Highway to……..

A final beer in Peponi yesterday evening

It was with a heavy heart that I climbed into my taxi this morning. In the breaking pre-dawn light and to the sounds of gentle waves lapping the beach, I walked from our banda (hut) in Peponi down the fine sandy paths to the car. Met by the warm greeting of our ‘taxi-driver’ friend, we loaded up my bags, and set off.

I left my sleeping children and sleepy wife to head back to the UK. They will be heading off to Australia in four days’ time (brought forward) for our original planned holiday ‘on the way back’ to the UK. Perhaps slightly inconveniently, I now have to ‘pop back’ to the UK first, to address my future career prospects. I will be flying out to re-join them in Australia in a week’s time. Life is never dull.

It is a long drive to the airport, the first hour of which was on dusty bumpy tracks, before joining the main tarmacked road from Tanga to Dar es Salaam. Half-way there (about 4 hours in), the unusually late  rainy season (by a good 3 weeks) finally declared its intention to begin. Nothing too exciting fortunately, but some heavy intermittent rain showers hammered upon the roof and windscreen. It was deafening and made driving all the more exciting – more ‘excitement’ is definitely not required. We passed several crashed vehicles (including a lorry that had gone off the side of the road), but fortunately, our driver is excellent and I felt very safe in his hands. Interestingly, the temperature on the car thermometer dropped from 35°C to a mere 24°C – and I certainly noticed that I was probably more comfortable than I had been for the vast majority of our time here. What a pleasure not to be hot and sticky!

We passed the time with a healthy conversation of mixed Swahili and English (his English being far better than my Swahili, but it is fun nevertheless). We were pulled over by the Police a few times (such things seem an almost compulsory part of any long journey) and documents and licences were dutifully checked. Apart from that, the journey was otherwise fairly uneventful until we were about 40min from the airport….

We encountered the most enormous traffic jam, joining the back of what would turn out to be a monster. The sort of which I just don’t think happens in Europe. With only a few of the most major routes across the country tarmacked, and then only as single carriageway, when disaster strikes, it is carnage. Later, we would learn that it was over 20km long. Odds on caused by some form of traffic accident exacerbated by the rains. Road etiquette is pretty crazy. Once the traffic had been stationary for a while, options started to emerge. Firstly, we followed a number of other cars driving down the opposite side of the road – whilst slow, this was still fairly exciting as it was often up blind summitted hills. Then when the occasional car came the other way, we would drive up the opposite hard shoulder. This worked well until we then encountered a major road improvement project (they are making part of this road into a dual carriageway) where the hard shoulder tapered out. This was about the same time that more frequent vehicles started coming in the opposite direction, including some massive lorries. I was bemused to see some of the ‘Bunge’ (covered three wheel motorbikes – ‘rickshaws’) as well as a few cars electing to use the ‘under construction’ portion of the road. Surprisingly, they did not just sink into the sand, but I was relieved that we did not follow. Something you just would never see in Europe.

We were in trouble though. Already 45min had passed and progress was minimal, a few kilometres at best. I had had plenty of time to get to the airport, but having felt completely laid back about things, was now starting to wonder if we would make it in time. Every hill we climbed revealed a huge line of stationary traffic snaking into the distance. As luck would have it, as we ground to a halt yet again, a local indicated an ‘off-piste’ alternative. This diversion was risky given the rains, but the car managed the muddy tracks well and we started to make significant progress towards our next goal – the split in the highway that turns off towards the airport.

We were within spitting distance of the split, less that 1km away, but unfortunately we had reached the end of this rat run. We had been deposited in a rather large lorry park. The back routes could take us no further and we sat waiting with the other ‘ratrunners’ to re-join the main road. The minutes ticked by and it was becoming painful. Time was getting tight. It was only 1km to the turnoff and the ‘word on the ground’ was that the route to the airport was clear, if only we could get there. But we were going nowhere. Eventually, my driver suggested that we hire a Bunge (rickshaw) as it could squeeze past the traffic – he could park up and we would go together. More waiting and just as we were about to change vehicles, things started to move. We re-joined the carriageway and could see the turning up ahead. There was hope! Some further creative driving got us to the junction, and we were free.

I made it to the airport in ample time, checked in, sent my hold baggage now crammed with souvenirs up the belt (the surgical instruments had been replaced by African crafts) and headed to security.

I write this in the airport restaurant waiting to board my plane. This is it. I am done. I really am leaving Tanzania.