It takes about a week to settle into a new country – as I’ve mentioned there’s the currency and the culture, the roads, the distances and of course the camping. Tanzania spaces out her treasures; parks are at least a day’s drive apart. A full day driving here, say seven hours, is exhausting. Every few kilometers the speed drops and 2-lane-wide vicious speed humps announce the entrance to a village. Or maybe just a few food stalls, it does not matter. Tanzania loves its speed humps. Between the humps and the road conditions we average less than 50 clicks an hour (that’s 30 miles an hour, in case you don’t have Goggle open). 
And then there’s the police stops. Jim is amazing – he has apologized his way out of three (deserved) violations already. Our new routine is to move one day, stay in place two days. And so we have found ourselves on an Indian Ocean beach at the southern edge of Dar es Saleem, the capital city of Tanzania. I never imagined us here. But off the coast is Zanzibar Island – let’s go there.
Zanzibar does not deny its history of slavery and its slave market. There is an excellent tour and interpertive center; we went down into the dungeons where the captives were kept prior to the auctions. A more miserable place cannot be imagined. Sea water would come up with the tide to wash the sewage away, it could come up too high and drown the captives. Would a man be considered lucky to have made it this far on the deadly journey from the interior to the coast? Or would death on the road be preferable? Where would the will to live come from in this hell? It is so far from normal and yet was so normal at the time – and slavery continues, just in different formats these days. Zanzibar does not spare the details. 
An Anglican Church is built upon the former auction and whipping block. Guides give a just appraisal of the history – and if you were to come here to be informed and saddened, the tour goes on every day, all day.
The sobering experience of the slave market museum contrasts with Zanzibar Island, one of the most hospitable of places we’ve every been. 
Everyone is delightfully friendly and few are out to hustle you. We walked through dark and narrow alleys at night, lost on the way back to our hotel, and people would stop and ask, can we help you? Not your average dark-alley-late-night experience. Stone Town has the lazy island feel mixed with Indian and Arab architecture and along with the sordid history of slavery, they have preserved the birth place of Freddy Mercury – the Queen front man. 
All this makes for a culturally soaked four day visit and we got some good snorkeling in as well. The stunning blues of the Indian Ocean, the beaches of powered sugar sand, the fresh fish and dark coffee, the tour of the community spice plantation – it was a wonderful vacation from our “vacation”. And on we go.
Jim spent over an hour cleaning the blood out of the cab of the Beagle. He started with just a roll of towels but soon realized it would take more. Most of the blood is ours. It is smeared on the windows and the dashboard, on the console and the floor. We were attacked – by tsetse flies. Africa has many creatures that can easily kill you. Tsetse flies are on that long list. Their bite may or may not carry sleeping sickness – what will more likely kill you is when you are bitten, you’ll scream and swerve into oncoming traffic. The flies buzz around the windows just waiting for you to stop and roll it down for a photo. Then they come in as an army, deploy themselves in hiding places and wait for the right moment to strike. 
Whatever photo you took it better be NatGeo quality because you are going to pay for it in blood. We’ve developed a calculated method for killing these insects whose bites itch madly. My little note pad is excellent at smashing them – I like to wait for them to be in the center of the window, not the edge. The more smashed the better – tseses will get up fly off if you go easy on them. Jim is more of an edge smasher, window or dash he uses his hand. We pull off the track and wage war until we think they are gone only to have a few rear-guard troops come out hours later. 
We wonder if they are breeding fast somewhere in the car. Not to say they are spoiling anything for us – once we get near the rivers they disappear and we’ve yet to have them in camp. The cab needed a good cleaning anyway.
This is the biggest park in a country of huge parks. Not that we would see all of it, that would take years. It is indeed enormous, with great swaths of different ecosystems and rivers – all with fantastic scenery. The elephant population is the largest in the country and we found that elephants had different personalities in different parts of the park.
Over on the dry side we coasted up to a small group of seven medium size ellies, our windows rolled up and a big bush between us and them. No need to crowd them, we don’t get close. But they weren’t having any of it, one raised its foot, shook its head, and in a second it was charging the truck – a true charge, nothing mock about it. Punch it, Bishop… and the elephant running full on down the road after us. Interesting behavior as the group didn’t have babies that we noticed. They did seem small
to be off on their own, we wondered if the matriarch was far away. It pays to be so cautious, not get too close, have an exit plan. Another encounter had an elephant slowly walking up to us, sniffing and cocking its head, reaching out with its trunk – it appeared to be very curious. Unthreatening behavior. We still kept the windows up, we have heard of ellies reaching into cars with their trunks – that is not to be taken lightly. Most of the time elephant just do what they do – shake trees to get seed pods, play in the water, take dust baths, and generally socialize. I’d call it cheap entertainment, and it is endlessly entertaining, but it is not cheap. Parks here are expensive and worth it.
Ruaha also has many lions. We heard them roaring in the night and we were up early to see if we could find them. One can drive around all over looking for lion and not see them while missing other interesting sights. This is not fun and leads to disappointment. We leave camp and go to the place where lion had been seen, no luck there, so we moved to a scenic lookout and had our coffee. Down the road are a dozen giraffe, we stop and play with them. They come closer and closer to the truck – then suddenly they are intent on something behind us. What do you know, the giraffe are staring at a pride of lions who’d popped up out of a gully.
Nice! We turn the truck around and watch the them playing and butting heads until, exhausted by that, they lay down in the meager shade to rest. Four males and four females. This older female has an endearing look, with her lazy ear. The whole pride is still there when we go by in the afternoon. They had barely moved. It’s hot, why stress?
Where Katavi park had its palm trees, Ruaha has baobab trees by the thousands. Gigantic or enormous, or just plain huge, leafless or flowering, they are everywhere. Elephant tear and gouge at the trunks for the moisture and yet the trees survive with the scars to show. Some of the trees appear troll-like, others look like an alien spacecraft landed on a coke bottle. Holes in the trunks house birds, lion make use of the great shade the trunks cast. Baobabs – that’s “bow-bow”, as in bow to the queen, with a short o.
Vultures and storks flock to a lion-killed giraffe carcass and there is a vulture I have never seen. I must find an eastern Africa bird guide when we get to Dar Es Salaam, I am hopelessly out of range with my current book. There are fish eagles galore, screeching and crying all day – I have yet to see them actually fishing. 
This darling baby eagle owl had a swarm of lories harassing it, making so much racket we had to stop and investigate. Even as I have dozens of photos of bee eaters and kingfishers, I can’t stop shooting them. We follow the track along the river and wish we could stay for a year in Ruaha.
We’ve been in Tanzania a couple of weeks now and here on the western side one thing stands out – homes are drab. The exterior anyway. Dirt brown brick houses line the road from Zombe to Sumbawango and on to Mbeya. No colorful paint or decorative designs here, no five gallon buckets cut in half and filled with plants; few trees around the homes. Coming from Zambia, this is mind-boggling. Occasionally I see some “landscaping” but it is not the norm. Homes here all seem to be of the same vintage, the livable ones at least. We wondered if this whole area is a “housing development” for settling people; Tanzania has one of the world’s highest refugee populations. There are an astonishing number of unlivable homes mixed in with the newer ones. It seems as if when a home falls apart it is left there and a new one built next to it. This gives a village a haunting look, homes abandoned when their owners became zombies or something. I’ve got zombies on the brain.
The Great North Road runs through this country. Jim wants to start a campaign with the promise to make the Great North Road great again! We crawled along its length for close to 10 hours one day and yes, great is not the word I’d use to describe it. We pulled over to eat something and stretch – not a scenic spot, either – and I broke the coffee press. My precious! I could have sworn the press was plastic but when it flew out of its holder and broke into pieces, plainly it was glass. Jim 
laughed and said the look on my face was priceless. What luck that our camping destination that night was a coffee plantation. After that long drive the plantation was a relief and right at the reception were coffee presses for sale. Now we have a new precious, and a bag of ground coffee to go with it. Life is good.
The Zambian president, whose name is unimportant, declared a national emergency and instated martial law and curfew a few days prior to our departure. The US promptly issued a travel warning for tourists and many bookings were subsequently cancelled. The US does not want to be seen condoning undemocratic behavior, at least in countries where we have absolutely no interest whatsoever.
Why did the Zambian government risk bringing international condemnation? It is not likely an attempt to freeze the movement of the opposition – limiting the opposition is so easy for the president there hardly a need to go to the mattress. Meanwhile people in the countryside are indifferent. What does it matter if local travel is curtailed after dark – who goes out after dark? Road blocks are nothing new. Only in Lusaka was there much notice of the “emergency”. Expats told us that they were roadblocked on the first day of martial law and that there were bakkies with young national service guys driving around hooting and hollering and making traffic worse than usual. They said the next day, it was back to business. Unless you are a tour operator and your bookings just cancelled, that is. Zambia’s many problems; deforestation (the worst in the world), poverty, illiteracy, won’t be helped by these power plays. This current government is not the one who welcomed Congolese refugees and gave them land and citizenship. Those days are over. This government did, however, pass out free chitenges, the fabric sheets worn by most women, with the presidents’ face printed full size directly in the center. Women wear them with his face squarely on their butts. It is hilarious, can you imagine such a thing in the US these days?
Roadblocks are a part of life in Africa. “Where are you going?” “Where have you come from?” I’ve ceased being amused by these questions and now find them annoying and intrusive. Nothing to be done about it though – the height of stupidity would be to argue or be belligerent. More fun to just make up answers. Many policemen ask how they can get to the United States – they are unaware of how difficult that is. We don’t tell them, no need to be mean.
In the end though, Zambia has the most wonderfully friendly people and we loved our time there. The villages shine with brightly painted houses, potted plants and gardens even in the midst of poverty. On Sundays villagers dress up for church or socializing – the women are just lovely anyway and on Sundays they are gorgeous. The roads are pretty good – although maybe take a boat into Isanga. All the waving children, the hellos and fineandyous, feel genuine and sincere. A nice fishing village on Lake Tanganyika could be Eden.
Years ago I read an article about Katavi park in western Tanzania, famous for its remoteness and its huge herds of animals. I’ve been thinking about it ever since. When I told my sister Carolyn I wanted to drive there she said (and I quote) “you are out of your mind”. Now here we are, bush camping near a hippo pool with no one else around. The hippo pool smells. Bad. Try to imagine 70 or so hippos encased in thick mud, gunk and you know what else, under a blazing sun, with a nice breeze wafting the scent over to our camp. But who’s complaining? Birds flock to the sparse water holes – they get really dirty too, just like the hippos. 
Katavi is so unusual with its wide variety of palm trees and huge umbrella acacias and white ghost trees – the scenery is spectacular. A big surprise is the roads, they are graded and tidy and driving is pleasure. Yes, we really appreciated that after Lake Tang.
The hippos leave their mud spa every evening to graze. We can hear them grunting and heaving themselves out of the pool. The noises they make aren’t as musical as the hippos we camped with before. Water is drying up here and these creatures are getting uncomfortable. It won’t get better for them. The crocodiles don’t seem to mind, and they are enormous.
The birds congregate in huge numbers. 200 Open-billed storks land at once, then take off again. Yellow-billed storks mix with Saddle-billed storks and a lone Spoon-bill. This Palmnut Vulture hangs around, chasing off a stork to eat its fish. Jim builds an African-style fire and we enjoy our evenings, especially when the breeze shifts. Katavi is everything I hoped it would be. Maybe we can swing by on the return and see it in the green season.
Lake Tanganyika is the longest lake in the world and the second deepest after Lake Baikal in Russia. One sixth of the earth’s fresh water supply is contained here. One sixth of all the fresh water on the planet – put that in your hookah why don’t you. It is huge, ancient in the geological sense; like much of the African continent it has been in place for eons. Fishing villages dot the shoreline and the lights of the boats are stars on the water at night. Zambia has not applied any of its meager tourist infrastructure budget to Lake Tang. Over on the western border at Lake Mweru, we found heritage sites and pretty good camping at various waterfalls, but here at the most spectacular lake we have ever seen, there is barely a road.
Going into Ndole Bay on the western shore of the Tang takes a full day, with four long hours for the final 50 clicks. 
A most beautiful beach welcomes us and we stay five days, two of which are needed just to recover from the pounding drive. Coffee on the shore, swimming, idling around, and then it is sundowner time – perfect days. Ndole Bay visitors mostly come by boat, when there are visitors. The big draw is fishing. With a lake this big, you can imagine how big the fish must be.
The manager suggests we go out in the staff fishing boat. 
Good idea – it is a smaller craft with no shade cover; we don’t have to (or want to) stay out all day. Khosam the guide knows where to fish. We slayed them that morning, bottom-fishing for Ekupi, the “emperor” fish, said to be the best eating fish in the Tang. Bottom-fishing takes on a whole new concept when you are dropping bait in the second deepest lake on the planet. It takes a long time for the heavy weight to get down there and once you’ve got fish on, even longer to reel it up. We catch the emperor fish and florosa – a bubble-headed blue fish that tastes like lobster. Check out this strange eel-looking fish I caught on my first drop. Jim catches the biggest fish. Back at the dock Khosam filleted our catch for us. We left him with a nice stash. It was a lekker morning on Lake Tanganyika.
Isanga Bay is on the east edge of the lake, across from Ndole. To get there, we backtrack to the Thorn Tree Lodge in Kasama (for the second time) and resupply in town. The ladies selling produce see me coming and before you can say jack rabbit, we have enough produce for a week. I like those ladies and that town. Isanga Bay is not far, as the crow flies – right? 
Four hours of brutal rock road and the last 10 kilometers took an a quarter of that, just like the Garmin said. We broke a u-bolt on the Beagle – but that can be fixed. It is worth it to hang on the beach there. Isanga Bay could be a tourist mecca, but for the road. At Mpulunga we have the u-bolt replaced – the bush mechanic shows up at the “spare shop” and gets to work right there in the parking area. Did a good job too, for all of $20 including parts (. . . and labor).
Zambia is behind us now, after the quickest border exit ever at the tiny Zombe Border Post. That’s “Zomm-bay” not zombie, no matter what Jim says. Tanzania is welcoming but a new country means new customs and new currency – 10,000 TZS (shillings) equals $5USD – and Swahili is spoken more than English. Time to learn some new words.
On January 16 we drove away from our home to commence this journey and we marked six months gone a couple of weeks ago. Looking back, we are so grateful for all the assistance received along the way from friends and family. Thanks again, all of you! We miss you all and think of you often.
The driving and camping component took a month or two to fine-tune and now all that is second nature, like going home after work and hanging out in the yard. We find time for a game, cribbage or backgammon or dominos, nearly every day but all that downtime I envisioned has yet to materialize. Every single day is a production filled with a cast of characters – there’s the guys or gals at the pump station, the ladies selling produce and eggs on the road, the boss man at the campsite, the “extras” we wave to in the villages, and the occasional people we meet and share travel tips with. Emails are passed about and the list grows of people we need to visit when we get to their town. 
Jim keeps the Beagle in top shape and our gear has found a place to live that makes sense. The down comforter is one of the best purchases although it is getting warmer as we head north – we will have to find a place to stash it. The Garmin navigation device is indispensable. Some gadgets don’t live up to the task, but the Garmin is worth its weight in gold now that we’ve learned to trust it. 
The whole computer/internet/wifi/phone business runs on a whim and a prayer and Jim’s dogged persistence. Sometimes it works well. Sometimes we just drive on.
Culturally, the adjustment is more gradual. The scenes of women and children carrying impossible loads on their heads and men bicycling with equally impossible baggage (and a passenger or two) have become commonplace. While amazingly picturesque, it feels unkind to take photos of these people working so hard. 
And believe me – everyone, every man, woman and child, is working hard. It is a misconception that men sit around and watch women do all the work – from what we have seen, everyone has tasks and jobs and they do them the African way – by whatever means possible. Young men still hang out in groups with other young men – they are likely to be sharply dressed and they love a thumbs up when we go past. Young women riding bicycles are great fun to see and they too respond with a big smile when we acknowledge them. The madams and older gentlemen give a nod or a “fineandyou” – this is the reply to “hello,how are you?” You don’t have to even ask, they will still say “fineandyou”. Just like that, fineandyou. It is one word. 
Purchasing produce, food and essentials on the street is now the norm. Villages and towns look so busy and active because pretty much all the commerce takes place in stalls lined up along the road and generally speaking there is only one road. Nearly everyone responds to a smile – the only noticeable exception for this (so far) is up along the shore of Lake Mweru Wantipa, on the border with DR Congo. Here villagers appeared stern or indifferent. In this area Zambia integrated thousands of Congolese refugees in the ’80s and ’90s, giving them land and citizenship – the Zambian president was awarded a UN Peace Prize for his compassion. 
Maybe being former refugees has nothing to do with the lower level of friendliness found here, but since we are only driving through we will never know. And that is the crux of it; we are traveling and cannot stay to get to know a place, which would take years. We’ve seen many places we would like to know better but again years are needed. Just like at home, having been in one place for 30 years gives you a deep perspective. Well, at the least we are seeing what we can and enjoying every minute and engaging in conversation everywhere we go. We love how Africa works and sometimes how it doesn’t work. Here’s to the next six months.
Bengweulu Wetlands, west of Luangwa – and not exactly a popular destination. It is a grueling five hour drive to the community camp. Five hours to cover about 85 kilometers and most of it through little villages where everyone is waving at you and you are expected to wave back. Jim says waving and saying hello passes the time. I notice that houses look more prosperous since 2008. People are well-dressed and some are wearing eye glasses, yards and gardens look nice and children are for the most part wearing their school uniforms. It appears life has improved for this very rural community; it is heartening to see change for the better even if the road hasn’t been upgraded in the slightest.
The community camp staff takes excellent care of us (we are the only ones there) and arranges a guide to take us to the Shoebill. Two years of drought have brought water levels way down in the wetlands and the mokoro ride we took previously is not an option. So we walk into the reeds, thickets of tall plants with vicious pointed leaves. Over dikes, through mud, past fishing huts and small settlements, we follow the guide. Coming to a halt on a muddy rise, we look across and there it is. The enigmatic Shoebill, a breathtakingly beautiful bird, tall and stately. His bill is shaped like a dutch clog, giving him a smile and if it can be said that a bird looks happy this bird does. I know I am happy to see one so close. He poses for a while and we take some snapshots and then we leave him be. I’ve fallen in love with him and I have seen Shoebill Stork stuffed animals around – I may have to have one.
The wetlands is a peculiar landscape with islands of palms and trees rooted in termite mounds surrounded by grasses. In the wet season two feet of water cover the entire area. In this the dry season the grasses support tens of thousands of Black Lechwe, found only in the Bengweulu. The multitude of water birds I’d hoped to see are further away in the swamp but 50 pair of wattled cranes are here. There are Denham’s Bustard and ground hornbill, brown headed kingfishers and white fronted bee-eaters. 
Stopping to pick up a few feathers, I am startled by this strange creature – now this is a real “grass” grasshopper! No doubt scores of other insects are to be found. We will have to come back. Maybe the road will improve in the meantime.
There is a transit road through North Luangwa and it is how most people see this park. And like most people, we too drive the transit road headed for Kapishya Hot Springs high in the hills west of the park. First a soak in the sandy-bottom natural springs then a visit with the owners. Mark Harvey claims to remember me from nine years ago – hmmm – but the more we chat, the more remarkable his memory is. He has seen a lot in three decades in Zambia. Maybe he does remember us. He and his wife Mell, and Michal, the camp liaison, are so enthusiastic about North Luangwa we decide to see more of it from their Buffalo Camp operation. It is a four-hour drive and well worth it, Buffalo Camp is as wild as Zambia gets.
6:15 am. Is that a lion? I ask myself, half aloud, taking my first sip of coffee. Why yes it is; nine lions in fact. Right there on the sandy bank. I have an ear to ear grin, it is a splendid sighting. Michal goes total primate – “Lions! We’ve got lions!!” he is squealing at the staff. Everyone is heading for the best vantage point. I top off my coffee first then follow them – priorities, you know. There are seven beautiful females and two six month old cubs and they don’t hang around long but that’s ok. It is time for a three hour bush walk, in the opposite direction as if these nine girls are the only lion around. 
All told we see three different groups of lionesses (and two tiny baby cubs) along with clouds of bright green Lillian Lovebirds, mongoose (white-tailed, banded and slender) civet cat and the graceful Genet cats both large and small. The usual suspects, the buffalo, impala, zebra and wildebeest abound, and there are elephant. This lioness had a run in with a porcupine – she looked better the next time we saw her.
Charlie and Peanut are the resident elephants at Buffalo. Mark talks to them like we talk to our dogs – and like our dogs, Charlie and Peanut “get” what Mark says. We did not witness this, but it has been documented. Science would likely dismiss such a connection as anecdotal but I totally believe it. Elephants are brilliant creatures. At 1am Charlie pays a visit to our chalet. We thought perhaps he wanted a shower as it sounded as if he was going to crush the thatch walls around the ablution. He was on his hind legs reaching into the winter thorn tree for the fruit with his trunk – how awesome is that? I stand on the toilet and watch. Mark can talk to Charlie about wrecking the thatch fences later, Charlie really made a mess.
Making friends fast is a fact of life on this road. We really like Michal, an engaging young man from Poland and after lunch the three of us begin a conversation about music and such – he plays guitar and is interested in hearing some of my brother’s music. Before we can get that far, a four-door Land Cruiser pulls into camp. A “big man” and three armed guards disembark and they are here for Michal. Who brings three armed men all the way to Buffalo Camp just to talk to a slight young man? The “big” man (using the term for an African man who is full of himself) is angry and the guards are serious. Michal tries to slow down the confrontation but the big man is having none of it. “Get in the car, you are wasting our time” he says. 
He is the head ranger for NL Park, his superior is out of reach so now he is in charge and he wants everyone to know it. We cannot interfere. Michal has solo-traveled enough to to take care of himself. He is shoved into the Toyota in-between two armed men (he might try to escape, right?) and headed for a miserably long drive to Mpika and the ZamPark office. We don’t know if we will ever see him again.
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