Thoughts on Tanzania

After the initial excitement of settling in and travelling, which have characterised our first few months here, we’ve inevitably had to settle down a bit. Apart from anything, I’m not being paid to go visit Tanzania- I do actually have to do some work on occasions. This being the case, I have no further travels or holidays to describe on this posting so I thought I’d do something a bit different. Since arriving here a number of questions have popped up both in conversation with people back home and in my own mind. I thought I’d answer a few of them here- an attempt to clear my own mind as much as to satisfy the curiosity of others.

What has been the impact of the events in Kenya on our lives?

In truth, we’ve not been affected too much. There hasn’t been a huge flow of refugees from the north and, even if that had been the case, the large northern cities such as Arusha and Mwanza would have taken the brunt. For sure there have been a few people come to spend time in the safety of Tanzania but by no means a flood of refugees.

The main impact has been far more mundane. For one thing, the port of Mombasa has been more or less completely closed since the troubles started. This has meant that many more vessels than normal have been using the port here in Dar. This resulted both in our shipment being delayed as the vessel had to sit outside port for three weeks waiting for a slot, and also a delay in getting the shipment through customs- the overload on customs now means a lead time of two weeks.

We’ve noticed an impact on prices too. Basically our provisions fall into three categories. You have basic foodstuffs such as fruit, vegetables, fish, meat, rice etc which are locally produced. These are unaffected by events to the north of course. At the other extreme you have Western branded products such as Kellogs Cornflakes or French wine. These are always very expensive ($7 for a small pack of cornflakes anyone?) as they are flown in from around the world. Finally you have products manufactured in Kenya- local brand cereals for example. What we’re finding is that the supply of these cheaper products has more or less dried up. This is forcing us to the more expensive western brands and making the food bill more costly. When we were on Zanzibar, we noticed that petrol prices had tripled overnight. Again this was because petrol came in from Mombasa and this supply had been squeezed hugely.

So in short, the events in Kenya have had a small impact on our lives- mostly in terms of prices. However, we’re also very much aware that this is pretty small stuff compared to the horrors that people to the north are going through right now.

Could the violence in Kenya happen here?

I’m no expert on Tanzania but from what little I’ve garnered from my time here and especially from conversations with my Tanzanian colleagues, the answer would appear to be “possibly”.

It is always possible that violence could break out but not, apparently, for the same reasons. We should remember that there are some important distinctions between Kenya and Tanzania.

Firstly, Kenya has always had a repressive violent streak; Kibaki only came to power himself after a long and violent period of rule by Daniel Arap Moi. Tanzania on the other hand has generally seem smooth transfers of power. Nyerere may have had an authoritarian streak to him, but since his departure over twenty years ago a succession of rulers have come and gone.

Secondly, we need to understand the role of tribalism in the Kenyan conflict. One interpretation of what is going on is that you have two big tribes- the Kikuyu and the Lua- butting heads. In Tanzania you have over 150 tribes- some big, some small. Although there are some large tribes around, none of them are as dominant as the major Kenyan tribes. In addition, you have a tacit unwritten agreement that the roles of President and Prime Minister should always be filled by people from the smaller tribes. This in itself seems to have addressed the very scenario playing out to the north.

However, my Tanzanian friends and colleagues are very keen to point out that just because the specific causes of Kenya’s violence are not found here, it does not mean that violence cannot break out for other reasons. There seems to be a growing disparity between a rich minority and the poor majority. The fact that Tanzania spent decades under the socialist rule of Nyerere, means that this disparity is especially keenly felt here. The press is quite open here, meaning that people are aware of so many instances of corrupt, self serving politicians and civil servants enriching themselves at the expense of the average person. If violence does break out, it is likely to be a reaction of an angry impoverished majority, sick at the self serving corrupt behaviour of the elite.

What is the relationship between the expats and the locals

Although I’m not aware of any resentment towards expatriates coming from the Tanzanian people, I have to say that there have been instances where I’ve been amazed at their sheer patience and forbearance towards some of my co- citizens. Now before I write much more I should make it clear that in most regards, our fellow expats are very nice people and have been most friendly and welcoming to us. However, many people we talk with do have this rather annoying habit of moaning!

In three years of expat living, I’ve come to realise that expats frequently complain and are rarely grateful for the exceptional standard of living they have. When I say exceptional, I don’t mean just in comparison to the local community- although in terms of income we earn hundreds of times more than they do. I, and the other expats have a far better standard of living that we could ever hope to achieve back home- that, of course, is one reason why we’re here!

While I was in Egypt, I found it quite easy to rationalise the behaviour of the slightly more boorish expat. Firstly, a lot of these people were very young, perhaps a trainee only a year or so out of university, and were therefore not used to the implied seniority that expats have in a local company. From being mere students, they suddenly find themselves guiding local employees and also managing domestic staff, drivers etc. Unsurprisingly, this can go to your head! In addition, we found that those who were employees of the larger corporations (BP and BG for example) were there on rotation and had little real desire to be there. Someone who has been born and bred around Aberdeen and has then gone to work for the local employer- BP- might suddenly find themselves in Egypt. To ask people like this to adapt to a foreign culture is always quite a hard request to make and, understandably, not everyone copes. Egypt was a pretty soft assignment and an easy start for us. For many, however, it was an unwelcome period in a strange country to be got through as quickly as possible.

Tanzania on the other hand seems to attract a different type of expat. Rather than the young and slightly naïve person you’d encounter in Cairo, the typical expat here has been living overseas for years, often decades. They therefore expect houses to be big, servants to be obedient and servile and for the swimming pool to be clean. Many work for development agencies or for NGO’s and often have a rather patronising view of Tanzanians. Already we’ve encountered more people than we could imagine who complain that Tanzania is an incredibly hard assignment. Sure, things can be tough professionally at times but this is no different to most emerging markets. However the country is safe and stable, we’re a stone’s throw from the Indian Ocean and quality of life is exceptional. The fact that a plumber might not get it right first time may be irritating but it’s not the end of the world- perhaps some people have been expat for so long that they have lost sight of what normal life is actually like.

Added to this, I find that attitudes to Tanzanians are often pretty awful. Only at the weekend I found myself sitting at a table next to a British guy who starting swearing at a waiter in front of his kids. The reason for this humiliation? The waiter was trying to place a cup of coffee on the table at the same time the man was shifting his chair. He launched into an x- rated tirade about “not wanting to have to cope with dumb Tanzanian waiters as well as with his kids”. Sadly, this is the type of person the UK and other Western countries is exporting to Africa all too frequently. Overt racism may have gone out of fashion but the underlying contempt is still there- that man would not have dared speak like that in the UK.

My experience so far is that people are generally very nice but expats really do moan way too much and make very little effort to fit in. Somehow we manage to feel outrage at the reports of immigrants coming to the UK and not leaning English but at the same time feel equally outraged at Tanzanian workmen who don’t speak English properly here in Dar! The concept of actually learning Swahili is enough to send many of my counterparts into fits of apoplexy- which is why my lessons start tomorrow! One of the reasons for writing this blog and documenting all we’ve seen and done is to remind myself that however hard it is, we’re extremely privileged to live this kind of life. The second Soma and I believe otherwise, we’ll what all disgruntled expats should do and head back home!

A Weekend in Zanzibar

What a cheesy title for a blog entry! Actually I think it’s rather a good title- wasted in fact on a mere blog! “A Weekend in Zanzibar” is the title of the one book that apparently resides inside me, perhaps a screenplay of some pretentious exotic romance starring some artistically pained French bloke trying to pull Kristin Scott Thomas. Well , since I’m too busy helping to run a power station to do much more than this blog, the title will have to be wasted on an account of the Chubb family’s first holiday of the year.

To paraphrase (plagiarise actually) more or less every guide book on the place, the name Zanzibar evokes sensuous images of an exotic paradise- palm trees, white sandy beaches, emerald water and the lingering smells of strange perfumes and spices. That’s all well and good but lets be honest here- in common with most people, before coming to Tanzania, I knew more or less zip about the place. In terms of geography, I knew it was somewhere exotic and warm and near Africa; of its history I knew that Freddy Mercury was born there. I now know a little more so before dealing with the first Chubb (or Sandvid/ Mitra etc, etc) expedition to the island, it probably makes sense to impart a bit of this new knowledge.

Zanzibar is not actually an island; it is the name given to an archipelago situated close to the Tanzanian mainland. The largest island, Unguja, is about twenty minutes flying time north east of Dar es Salaam and is home to the majority of the population and to Zanzibar’s capital, Zanzibar City.

A typical Zanzibar beach scene

The archipelago has a varied history and, all around, you can see the influences of myriad cultures. Actually, one thing I’ve picked up from my travels is just how much the people bordering the Indian Ocean share a culture. This should not be a surprise given that the concepts of “Mediterranean culture”, “Mediterranean cuisine” and the suchlike are widely understood. Here, you have a language- Swahili- that is replete with Arabic and even Hindi words. Traditional food is based on fish, coconut, mango, papaya- just as we found in Goa. Whereas South India has the “dosa” a rice pancake, Tanzania has “ugali”- more or less the same thing.

If there is such a thing as Indian Ocean culture, then Zanzibar has always been right in the thick of it. The monsoon winds blowing regularly between Africa and Asia brought traders carrying wares in small dhows and large ships over from India and the Arabian Gulf, ready to do business in Africa. Situated so close to Africa, Zanzibar has always held an important position as a trading post. This was recognised by the Portuguese who, in 1505 (only six years after Vasco da Gama had first clapped eyes on the place), brought Zanzibar into their empire. Portuguese rule was supplanted by that of the Sultan of Oman in 1698. In 1861, Zanzibar and Oman split into two sultanates, heralding a short lived period of independence for Zanzibar. In 1890, this came to an end as Zanzibar became a formal British protectorate, a status it held until 1963, when independence was granted. However, blink and you missed that period of independence. Within a year, the Sultan was overthrown and Zanzibar merged with Tanganyika. TAN merged with ZAN and in 1964, the state of Tanzania was born.

A mere 44 years later, Zanzibar was graced with the arrival of four Chubbs. We stepped off a rather small and ageing plane, not particularly exhausted after a flight of 20 minutes. It really is amazing how much more I resent the long drawn out procedures at the airport when the time spent in the airport was five times that spent in the air!

We breezed through arrivals in Zanzibar and soon found ourselves at the Zanzibar Beach Resort. The hotel itself had some of the best facilities, the most beautiful backdrop and the most clueless staff I’ve ever encountered. I won’t go into depth about our experiences with staff there- it’s depressing and I’ll start to throw things. In any case, the hotel was beautiful and we settled down for an afternoon of swimming in an enormous pool, all excited by the trips we’d planned over the following two days.

Friday morning we were up and breakfasted nice and early. At 8.30, our guide arrived and we were off on our first trip- the almost obligatory spice tour. A short drive took us to a small spice farm on a hill just north of the capital. Although it didn’t look very impressive, that wasn’t the point- it sure smelled impressive! Wandering through their grounds, we built up a collection of pungent lemongrass, peppercorns, nutmeg, cinnamon, turmeric, cardamon and more or less any spice you’d care to mention. All were grown here although most were not native to the island- brought in over time from India, Arabia, Persia, Malaysia and even from the Americas. After a tour of the place, we sat down to eat some of their fruits and to drink locally made (and very spicy) tea.

Soma and the boys in search of spices- the boys need their curry after all!

After a short interlude watching one of the local guys climbing a palm tree (and Soma’s abject attempt to imitate- your Goan childhood was some time ago dear!, we climbed back into the tour bus and headed into the capital to catch a boat to Prison Island.

Prison Island is the rather ominous English name given to Changuu Island, a small island just a mile or two west of Unguja. To get there, we took a small dhow- a trip made significantly more perilous by the strong winds blowing at the time. For just over half an hour we were tossed around and soaked by waves until finally reaching the island.

The island gets its name from a prison built on it by the British in the 19th century. Although the prison was completed, it was never actually used. An outbreak of cholera across the Indian Ocean resulted in the island and the prison being used to house cholera patients instead. Thankfully the disease is no longer present. What is present however, is a sanctuary for a large collection of tortoises, brought over from the Seychelles in the late 19th century. Kieran was, as usual, frightened of the tortoises at first, but, once we convinced him that the slow lumber was their top speed, he relaxed noticeably. We must have seen over fifty of the creatures- ranging from small newborns to enormous adults- possibly old enough to have been among the original batch brought over from the Seychelles!

Soma and Rohan (hidden) petting a rather big turtle on Changuu Island

We had lunch in the prison grounds, petted a few more tortoises, then headed to the beach before climbing back in the boat for the journey home. Luckily for us, the wind had abated a little and we arrived back on Unguja slightly less wet and frightened than at the end of our first dhow ride!

Saturday morning and the Chubb family was again on the road bright and early. This time, we were heading south, to the bottom of the island to a place called Kizimkazi. Although a little worried at the prospect of a whole morning on the same style of dhow we’d endured the previous day, fears were allayed when we realised that the bay was very sheltered and calm. Decked out in our swimming gear, we headed briskly out to sea to go find some dolphins.

As with many instances on our travels, the plan didn’t quite come off. First of all, the brisk pace lasted all of five minutes until the motor gave out. For the rest of the morning we limped along as both dolphins and the myriad other boats zipped about. The second problem was that of the other boats. Okay, so Kizimkazi is known for its dolphins and we were not so naïve as to assume we’d be the only people out looking for them. However, we were one of maybe twenty boats all pursuing the dolphins- only our boat didn’t really work! In scenes reminiscent of Moby Dick, someone would spot the dolphins and the dubious little armada would head off to intercept them. Once close, the tourists would plunge into the sea to swim with them. Sadly the dolphins didn’t want to swim with us and sped off, leaving the rather inadequate humans floundering in their wake. We did see a lot of dolphins and to be honest, the sight of these boats in hot pursuit of and clearly outclassed by these beautiful animals was quite amusing but, as the novelty wore off, we headed to a coral reef for an hour or so of snorkelling. If the dolphins were impressive, the sheer colour and beauty of the coral reef was stunning. The water was clear as crystal and looking down into it was like swimming in a giant tropical aquarium. Apart from the coral, we saw rays, jellyfish and fish after colourful fish- I could have stayed there for hours!

A combination of torn swimming trunks, bored kids and a guide who needed us to make one final stop finally tore us away from the reef and we headed back to the beach and into the tourbus for the journey back north.

The journey held one last surprise for us. We knew that, as a bonus, the guide was going to take us through Jozani Forest and that we might see a monkey or two. Jozani forest is the main habitat for the Red Colobus monkey- a rare species found only on Zanzibar. I thought we might see some from the road. Imagine our surprise when we made a short tour into the forest and saw not just a couple but tens of these monkeys playing in the trees just yards from our noses. For an endangered species, these guys seemed very much at ease and were not especially bothered by our presence. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I’d be sure the monkeys were showing off!








A Red Colobus Monkey in Jozani Forest- in a tree above my head minding his own business

This diversion marked the last of our little visits on Zanzibar. The next day we were on a plane and back home in a flash. I’m sure this visit will not be our last one to either Unguja or its smaller neighbours. This island really did live up to its reputation. The scenery is beautiful; the flora is so vivid and colourful, sprouting off almost every spice imaginable; it is so full of wildlife we managed to see giant tortoises, dolphins and rare monkeys in less than a couple of days. This place is truly alive! After our weekend here only one question remained- what on earth possessed Freddy Mercury to leave there and go to south London?

Sunset- taken from the beach outside our hotel on Unguja

Our First Festive Season in Tanzania

It seems that we were somewhat in the minority as far as expats go here in Tanzania. By the time we got back from Mikumi, the expat exodus was well and truly underway. By the time Christmas had arrived, most of our friends were back in whichever country they came from leaving behind a rather quiet and empty Msasani Peninsula.

Christmas was certainly different this time round, but I wouldn’t say it was any less fun for the four of us. It followed a traditional pattern but some things were just a little bit well….. different.

As tradition dictates, we were woken up bright and early by a couple of very enthusiastic small boys, keen as mustard to open their presents. As with generations before them (well their parents at least), they opened their presents in two seconds flat and then began angling for permission to open our presents too! Happily, the boys were very pleased with their haul- most notably a couple of big wooden vehicles from the “they don’t make them like that any more” era. Fortunately, someone in Tanzania does make them like that still- oddly though, he is a big Swiss bloke called Bernard Straub. Strange really- we always expected to find traditional wood toys here; just not Swiss!

The rest of the morning was a departure from the usual Christmas events in that we made a visit to the swimming pool. This was partly an attempt to kill time and build an appetite for dinner and partly an effort on Kieran’s part to test my new goggles. In a desperate attempt to feel Christmassy, we then phoned home to see if anyone was up (they were- just).

Soma and the boys outside our local pub, the George and Dragon just before heading in for Christmas Dinner

In the afternoon, we headed down to the George and Dragon- our local pub- for Christmas dinner. We spent a very happy afternoon with the remainder of the expat community feeling much more festive as we worked our way through a large dinner (Kieran has developed a major taste for turkey) and finally managed to listen to those great classic songs from Slade, Wizzard and (ever so ironically in a pub in Africa, full of regulars demolishing a massive Christmas lunch) Band Aid.

A quiet evening of Quality Street and Bristol Cream ensued to bring to a close our first Southern Hemisphere Christmas. We had had fun, bits were quite festive and we even got the music in the end. However, it will take a few more years before a poolside Christmas feels right!

The boys and I on the beach over the Christmas break
New Year duly followed a week later and we celebrated in a low key manner. Not only was this the end of 2007 but also of our stay in the apartment complex that has been our home for the past two months. We clubbed together with some of our friends (a group of South Africans and a Malaysian couple) and had a barbecue.

As we chatted through the evening, I cast my mind back a year to when Soma and I toasted the New Year in our apartment in Cairo. At that time we both felt that 2007 would be an eventful year. Well, undeniably this has been the case. Looking at the list of stressful things to happen in life, we’ve gone through some of the big ones! Happily we’re not divorced or widowed and, to my knowledge do not have any new offspring! However, if selling a house is meant to be stressful, then selling a $400 million power station is good deal more so! If moving house and changing jobs is tough then those boxes have been ticked and then some. However, this is not to say that we’ve not enjoyed ourselves. My job, though hard going at times this year, has also been deeply involving. Moving from Cairo to Tanzania has been stressful for sure, but also a lot of fun. We’ve said goodbye to the pyramids, the desert and the mosques but have so much more to see here in 2008. 2007 was a very full year for us all- I hope we’ll have many more like it!