The trip to Sumbawanga, which, for reasons I will explain, expanded from four to five days. The first leg was ma red-eye from Phoenix to JFK. It’s amazing how many people fly in the middle of the night. Used to be you could get some sleep on those flights but no more. Oversold. US Airways was very gracious allowing me to check the extra 110 pounds or so of medical equipment for free.
So there I was with four pieces of luggage weighing more than I do taking the Airtrain between terminals that could not be farther apart. Arriving at the Emirates counter I had an hour wait for the flight to Dubai to open. Very interesting people fly Emirates. While waiting I met a real live sheik, a lady in a burka who had no compunction about telling me her whole life story and a man who owns, no kidding, an internet porn shop who does business by some subterfuge in the middle east. Emirates, too, allowed the overweight and over-number baggage for free. And what an airline it is. Emirates ranks right up there with the best along with Singapore and others like it. Even though I couldn’t wrangle an upgrade the seating, service and food were as good as any first class service I’ve had on domestic airlines. This was true for the connecting flight to Dar es Salaam making this portion of the trip pleasurable. This was good because total flight time from Phoenix to Dar with layovers was 29 hours.
I was met at the airport in Dar by a charming lady from Paraguay named Carolina. As a Healthcare Volunteer, her job was to get me through Dar and on to the bus the following day. I had her take me to a hotel at the O’Willie’s Irish Pub on the ocean. I remember having the best shepherds’ pie ever at that place and I wanted it again. I was not disappointed and the hotel there was passable for one night. At 5 in the morning my stuff was loaded into a cab by 2 guys in full Massai dress and I was off to the bus station.
The human mind has a merciful component that allows it to forget pain. For this reason I had put out of my memory just how unpleasant 2 days on an African bus can be. Though it looks small on the map of Africa, Tanzania is actually bigger than France. I took what I thought was an express to Mbeya, a distance of about 500 miles. Here "express" means they sell you a specific seat. After that all bets are off. Stopping at every town and village to take on or discharge passengers the bus is often packed with people in the aisles hanging over the seats and giving one a very cramped feeling. Still, I was able to read some and sleep. Thirteen hours later the bus pulled into a dark, dusty bus station in Mbeya. Thjs was the good leg of the trip.
I had decided to stay there an extra day, partly because I had some things I wanted to do and also because I wasn’t going to endure 2 days in a row on the bus. Last year, not knowing that Mbeya is a fairly large, cosmopolitan city, I stayed overnight at a murky inn near the bus station that had all of the charm of a Turkish prison. (Think Midnight Express.) I was scared to death and got out of their fast in the morning. On the way home, by private transportation, I got to see the city and stayed in a fairly nice place called the Golden City. It’s a hotel that caters to wealthy Muslims and is clean and safe with beautiful sculptured gardens in front. The interior is done completely, walls and floors, in shiny white tile. Alcohol is not served in the restaurant so if you want beer with your saffron flavored beef and rice you are relegated to the bar. A small, comfortable room with internet service and decent food for $25/night, what more could you ask?
My reasons for staying an extra day were to re-visit the hospital there to see an American acquaintance working in an AIDS project there and to seek out an orphanage I had visited to find a very special child. Those of you who have been to our home know that I have been displaying a photo of an adorable 3 year old that I happened on last year. In the photo she is wearing her Sunday best red dress and throwing a killer smile. I wanted to see and photograph her again but I did not know the name of the orphanage or where it was.
I went one for two. My Dr. friend had returned to the states so no contact there. When a foreign doctor shows up at a hospital he is treated with great respect and introduced all around. Among the people I met was the director of social services for the area and, from my description, he was able to tell me exactly where the orphanage was. I had hired a driver for the day and we immediately set out and found it with no trouble. The place was almost deserted with a Massai guard and a badly crippled woman overseeing the place. They told us most of the children were gone on some sort of holiday but we were welcome to look around. I talked to and photographed 3 small boys who told me there were no girls there. Disappointed, I wandered over to the grove of trees where I had seen the little girl last year and unbelievably she emerged with a companion. Her name is Priska. She has grown in a year. She was in dirty play clothes but the face was unmistakable. She immediately started laughing and flashing that smile and I had what I came for. Then off she and her companion ran laughing into the woods. I must have some kind of karma going on with this child. Don’t worry though, it is not permitted to adopt out of Tanzania.
You found our little African Liberty! Is it possible for us to collect things for her and her family for you to bring on your way back? Or maybe just ship? She is so precious.
Posted by: Jessica | June 22, 2008 at 09:58 AM
As Catherine's grandparents, we enjoy reading your descriptions of Tanzania and hospital life there. Having worked in hospitals since I was 14 and as a radiologic technologist for 50 years, I applaud your work there.
Joyce Matthys
Posted by: Joyce Matthys | July 12, 2008 at 06:47 AM