The road leading south from Dar es Salaam is a little off the beaten track, but full of wonder and adventure. Our first stop led us to the 13th century trading city ruins of Kilwa Kisiwani, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The merchants dealt in gold, silver, pearls, perfume, Arabian crockery, Persian earthward and Chinese porcelain; much of the trade in the Indian Ocean thus passed through their hands.
Over the years it grew as gold, ivory and slaves from the interior flowed and it housed some impressive Mosques and a Palace on the small island. Really enjoyed walking around the island and trying to imagine what life was like for the Sultan a few centuries ago.
We spent a night in Mikindani to break up our trip from Kilaw to the border and it was a most pleasant little town indeed. Set on a picturesque bay its small size is dwarfed by its interesting history. The town had a number of beautiful historic buildings including a restored German Boma, an old slave market and the house Dr Livingstone lived in before he embarked on his final journey. It wasn’t until later we found out that the supposed “slave market” was built by the Germans - well after the slave trade had been abolished and not only did Dr Livingstone not live in that house, he didn’t even stay in that town.
Our time in Tanzania has finally come to a close, but not without one last adventure – crossing the border into Mozambique. Everything departs early in Africa, 4.30am early, so I was a little surprised when the man at our hotel told us we’d be fine catching a bus at 7am. I wasn’t surprised when nothing but two minibuses, full even in African standards, passed without stopping. A call to a taxi – some dollars and we were off to a late start. We jumped into the back of a pick-up in Mtwara and before we know it we were being bounced around like a soccer ball. Another passenger told us he was traveling to Mozambique as well and said if we all got into the same boat; we’ll save a few bob. He knew someone that had a boat and we had a partner.
When we got to the river we all headed straight to the little boat waiting for us – passing the other touts screaming for our patronage. It was a small gondola that was poled by a man at the front and another at the back. I was excited as we pushed off, never having crossed a border quite like this before. Hippos started snorting and we poled past. It wasn’t until we were asked to pay our happiness ended. We watched as our friend handed over 15 times the price we expected. We checked they hadn’t got the currency wrong and that the exchange was correct, but we never asked on the shore, we just trusted our friend on the pick-up and jumped in. The unfortunate thing is when you’re on a small rickety boat in the middle of a river between two countries – there’s not another person or building in site, just water with crocks and hippos (did you know hippos kill more people in Africa than any other animal) and you’re left with very little choice but to hand over the extravagant amount of money and bite your lip.
As we pulled up to shore we passed what looked like a small pontoon – it turned out to be the roof of the sunken car ferry. Our “friend” who helped us across the border disappeared. Apparently he didn’t have a passport as we’d see him the other side of immigration, but we never saw him again. We’d been conned and we took the bait hook line and sinker. It was now 11am and the last bus to any town had left for the day. We were faced with a pick-up truck who too was asking an extravagant amount of money to take us to the nearest town or a walk to the border post, but it could be up to two hours to walk through a very isolated area and we quickly decided against the latter. We were again in a situation where we had little opportunity but to bite the bullet and accept the pick up’s ridicules offer. By the time we got to Mocimboa da Praia it would have worked out much more economical and enjoyable to have flown.
Next Stop “Ilha de Mocambique” so until then “Adios”
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