Tanzania's national symbol is the giraffe, seen here on the tail of Air Tanzania's new airbus
I took this picture of our 'plane as they were loading our luggage at the Johannesburg airport (sorry about the shadow !) Air Tanzania ... "The Wings of Kilimanjaro" I’m back home again ! It’s always lovely to go away …. but just as lovely to return back to the farm and mainly, to all our pets. Everything was fine in our absence, all the pets are fine and the house still standing … Justin did a sterling job as usual, and has been well rewarded for taking such good care of everything with a few “zawadi” (gifts) from South Africa – much to his delight !
The trip home was … adventurous, to say the least. Firstly, we had 28 kg’s of excess luggage with us (thank goodness we were checked in without so much as a second glance as usually they are VERY strict about this) …. we were also (much to my husband’s embarrassment !) carrying 3 large hand luggage bags between us (one packed full of delicate family china which I have recently inherited from my mother and which has served family members past & present in Zambia, Zimbabwe, South Africa and now Tanzania !), I also had my (large) handbag and a giant sized duty free bag containing all the latest magazines & a few paperbacks purchased at the airport. (So, we really looked like pack donkey's !)
Included in our packed luggage were odd items such as a large sized lamp – complete with shade - a seed sprouter (don’t ask !) and countless bags of digestive bran (ditto !). Husband was dreading being stopped by Custom’s this end and possibly being asked to explain the digestive bran – ha, ha ! Anyway, we were stopped in Johannesburg when our hand luggage was scanned and found to contain a 450 gm tin of ham “You have over 100 ml’s of liquid in your hand luggage, and that is not allowed” said the scanner lady, holding up the tin of ham for everyone to see. (My husband gets embarrassed very easily & at this stage was about to light up a cigarette from the sheer stress of it all - even though smoking inside the airport is banned, and even though he has - supposedly - given up). “But ham is a solid, not a liquid” I argued. “You know what ?” she said “I never like taking food off people, especially cheese (?!?) and especially when they are traveling with children. So you can go. Together with the ham.” I thanked her and mumbled something about living in 3rd world Africa where "there is no tinned ham, so thank you so very much you are so kind" and she waved us through. Phew !
Our flight from Jo’burg to Dar es Salaam went well - lunch was served mid flight and as usual we were offered a choice of either "Bif" (Beef) or "Feesh" (Fish). This never changes, except in December when you are offered "Feesh" or "Tukky" (Turkey). "Pity if you are a vegetarian" my husband remarked as he tucked into his Bif, and I immediately thought of my dear vegetarian friend Jo and wondered whether Vegetarian meals were an option if pre booked, as child meals certainly aren't (Pre booked - yes. Provided - no).
The trip home was … adventurous, to say the least. Firstly, we had 28 kg’s of excess luggage with us (thank goodness we were checked in without so much as a second glance as usually they are VERY strict about this) …. we were also (much to my husband’s embarrassment !) carrying 3 large hand luggage bags between us (one packed full of delicate family china which I have recently inherited from my mother and which has served family members past & present in Zambia, Zimbabwe, South Africa and now Tanzania !), I also had my (large) handbag and a giant sized duty free bag containing all the latest magazines & a few paperbacks purchased at the airport. (So, we really looked like pack donkey's !)
Included in our packed luggage were odd items such as a large sized lamp – complete with shade - a seed sprouter (don’t ask !) and countless bags of digestive bran (ditto !). Husband was dreading being stopped by Custom’s this end and possibly being asked to explain the digestive bran – ha, ha ! Anyway, we were stopped in Johannesburg when our hand luggage was scanned and found to contain a 450 gm tin of ham “You have over 100 ml’s of liquid in your hand luggage, and that is not allowed” said the scanner lady, holding up the tin of ham for everyone to see. (My husband gets embarrassed very easily & at this stage was about to light up a cigarette from the sheer stress of it all - even though smoking inside the airport is banned, and even though he has - supposedly - given up). “But ham is a solid, not a liquid” I argued. “You know what ?” she said “I never like taking food off people, especially cheese (?!?) and especially when they are traveling with children. So you can go. Together with the ham.” I thanked her and mumbled something about living in 3rd world Africa where "there is no tinned ham, so thank you so very much you are so kind" and she waved us through. Phew !
Our flight from Jo’burg to Dar es Salaam went well - lunch was served mid flight and as usual we were offered a choice of either "Bif" (Beef) or "Feesh" (Fish). This never changes, except in December when you are offered "Feesh" or "Tukky" (Turkey). "Pity if you are a vegetarian" my husband remarked as he tucked into his Bif, and I immediately thought of my dear vegetarian friend Jo and wondered whether Vegetarian meals were an option if pre booked, as child meals certainly aren't (Pre booked - yes. Provided - no).
When we got to Dar es Salaam things went a bit pear shaped as we were suddenly asked to leave the ‘plane and were herded onto the runway, up a flight of rickety steps & into the passage of the airport building, then herded back onto the runway again & told we would be changing ‘planes. A teeny tiny ‘plane stood before us. As you know, I hate flying, especially in small ‘planes. Well, let me not exaggerate here – it wasn’t a small 4 or 6 seater ‘plane but rather a very claustrophobic 50 seater. “Don’t worry, darling” said hubby as I cursed under my breath “It’ll be okay - it’s a Dash 800”. Well quite frankly I couldn’t care if it was a Dash 8000, I was not happy to get on such a rickety looking ‘plane (which was hooked up to a battery charger on the runway as we boarded, if you can believe that !). “Dash 800” – hah – that was as reassuring to me as the sound of "anti wrinkle cream enriched with collagen” would be to my husband !!!
We flew to Zanzibar at a very low altitude, the ‘plane was hot and it didn’t smell too great inside the cabin – no refreshments were served & due to the seating layout my husband had to sit apart from my daughter and I. I tried to take my mind off the flight by eavesdropping on the 2 young American men sitting across the aisle from me, who I gathered were student teachers here on a volunteer programme. Things were just getting juicy (they were discussing the girlfriends they’d left at home, & the girls they'd since met in Tanzania) when the ‘plane landed and we picked up some more passengers before chugging (so much for "Dash" - it was more like "Crawl") along to our final destination …. the Kilimanjaro International Airport (the highlight of landing here used to be the mangy stuffed lion in a glass case in the passport control area – but it has mysteriously disappeared ?!)
Thankfully no one queried our huge amounts of luggage & we sailed through Custom’s unscathed and through the battered doors to be met by the beaming face of our driver, Shabbani, who was there to give us a real Tanzanian welcome home and drive us back to the farm. Our farm is on a remote stretch of road which also serves as a back door route to the neighbouring country of Kenya. There have been bandit attacks along the road late at night (my husband was a victim a couple of years ago – but that’s a story for another time !) so we had to get a police escort to take us back to the farm. Easier said than done.
We drove to the closest village to the farm & waited at the police station for almost 2 hours as the only police car (Landrover) was out on a robbery call. This police Landrover is solely serviced & maintained by us (but that’s yet another story !) so that the police can get to us in a hurry if needs be. Not that there’s ever any hurry in Africa. Nevertheless …. Once it finally arrived (thank goodness I had food, drinks, blankets & pillows in our car) we were escorted all the way back to the farm in grand style with 4 policeman each with their own AK47 …. some in the front, and some on the back. (It could only happen in Africa !)
So, there you have it … my return journey 'adventure'. I now have mounds & mounds of luggage to unpack and sort, and lots to blog about in the upcoming days, some new recipes and pet/garden and farm updates … so watch this space .... you never know what's around the next corner and as they say .... there's never a dull moment in Africa !
