off during the stops. and the conductor and I went back to sitting in the back rows. It was good to be seating at the back.

Then, that's when it got dark. . ..

To Be Continued....

Nairobian Nights, Part 1

The Flight Out,
Well... my trip to Nairobi was not as trouble free as I had thought it'll be, that's for sure. First, I couldn't get on the bus I wanted, and missed my plane ride by a day, but the guys at the Egyptian Airline was nice enough to put me on standby (with no extra charge), so I have no idea when I am leaving Nairobi.

The Border,
Then, there is the boarder crossing. Which I have to run to catch my bus, as it was leaving without me.... The guys at the boarder took a little longer with me (being the only non Kenyan/Tanzanian on-board), and I have to go change money to pay for my visa... Man....I thought I was going to be stranded at this boarder town. Good thing there is this short cut that cut across this turn on the road.... .

The first 10 Minuets,
8PM, Nairobi. After 12 hour on the bus, I just wanted a place in Nairobi to lie down. I looked at the guide book, and the nearest guest house is just a block away. Oh good, I don't want to go far in this town at night. I had read the warnings in the guide books about this place. There is this thing call 'Nairobbery', which is used by Kenyans to descried the daily muggings and robberies. But it is only a block away, I said. So, I walked out of the bus station with the huge backpack on my back. As soon as I did that, one of the security guards at the station approached me, and go to length to tell me it is not safe to do this.....but it is only a block away, I said....No matter, this guy decided to escort me on my way down the street, with a club in one hand, and a whip on the other.... (I think the guy was after a tip, or commissions from the hotel).

Not 20 meters down the road, we ran into this three heavily armed police/army guys, all with sub-machine guns, whom proceeded to ask us questions, and wanted to see my passport, and even my yellow card (immunization record). They proceeded to check my visa, and said it expired....What? I just got that 3 hours ago! It turns out, that in the dim light the guy thought he saw August 2nd, instead of August 12th.(I think that wanted bribes, if they can find any irregularities in the paper work) So they decided to let me go, and proceeded to walk me to my guest house. Which is only 30 meters away now. So, Here I am... guarded by 3 armed police with machine guns, and a security guard waving his whip, walking down this dark alley...This is Nairobi? The capital city?

Well, I got to the guest house unscratched (physically at least). A little hungry, but a lot more afraid of going outside now. "There is a restaurant across the street, if you run real fast, it'll only take ten seconds max.... you should be Okay", one Japanese guest staying there joked. I don't think he was joking, because coupled with Nairobi's frequent power outages (twice in my first night there), I think I'll wait for breakfast. It is daylight now, things are picking up. Lively town (in day time).

The Chinese Mujungu

Mujungu, a Swahili word that means a "white person". In actual use, it had many connotations that goes beyond describing the light skin folks. It can mean "tourist", "idiot", "stupid", or a "wimp". . ., it really depends on who said it or how it was said.

I have heard the word uttered a few times in my presence, but never paid much attention to it, partly because it was not listed in the guidebook dictionary, and I really didn't know what it means. By the time I got to Zanzibar, I had already spend more than 2 weeks in Tanzania. Things had began to sink in slowly, and I started to get a feel of this place, and most importantly, I began to pickup some Swahili.

It is very easy to get yourself spoiled while traveling in Tanzania, because you are always getting taken care of. You get to be put into the special foreigner only cabin while on a ferry, you get a driver for your safari, a guild to show you the route on Mt. Kilimanjaro., a couple porters to carry your bags, a chef to cook your food, and all hotels and guest houses serves complementary breakfast . . .. So by the time I made my way to Nungwi, the northern end of the Zanzibar island. I was one spoiled tourist(Mujungu). It doesn't help things, that the town turn out to be a resort town, and there we were chewing on foods(US$5) costing ten time what the locals would spend on their meals. Took us two days to realize that we are very spoiled indeed, and we are paying Mujungu prices for everything. This place can take out our wallet in no time, and we need to move.

To redeem our so call traveler's soul, we decided to take the Dalla-Dallas to the southern side of the island for some "Mujungu free" beaches. It'll save us each 4 dollars, but with only $30 cash in my pocket, that is like 10% of my cash reserves.

Well..., let me tell ya first a little bit about the Dalla-Dallas

The Dalla-Dalla is basically a Japanese company pickup/van spending it's second life here after a couple years of service in Japan. Still with its Japanese company logo pained on the sides, they put a wooden roof on top of the bed, and couple planks in there as benches. These are the main transport for much of the island, transporting people, cargo, and live stocks.

My partner, an Israeli, rode on it once. For me, it'll be my first time. The first leg of the journey isn't very bad, a little packed (just imagine 20-30 people sitting in a mini-van, with a couple more outside hanging in the back). We learned that it is really better to be packed with people, because if you are the only one in it, it is entirely possible to get tossed from one end of the car to the other when you hit a bump or when the driver step on either one of the pedals too quick.

The second leg of the journey was a little different. It started out with the half hour wait at the bus station, as the drivers loaded the Dalla-Dalla. I think he was doing the shopping for the whole village..., there were 10-20 bags of fertilizer, bags of this, bags of that....All goes to the roof top. Being the only two guys in the Dalla-Dalla, we were starting to worried that this thing is a little top heavy to be going onto dirt roads.

We were relieved, when the Dalla-Dalla started to take on more passengers. Okay..., at lease this thing won't flip over when we hit a bump or something. But more passengers, also mean more cargo...They loaded a bed up there (he is moving?), baskets of bananas, couple bags of char-coal....So, by this time. Anytime the car makes a slight turn, the whole roof starts to sway from one side to the other, and let out a loud squeak. I had ridden on worst car than this in China, but that rusty tin-can thing makes so much noise, you get so use to it after a few minutes. But this squeak, was really squeaking our confidence away, five seconds at a time. Thoughts of the roof collapsing under all that weight, starts to come up... I did not like the idea of getting hit in the head and die with my nose bury in fertilizers...and neither does my partner there.

So, we worked it out. We'll get off at the next stop and hitch another ride to the south. One not so "squeaky". We told the crew a story that we wanted to get off to see the primate reserve nearby and got off at the the stop, and pretended to walk in that direction until the bus went out of sight. Somehow, I think the crews/passengers in that bus knew that we were getting a bit nervous, and probably overheard everything we said in the bus. They were probably just to polite to laugh in front of us (us being white and all).

While we waited on the side of the road, a local saw us came down from the bus and came by to ask if we needed any help. We proceeded to tell him about the roof and the fertilizers. Well... This guy didn't hold back at all. He let out a good laugh, and said: (while he was still laughing)

"The roof is very, very strong . . ..Hahahaa...."

I swear I can just hear him laughing, "Mujungu, Mujungu.......", but of course, they would never do that. . . . I wish they had, because I feel like one.

Sure enough, we had since saw Dalla-Dallas with far more stuff on the roof than what we had . . ..

Two days later, when we wanted to go back to Stone Town, my partner opted for the tourist transport, while I opted for the Dalla-Dallas, in a last desperate attempt to redeem myself. Fortunately, there weren't any bags of fertilizers up on the roof to test my nerves. Just a couple baskets of char-coals, and bananas. Yes, I was counting.... What can I say?

Mujungu?

The Chinese Mujungu

Mujungu, a Swahili word that means a "white person". In actual use, it had many connotations that goes beyond describing the light skin folks. It can mean "tourist", "idiot", "stupid", or a "wimp". . ., it really depends on who said it or how it was said.

I have heard the word uttered a few times in my presence, but never paid much attention to it, partly because it was not listed in the guidebook dictionary, and I really didn't know what it means. By the time I got to Zanzibar, I had already spend more than 2 weeks in Tanzania. Things had began to sink in slowly, and I started to get a feel of this place, and most importantly, I began to pickup some Swahili.

It is very easy to get yourself spoiled while traveling in Tanzania, because you are always getting taken care of. You get to be put into the special foreigner only cabin while on a ferry, you get a driver for your safari, a guild to show you the route on Mt. Kilimanjaro., a couple porters to carry your bags, a chef to cook your food, and all hotels and guest houses serves complementary breakfast . . .. So by the time I made my way to Nungwi, the northern end of the Zanzibar island. I was one spoiled tourist(Mujungu). It doesn't help things, that the town turn out to be a resort town, and there we were chewing on foods(US$5) costing ten time what the locals would spend on their meals. Took us two days to realize that we are very spoiled indeed, and we are paying Mujungu prices for everything. This place can take out our wallet in no time, and we need to move.

To redeem our so call traveler's soul, we decided to take the Dalla-Dallas to the southern side of the island for some "Mujungu free" beaches. It'll save us each 4 dollars, but with only $30 cash in my pocket, that is like 10% of my cash reserves.

Well..., let me tell ya first a little bit about the Dalla-Dallas

The Dalla-Dalla is basically a Japanese company pickup/van spending it's second life here after a couple years of service in Japan. Still with its Japanese company logo pained on the sides, they put a wooden roof on top of the bed, and couple planks in there as benches. These are the main transport for much of the island, transporting people, cargo, and live stocks.

My partner, an Israeli, rode on it once. For me, it'll be my first time. The first leg of the journey isn't very bad, a little packed (just imagine 20-30 people sitting in a mini-van, with a couple more outside hanging in the back). We learned that it is really better to be packed with people, because if you are the only one in it, it is entirely possible to get tossed from one end of the car to the other when you hit a bump or when the driver step on either one of the pedals too quick.

The second leg of the journey was a little different. It started out with the half hour wait at the bus station, as the drivers loaded the Dalla-Dalla. I think he was doing the shopping for the whole village..., there were 10-20 bags of fertilizer, bags of this, bags of that....All goes to the roof top. Being the only two guys in the Dalla-Dalla, we were starting to worried that this thing is a little top heavy to be going onto dirt roads.

We were relieved, when the Dalla-Dalla started to take on more passengers. Okay..., at lease this thing won't flip over when we hit a bump or something. But more passengers, also mean more cargo...They loaded a bed up there (he is moving?), baskets of bananas, couple bags of char-coal....So, by this time. Anytime the car makes a slight turn, the whole roof starts to sway from one side to the other, and let out a loud squeak. I had ridden on worst car than this in China, but that rusty tin-can thing makes so much noise, you get so use to it after a few minutes. But this squeak, was really squeaking our confidence away, five seconds at a time. Thoughts of the roof collapsing under all that weight, starts to come up... I did not like the idea of getting hit in the head and die with my nose bury in fertilizers...and neither does my partner there.

So, we worked it out. We'll get off at the next stop and hitch another ride to the south. One not so "squeaky". We told the crew a story that we wanted to get off to see the primate reserve nearby and got off at the the stop, and pretended to walk in that direction until the bus went out of sight. Somehow, I think the crews/passengers in that bus knew that we were getting a bit nervous, and probably overheard everything we said in the bus. They were probably just to polite to laugh in front of us (us being white and all).

While we waited on the side of the road, a local saw us came down from the bus and came by to ask if we needed any help. We proceeded to tell him about the roof and the fertilizers. Well... This guy didn't hold back at all. He let out a good laugh, and said: (while he was still laughing)

"The roof is very, very strong . . ..Hahahaa...."

I swear I can just hear him laughing, "Mujungu, Mujungu.......", but of course, they would never do that. . . . I wish they had, because I feel like one.

Sure enough, we had since saw Dalla-Dallas with far more stuff on the roof than what we had . . ..

Two days later, when we wanted to go back to Stone Town, my partner opted for the tourist transport, while I opted for the Dalla-Dallas, in a last desperate attempt to redeem myself. Fortunately, there weren't any bags of fertilizers up on the roof to test my nerves. Just a couple baskets of char-coals, and bananas. Yes, I was counting.... What can I say?

Mujungu?