The story from the start

The day I arrived in Africa, I was extremely tired and nervous, to be honest quite scared. I flew into Nairobi and searched for someone who might be connected with the bus company that was to take me across the border to Arusha. Everyone seemed helpful and directed me to the right guy and so I sat and waited for the bus to turn up… for about 2 hours. I had acquired a transit visa for $20US and just had to figure out the 3 month visa at the border.

The bus showed up and I was the only one on it. I watched with apprehension as the guys threw my precious luggage onto the top of the bus with no ropes or anything to tie them down. Off we went on what I thought was to be a long journey. After about 10 minutes we pulled into a petrol station (completely understandable) and stopped. All of a sudden everyone was telling me to get out and my bags were taken down from the roof and transferred to more waiting hands. I got out.

The first driver had told me that I had arrived on the wrong day and that they had been expecting me the day before, now I was at this very busy petrol station I was greeted by a very nice man who even knew my name. He led me to another full bus and wished me well. I clambered into the last seat available and wondered where my luggage was. Off we went again. We passed some eye-opening scenes as we left Nairobi and it was a bit of a culture shock for little old me. I did not like the look of the health and treatment of the donkeys and dogs that I saw, let alone the visible economic differences for people.

So, a 5 hour bus ride ahead of me in a small seat with no leg room. I was exhausted. I soon drifted off, much to my annoyance, and constantly struggled to wake up again along the way. In the brief moments that my eyes were forced open, I saw zebra, then a giraffe, some ostrich and I was sure I saw a hyena. It felt as though I was on some kind of drug that refused me consciousness. I really wanted to be awake!

After about 2 hours I woke properly because my bladder was screaming. I began to wonder if there was such a thing as a toilet stop (there was none on the bus itself as it was only an 18 seater). Approximately 15 minutes later we stopped at a lovely, green little place off the road and were told we had 15 minutes. That was my first introduction to the amazing speed of ‘true love’ in East Africa. After relieving myself gratefully, I peered at the touristy knick-knacks and then sat on the green grass appreciating the few minutes without dust blowing everywhere. Immediately, a young man sat beside me and struck up a conversation about the typical things; where I was from, where I was going, for how long etc. Then, he announced that he loved me and I should come back to visit him very soon, I think I was too tired to be too surprised but I was happy when the bus was ready to leave again.

Not long after our brief stop we came to the border. There were people everywhere and they were mostly men. The driver stopped outside a dusty looking office with heaps of men milling around outside. We all had to file off, go straight to the office and have a passports and visas checked to leave Kenya, except we weren’t really told what to do… I just followed some other passengers. I have never been through a country border before, so I didn’t realise that we had to go through the exit and then through the entry at different places. The man in uniform at the Kenyan ‘exit’ office told me to go further up to get to the Tanzanian ‘entry’ office. I walked back out, still tired and a little confused. A man who looked like our bus driver asked me if I needed a Tanzanian visa, I nodded wearily and followed. He took me to an office further up where there were more men in uniforms. They asked for my passport and the expected $50US. I handed it all over and waited. They took the money, stamped my passport and gave me 5000 Tanzanian shillings, telling me it was ‘pocket money’. I walked out and back towards the bus, then the same guy asked me for more money and I started getting worried. The bus driver was in the bus and honking the horn. I realized that I was with complete strangers and it dawned on me that I may have been ripped off. I got back on the bus and we drove up to the real office. I felt sick as I looked in my passport to find the stamp… there was nothing there, they must have used a rubber stamp with no ink. I have to say, it was all very clever with matching uniforms, an actual office etc all of which looked just like the real thing in a developing country. I was duped and felt furious with myself. I instantly developed a feeling of mistrust and decided I didn’t like Tanzania.

My anger and self pity kept me awake a little longer but again I found myself nodding off again and again. We approached Mt Meru and it was beautiful, bathed in the best sunset colours and clothed in wisps of cloud. Coming into Arusha only confirmed my dislike for the place, there was rubbish everywhere and suspicious looking people crowding the streets around dusk. It was dark when we finally reached the stop I was to make. Thankfully my bags had survived and I stood in a dirt carpark with my luggage and wondered what to do next. The volunteer coordinator had arranged to pick me up and there was no sign of him. Gradually all the other passengers were collected or took taxis off into the unknown and I was left in the dark with the driver and 2 other strange men; one taxi driver and another I later learned was an askari (security guard for the compound). The driver asked if I had a phone number to call and I searched my belongings to find the website print-out and dialed the number… Gemma herself answered and I pathetically explained my predicament, she assured me that she would find the coordinator and make sure he was on his way.

The driver left and I waited with the 2 others who were kind enough to ‘look after’ me until the taxi driver was called away, I had had enough by this stage and just wanted to go back home. Finally, a ute pulled up and the passenger called out my name… boy, was I relieved. They drove me to a restaurant where some other volunteers were having dinner and we sat there for a couple of hours eating and drinking… there wasn’t much talking. We initially all said where we were from and how long we would be at St Judes but after that it was a kind of awkward silence that remained until we finally drove to the school. I was so thoroughly tired and fed-up that waiting for the departure from the restaurant felt like hours and hours of torture.

I was shown my room and not much else, so I went to bed. I slept until 1pm the next day and wandered out to find the place empty of anyone. I had no food and no water and felt helpless, depressed and completely alone. I really wanted to go back home on the first flight I could find.

The next few days were similar and I managed to scrape food together from others (when I found them) with the promise of paying them back (I also had no Tanzanian money whatsoever). I began the first school week with no spirit for the job and no real faith that I would stay. On my third night I got a roommate and so at least there was some sort of friendship developed and we shared our disappointments with each other. It seems that as there are so many volunteers coming and going all the time here that the people who have been here a long time just don’t have the energy to constantly make friends with the newcomers and so leave them to their own devices. It was a very difficult week.

I began to make a few friends with some of the short-term volunteers and started settling in a lot more. It also helped when more people arrived, some old and some new, and things began to move more smoothly.

After 2 weeks I was content, after 3 weeks I had a local boyfriend and was enjoying the experience. Now after more than 2 months, I love Tanzania and have many friends (mostly locals), a new boyfriend and I am teaching my favourite subject, music.