“Jambo, Mzungu!” – A Guide to Tanzania

Eight weeks ago, I moved from The Hague, Netherlands to Arusha, Tanzania. Not a permanent move, I’ll be back in Europe by late November. Which will be around the time I’ll start going stir-crazy here, missing my beloved cheese and bud shops. But in the meantime, here’s a tour of this wonderful and majestic East African country.

Upon landing in Tanzania, one of the first words you will hear will be “Mzungu”. That means foreigner or white person. Which makes me hope they’re referring to the former whenever the locals yell it, as they wave to me each and every day. That throws out any delusions of honorary Africaness these dreadlocked, hemp-wearing hippies may have hoped for when they got the ganja-fueled drum circle idea of coming to Tanzania. You’re a Mzungu. Deal with it.

Arusha is a sun-beat haze of red dust and motorcycle exhaust. Mount Meru looms in the distance over the town, as you’re stuck in traffic behind a bus adorned with a custom-made Rick Ross decal staring back at you. Boda bodas (motorcycle cabbies and couriers) zip madly between cars and trucks. Vendors line the sides of the roads, selling anything from roasted corn on the cob to shoes, phone accessories, and bootleg dvd’s. Maasai tribesmen, clad in their Shukas (traditional plaid blanket-like garb), machetes, spears, and beads, check their Facebook while listening to hip hop on headphones.

It’s a mix of wonder and what-the-fuck. One second I’m staring at the curious and colorful art a vendor has on display, the next second some terrified dude runs past the scene with hands tied behind his back. Or seeing a warm, smiling vendor wave at me, right next to him a thief getting savagely beat down by a neighboring vendor. And the locals and pedestrians don’t even bat an eye. It almost makes me feel like I’m back in New York City.

The land itself is beautiful, bold, with a rich, earthy smell. Kinda like the mulch section of Home Depot. Savannas and mountains stretch in the horizon, the trees dry and brittle from the harsh sun and dusty winds. Herds of goats and cattle dot the landscape every now and then, lonely Maasai walk or ride their beat up bikes along the road. Sometimes you won’t see any sign of a house, hut, or even hints of population miles before and after you encounter these single travelers, which makes you wonder where they’re going. The country is dotted with lakes and parks teeming with wildlife such as wildebeests, antelopes, wart hogs, grey monkeys, baboons, dik-diks (cute, tiny deer-like animals who are very self-conscious about their name), giraffes, zebras, and any other animal you’ll see printed on a tourist handbag. Baboons are the scariest ones by far. I once went on a mini-safari and got out of the car to take a leak in one of the toilet huts. I opened the door and the urinal stalls were full of screaming baboons yelling and punching each other in the dick. Clutching my own, I ran back into the car and told my driver “I’m good, keep going…” Tanzania is also home to two tall mountain peaks: the world famous Mount Kilimanjaro and Mount Meru. Mount Meru is nearby and it’s the one everybody in Arusha sees every day. The one that always reminds me what a lazy piece of shit I am for not getting around to climbing it.

Tourists here are usually either rich safari families who’s patriarch looks and dresses like the old man who built Jurassic Park, or ridiculous hippies in blonde cornrows who wear these baggy parachute-like pants with elephants printed on them. They’re both pretty atrocious. You usually see the rich safari families hanging out in the lodges and resorts, followed by a procession of staff carrying their bags and suitcases. The hippies try to be more “local”, so you see them walking around the town center with their backpacks strapped to their front, worrying about getting their shit robbed. They blend in so well with the locals that I really, really have a hard time telling them apart. I once met a white German tourist who was carrying a Maasai spear with a Shuka draped around his shoulders, like a genuine tribal warrior. Totally looked legit, bro. I only realized he was German and not Maasai when he opened his mouth and introduced himself as Hans, in a thick accent that could only come from the wild savannas of Bavaria. Mzungu, please…..

Locals, on the other hand, are pretty rad. They are very warm and welcoming, and will always start a friendly conversation with you, even if you can’t speak the language. Tanzanians are a laid-back people who plow through the challenges in their life with a smile and jovial demeanor. Muslims, Christians, and Maasai tribespeople are the predominant demographic, as well as a significant percentage of Indian and Middle Eastern business owners. Tanzania has also seen a recent influx of Chinese laborers, who are building much of Tanzania’s roads and infrastructure.

Locals tend to hang out at tiny roadside bars, frequented by boda boda riders on their down time. If you’re a Mzungu who isn’t afraid of leaving the comfort of the resort and fancy bar, there is much cheap beer and good times to be found in these little dives. I once sat down with some locals, who treated me to a huge cooked fish, which was eaten communally, with no cutlery or utensils. Straight-up ripping and eating pieces of the fish with your hands, and downing it with Kilimanjaro beer (or Kilis, as they’re called by the locals). The man treating me and the others at my table looked like Suge Knight. Blinged-out in huge gold chains, he drove in a decked-out Mercedes SUV. He claimed to be a “ruby dealer”, with a twinkle in his eye and sly smile, the same way New Jersey mobsters claim to be in the “waste management” business. He kept buying me beer after beer, even when my last one was still half-full. Oh, and they were 24 oz. beers, so you can imagine my sobriety withering away as he laughed and shouted “I take care of you Mzungu! Drink Mzungu, drink! I pay for everything!” He did pay for everything, and I ended up paying a visit to the toilet to puke my guts out after the 8th or 9th beer, as my local friend stood outside the bathroom shouting “The Mzungu is sick! Are you ok Mzungu???”, before someone brought the car over to drive me back home.

Public transportation is pretty wild. You have the option of sitting behind a boda boda motorcycle cabbie for a ride and free pants-wetting, or hopping aboard one of the many tiny buses that make up nearly half of urban traffic. These buses are decked out in custom stickers representing whatever brand or figure is popular at the time. A few examples of the buses I’ve spotted so far include: Snoop Dogg (including Snoop Lion), Dr. Dre, Rick Ross, Facebook, WhatsApp, Twitter, Microsoft, Apple, Nike, Adidas, Jordan, the Pope, Che Guevara, Jesus, Islam, U.S. flag, even our solar system. I’m not lying, one dude had the entire solar system on his bus, complete with decals printed from Google images of planets with watermarks on them. The best one I saw was the fucking Jihad bus. It’s my Loch Ness Monster of local buses. I spotted it only once, two years ago when I first visited Arusha and only managed to take a very blurry, indistinguishable photo. It showed a figure with a shemagh over their face, holding an AK-47 with “JIHAD!” underneath in a fiery refont. I do admit I want to ride the Jihad bus for bragging rights (as long as I don’t end up getting dropped off at an Al-Shabaab recruitment camp). Hopefully, the U.S. flag bus will come to my rescue if that happens.

Zanzibar is off the coast of Tanzania. Also known as “Spice Island”, it’s the birth place of Freddie Mercury. It’s a predominantly Muslim population, with Middle Eastern architecture and decor, which feels more like part of Morocco than Tanzania. Stone Town is the urban center of Zanzibar, which is made up of tiny shops selling souvenirs and spices, as well as old, crumbling forts. Tourism is the major industry here, and many locals will chat you up for a while, before trying to sell you a tour of spice farms or other tourist traps. One night I decided to take a stroll around Stone Town and was approached by a shady dude who offered to sell me hash. I declined, and he went on to offer me weed, coke, ecstasy, heroin, opium, pills, and almost every other drug known to man. Curious, I asked him if he actually carried all those drugs on him and he replied “No, you give me money and I go and get them from my friend.” Yeah ok, you sound totally legit, dude. That trick might work with some of the other clueless tourists, but you’re talking to a New Yorker, we got built-in bullshit detectors.

Food in Tanzania consists mainly of marinated or grilled beef, rice, fish, chapati bread, and various starchy veggies. Non-Tanzanian foods have weird, local twists to them, such as calzones filled with egg or burgers with cucumber chunks in place of pickles. Pili-Pili is a local hot sauce that will make your colon run away from home. I love adding it to my avocado and beef pizza. The country has a fair share of local beers, most of them brewed by Tanzania Breweries. Brands include lagers such as Kilimanjaro, Ndovu, Serengeti, and Safari Lager. Other African staples include Castle and Tusker. Castle makes a milk stout that’s pretty decent, a personal favorite that I enjoy when available. Konyagi and Kiroba are local Tanzanian liquors sold in bottles and small plastic bags. I personally have never tried them, since life has taught me that cheapo booze sold in plastic bottles or bags will have me puking into a plastic bucket later on.

I will miss Tanzania when I leave in late November, but I know I will be back. There are many things I still want to do, like finally getting around to climbing Mount Meru or Kilimanjaro, visit Lake Natron (Google it, it’s creepy as fuck), or take my daughter on safari once she’s older and can start remembering things. Or even visit the country’s largest city, Dar Es Salaam. Most of all, I will miss the warm, friendly locals, many who I have befriended, even if I don’t know their names or what they were trying to tell me. But I will bring a bottle of Konyagi back with me, which I will sip as I snuggle in my Shuka in the upcoming European winter nights.