EdUKaid

Last time I had trouble figuring out what to write. This time I might end up writing an entire novel. Hopefully, everybody in and around EdUKaid knows that at present there are four heroes (or maniacs - dependent on definition) going on bicycle from Dar Es Salaam to Mikindani. I am not going to steal their tale, as they should be allowed to tell that on their own accord, but just to give you an introduction to the challenge that they are faced with, let me take you back a few days to Thursday the 19th of June. This was the day that Tim Dench and I headed for Dar-es-Salaam in a big, strong, powerful, 4×4, Land Rover; the support vehicle for the boys on their way south.

Tim and I left Mikindani at 10.15am on Thursday, which should have seen us arrive in Dar Es Salaam around 7 o’clock in the evening. We got off to a decent start. We were doing around 90 kilometres per hour (55mph) all the way to Kilwa, which is almost halfway to Dar. In Kilwa we dropped off a passenger, and with her we seemed to drop off all our good luck too. 50 kilometres outside Kilwa the car overheated. We had plenty of time so we just laughed about it and pulled over to fill it with more water so that we could get going. However, the engine did not seem to want to cool down. It did not help that we were on a strip of road where shadow from the sun was more difficult to find than a needle in a haystack. So, as we had time, I took out some chapattis (Indian flatbread) that I had brought as lunch snack, put them straight onto the engine block and a few minutes later we were able to sit in the shadow of the car and have nice warm chapattis. Simply too bad we had not brought a few slices of meat or a few eggs for an omelette. After an hour we decided that it was time to go whether or not the car had cooled off. We had been wise enough to stop on a hilltop, so we were able to jumpstart the car going downhill. We must have driven about 15 kilometres when the car decided once again to overheat. This time we were able to pull over in a small village.

In the village, people gathered round the vehicle to figure out who we were and why on earth we had pulled over in their little village. We asked some locals if they could perhaps take a look at the car, as neither Tim nor I are anywhere close to being mechanics. The local guys rather quickly found the problem; some part of the engine’s water system had sort of “blown up” due to high pressure caused by the high temperature. Being in the middle of nowhere, spare parts are a major issue so local solutions are always the best or only way to go. To fix the hole in the engine the local guy asked for 1000 Tanzanian shillings, (50 pence) to buy superglue…. Tim paid and the guy came back with a tube of superglue, two cigarette butts, and some wheat flour. Tim and I looked at one another in a sort of ‘are-we-on-earth?’ kind of way, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. The butts were stripped and then put in the hole in the engine; superglue was added, then flour and more superglue, more flour and superglue. Eventually the hole was closed with this strange mixture that turned out to harden like concrete. Unfortunately, this did not cure the car. The problem was apparently the water pump, which was not something that the local guys could fix. The alternative then: get towed…… We stopped a random truck on the road and asked if he was willing to tow us all the way to Dar, 250 kilometres. We settled the price and were getting ready to go when I went into the car to put my camera in my bag, only to find that my bag had been stolen from the car. It turned out that when we had been standing with our head in the engine someone had actually opened the rear, crawled in and taken my bag. I must say that I completely panicked as I had my passport and my insurance papers in the bag. Luckily, the car was situated right outside the village chairman’s office so we went and explained to him what had happened. Now, stealing is one of the worst things that people can do in Tanzania, at least stealing from Tanzanians; there seem to be a different rate of tolerance if the victim is white. However, within an hour I had my bag back only missing my sunglasses, shampoo, shaving foam, razor, deodorant, and mosquito spray. Everything else was still in the bag. I guess the thief will be the cleanest man in the village for the next few weeks.

Back to the car we went and off we left, being pulled by a big petrol truck with capital letters written on the back of the truck saying DANGER. In the next village we bought a few bolts in order to put more pieces of chain together for us to get some more distance from the ‘danger’. We were surprised to find that we could do nearly 60 kilometres per hour on the road and we swiftly tried to make an estimate in terms of arrival. With luck we would be in Dar a little after midnight. Half an hour later that estimate was completely shattered when we hit the 60 kilometres where the road has yet to be built. Being towed on paved tarmac road is all right but being towed on a dirt track where one pothole is surrounded by yet more potholes is simply madness. The steel chain and the bolts kept breaking, which meant stopping over and over again to mend the chain before setting off again at an even lower speed than before. When we had travelled the first 30 kilometres of bad road, we came to a small village with a police barrier. Nobody was allowed to travel on without police escort because of armed gangs of robbers on the road. Off we went to pull some innocent police officers out of their beds to escort us on our 15 kilometres per hour journey through the bumpiest piece of sand road on earth. After yet another few hours we finally made it through and hit good solid tarmac. I think both Tim and I sent some thoughts to the man/woman who invented tarmac.

At the break of dawn we were still one hundred kilometres outside Dar Es Salaam. We started to talk about watching the sunrise on the horizon when we pulled over at a police checkpoint. We spent less than an hour at this place but both Tim and I fell asleep within five seconds and of course missed the sunrise completely. In contrast to the night, the remainder of the drive was as absolute joy and when the clock struck 11.15am we were pulled into a garage in Dar Es Salaam. We simply left the car in the hands of the mechanics and jumped into a taxi to run the thousand errands on our slightly tainted itinerary. We finished at around six, where we had managed to get halfway through the list of errands as well as buy a motorcycle. It was almost a pity that we stayed in a rather fancy hotel, as we were completely oblivious to anything. However, we made it and the guys are now on their bicycles. Hopefully with a vehicle that supports them, and not the other way around.

I must finish by mentioning that I drove a 125cc motorcycle from Dar Es Salaam to Mikindani the following day. Luckily, the bike did not break down but I can tell you that today I am still aching all over. Therefore, I send my sympathies to the four guys on the road right now. I hope you make it for the barbeque on Saturday or at least the flight back to Dar on Tuesday

Kennet Christensen