Topic: He is my brother-a Kenyan in Tanzania

He's My Brother by Binyavanga Wainaina

I landed in Dar es Salaam so numb from grief that I felt detached from everything. Tanzanians amaze me - they have a languid self-assurance I have seen nowhere else. It really goads us Kenyans - we like to feel that we are a progressive people who have left all this communal African nonsense and acquired a hard-nosed get-with-the-programme attitude.

In which other African airport can you get real assistance? I walk from one official to another, irate that my luggage seems to have disappeared. Everyone is hugely supportive and soon the entire airport seems to know that my luggage is missing and I am headed for a funeral. I am overwhelmed by assistance.

The lady at the Air Tanzania office is nearly in tears because she can't organize a flight for me to make my mother's funeral on time. She makes me coffee, supplies me with two mandazis and sends somebody to terminal one to see if there are any charter flights leaving for Nairobi early in the morning.

The smell of earth and life is carried from the ground by the moist air and I feel almost consoled. I have been wracked by visions of a coffin and a deep hole - and a vast silence emanating from it that I can't break. My mum had such a distinctive voice, like bells wrapped in cotton wool, but I can't hear it.

I sit on the airport's vast veranda and inhale Dar's humid air. There is a smell here that is so mingles in my mind as a smell of Africa; I feel home-sick. The want- to-lie-down-and-lick smell of cold concrete, rising up; and above, a soup of damp air smelling of seaweed, fresh honest sweat, and lifebuoy soap. There is no plastic airport smell, no smell of fine leathers and strong perfumes, and all those South African cushions.

Some of my luggage has been found the rest seems to have gone to Entebbe. It is 11pm and I seem to be the only passenger left at the airport. The taxi drivers congregate around me and I am suddenly afraid. How am I going to get a hotel room? Won't it cost the earth to go searching for one by cab? I have never been to Dar before. Eventually I settle for the least pushy taxi driver. The special-branch policeman who helped me get my luggage is obviously waiting for a tip. I give him some rands. He looks offended and returns them, telling me that I should buy him a soda in the morning.

We take off in the taxi. I go straight into negotiating mode but the driver calmly tells me the fare is fixed. Nevertheless he takes off 1 000 shillings. It is quite cheap, but I am worried he might charge me more if we have to drive around looking for a bed. He tells me the truck in front of me is full of stowaways who were caught trying to hide in The Alliance Air cargo hold. Both sides of the road are filled with people. Shops are open and bars are cooking with live rumba bands. Everybody is outside escaping the heat. I feel like joining in - a cold beer would be paradise now.

The driver suggests that, since I haven't been to Dar before, he drive the scenic route alongside the sea. And he promises not to charge me extra. We sit in the car, parked by the harbor, for 15 minutes. The sea smells like fresh crayfish. My tension ebbs away. It is after 2am by the time I get a bed in a guesthouse after searching all over Dar. My concerned cab driver insists on checking the room for hot water and towels. I haven't the heart to tell him that I would happily sleep on sawdust.

I ask at the reception if I can get anything to eat. The kitchen is closed. The cab driver insists on taking me to find something. We end up on a street full of open-air traders. We sit on plastic chairs under the stars and I eat the best chicken tikka and chips I have ever had. There are five sauces that accompany it, all made at the restaurant. Thank God I rejected his offer to take me to one of the South African franchises. Why does paradise always have to be poor?

There seem to be no fences and everybody mingles freely. People chat without anxiety. I ask the driver if he has locked the car as my luggage is inside. Surprised, he says nobody would steal it. We talk and talk as I flex my Swahili. Everybody here speaks it as a first language - Indians, Africans, Arabs. I ask Kesho, the driver, what tribe he belongs to. He is surprised and tells me, but laughs and says that we Kenyans are so tribalistic, no Tanzanian would ask him such a question.

It transpires that the restaurant will not accept dollars or rands. Kesho pays the bill. You can sort me out tomorrow, he says.

He takes me back to the hotel. We agree to meet at 5.30am.

The phone rings at 5.20am. Apparently Kesho was worried that he wouldn't wake up on time so he has slept in the car. We have coffee and head off to the airport. I have been anticipating dawn, but find to my surprise that I am more interested in seeing people than the sun. Almost everything I can do as a traveler in Tanzania is better in Kenya. The hotels are bigger, more established. The tours more glamorous, the country more sophisticated. The drawing cards nearly identical: Mt. Kenya/Mt.Kilimanjaro, Serengetti/Mara, Blixen/Selous, Zanzibar/Lamu. What makes me, a Kenya want to travel here more is the welcome. There is no better welcome to the best about Africa.

Kesho apologizes for not taking me to his home to spend the night. He says he thought I was suspicious of him and so did not make the offer. His wife will be upset that he let a brother away from home spend the night in a tourist hotel. The lady at Air Tanzania puts her kettle on the moment she sees me. I feel like an old friend. I buy sodas all round, and find the special-branch person has bought samosas. I can't win.

Within an hour I have a ticket to leave at 10 am to Mombasa. I have been pushed up the waiting list.

I give Kesho all my Tanzanian money and tell him I will be back. Soon.

See all travel writing by Binyavanga Wainaina.

Well, he was lucky... hapo alipo kula kuku ni pale ambiance au?
Hii ingepelekwa jukwaa la lugha, imekaa story tu, sio international sana
ikibaki hapa mtaona watu wakenya na watanzania wanaaza kubishana

nakumbuka kuna mwalimu mmoja wa kenya(english schoolkmasai boys) alikuja Tanzania nikampeleka town tukapanda kwenye jengo moja hado floo ya saba.. Akaniuliza tumepanda nini?. Sikumuelewa ..kumbe yule jamaa alikuwa hajawahi kupanda lift..but before that nilikuwa namuogopa kweli coz ni mwalimu tena from Kenya..but at the end of the day nilichoka.
Watanzania tunaabudu sana watu wa kutoka nje(:

Jasusi... they say in the darkest our, there could be a ray of light, and the lucky ones see it

Nimeipenda

Binyavanga Wainaina author journalist. Winner of caine prize for african writing. Ajabu baada ya kusifia ubinadamu wa watanzania wachangiaji ooh tunaabudu wageni,ooh kenya washamba hawajui lift! Kazi ipo.

Nakumbuka nilipotembelea Mombasa nikapelekwa na mwenyeji kunywa kahawa halafu nikadaiwa mimi nilipie!

Karibu tena Wainana....all the best

Ukarimu wetu mara nyingi unatafsiriwa kama ujinga; hilo ninajidhihilisha katika nchi nyingi za kusini tulizozisaidia kujikomboa sasa kutuona sisi kama hamnazo na kuwatesa raia wetu wanapokuwa huko!!

''It really goads us Kenyans - we like to feel that we are a progressive people who have left all this communal African nonsense and acquired a hard-nosed get-with-the-programme attitude....''

This had me rolling, Binyavanga trying to score some cheap points with Tanzanians, tiari ameshapata jiko Bongo?

By Smatta

''It really goads us Kenyans - we like to feel that we are a progressive people who have left all this communal African nonsense and acquired a hard-nosed get-with-the-programme attitude....''

This had me rolling, Binyavanga trying to score some cheap points with Tanzanians, tiari ameshapata jiko Bongo?

Siajabu amepata jiko Tz because marriage institituion is failing big in Kenya. Sikiliza Radio morning shows on classic 105, easy fm,kiss fm etc the women are whining ndoa gone to the dogs, the men complaining wives hawapi heshima any more.

Hapa ni kweli Saint Ivuga ila kachagua kumtembeza mgeni mkulima kutoka kenya TZ.

By simplemind

Siajabu amepata jiko Tz because marriage institituion is failing big in Kenya. Sikiliza Radio morning shows on classic 105, easy fm,kiss fm etc the women are whining ndoa gone to the dogs, the men complaining wives hawapi heshima any more.

kuna ka ukweli flani vile, lakini siunajua kupata jiko Tz ni rahisi sana

By Smatta

kuna ka ukweli flani vile, lakini siunajua kupata jiko Tz ni rahisi sana

smatta kenya is even cheap, tatizo baadhi ya wanaume wa kenya wanajifanya wako bize na kutafuta pesa na mwisho wa siku wan-end kuwa broke. Some dont know how to balance leisure and job.

watz tuna ukarimu-nilshakutana na wakenya+msomali mmoja huko nchini kwao-walinivuruga hadi nikajuta kwa nini nilienda huko

Good to see there are kind people out there…keep it up guys it’s a thing we can learn from you

Tanzanians are alwys ahead but within a pocket

By Jasusi

He's My Brother by Binyavanga Wainaina

I landed in Dar es Salaam so numb from grief that I felt detached from everything. Tanzanians amaze me - they have a languid self-assurance I have seen nowhere else. It really goads us Kenyans - we like to feel that we are a progressive people who have left all this communal African nonsense and acquired a hard-nosed get-with-the-programme attitude. In which other African airport can you get real assistance? I walk from one official to another, irate that my luggage seems to have disappeared. Everyone is hugely supportive and soon the entire airport seems to know that my luggage is missing and I am headed for a funeral. I am overwhelmed by assistance. The lady at the Air Tanzania office is nearly in tears because she can't organize a flight for me to make my mother's funeral on time. She makes me coffee, supplies me with two mandazis and sends somebody to terminal one to see if there are any charter flights leaving for Nairobi early in the morning. The smell of earth and life is carried from the ground by the moist air and I feel almost consoled. I have been wracked by visions of a coffin and a deep hole - and a vast silence emanating from it that I can't break. My mum had such a distinctive voice, like bells wrapped in cotton wool, but I can't hear it. I sit on the airport's vast veranda and inhale Dar's humid air. There is a smell here that is so mingles in my mind as a smell of Africa; I feel home-sick. The want- to-lie-down-and-lick smell of cold concrete, rising up; and above, a soup of damp air smelling of seaweed, fresh honest sweat, and lifebuoy soap. There is no plastic airport smell, no smell of fine leathers and strong perfumes, and all those South African cushions. Some of my luggage has been found the rest seems to have gone to Entebbe. It is 11pm and I seem to be the only passenger left at the airport. The taxi drivers congregate around me and I am suddenly afraid. How am I going to get a hotel room? Won't it cost the earth to go searching for one by cab? I have never been to Dar before. Eventually I settle for the least pushy taxi driver. The special-branch policeman who helped me get my luggage is obviously waiting for a tip. I give him some rands. He looks offended and returns them, telling me that I should buy him a soda in the morning. We take off in the taxi. I go straight into negotiating mode but the driver calmly tells me the fare is fixed. Nevertheless he takes off 1 000 shillings. It is quite cheap, but I am worried he might charge me more if we have to drive around looking for a bed. He tells me the truck in front of me is full of stowaways who were caught trying to hide in The Alliance Air cargo hold. Both sides of the road are filled with people. Shops are open and bars are cooking with live rumba bands. Everybody is outside escaping the heat. I feel like joining in - a cold beer would be paradise now. The driver suggests that, since I haven't been to Dar before, he drive the scenic route alongside the sea. And he promises not to charge me extra. We sit in the car, parked by the harbor, for 15 minutes. The sea smells like fresh crayfish. My tension ebbs away. It is after 2am by the time I get a bed in a guesthouse after searching all over Dar. My concerned cab driver insists on checking the room for hot water and towels. I haven't the heart to tell him that I would happily sleep on sawdust. I ask at the reception if I can get anything to eat. The kitchen is closed. The cab driver insists on taking me to find something. We end up on a street full of open-air traders. We sit on plastic chairs under the stars and I eat the best chicken tikka and chips I have ever had. There are five sauces that accompany it, all made at the restaurant. Thank God I rejected his offer to take me to one of the South African franchises. Why does paradise always have to be poor? There seem to be no fences and everybody mingles freely. People chat without anxiety. I ask the driver if he has locked the car as my luggage is inside. Surprised, he says nobody would steal it. We talk and talk as I flex my Swahili. Everybody here speaks it as a first language - Indians, Africans, Arabs. I ask Kesho, the driver, what tribe he belongs to. He is surprised and tells me, but laughs and says that we Kenyans are so tribalistic, no Tanzanian would ask him such a question. It transpires that the restaurant will not accept dollars or rands. Kesho pays the bill. You can sort me out tomorrow, he says. He takes me back to the hotel. We agree to meet at 5.30am. The phone rings at 5.20am. Apparently Kesho was worried that he wouldn't wake up on time so he has slept in the car. We have coffee and head off to the airport. I have been anticipating dawn, but find to my surprise that I am more interested in seeing people than the sun. Almost everything I can do as a traveler in Tanzania is better in Kenya. The hotels are bigger, more established. The tours more glamorous, the country more sophisticated. The drawing cards nearly identical: Mt. Kenya/Mt.Kilimanjaro, Serengetti/Mara, Blixen/Selous, Zanzibar/Lamu. What makes me, a Kenya want to travel here more is the welcome. There is no better welcome to the best about Africa. Kesho apologizes for not taking me to his home to spend the night. He says he thought I was suspicious of him and so did not make the offer. His wife will be upset that he let a brother away from home spend the night in a tourist hotel. The lady at Air Tanzania puts her kettle on the moment she sees me. I feel like an old friend. I buy sodas all round, and find the special-branch person has bought samosas. I can't win. Within an hour I have a ticket to leave at 10 am to Mombasa. I have been pushed up the waiting list. I give Kesho all my Tanzanian money and tell him I will be back. Soon. See all travel writing by Binyavanga Wainaina.

Awesome......

By Saint Ivuga

nakumbuka kuna mwalimu mmoja wa kenya(english schoolkmasai boys) alikuja Tanzania nikampeleka town tukapanda kwenye jengo moja hado floo ya saba.. Akaniuliza tumepanda nini?. Sikumuelewa ..kumbe yule jamaa alikuwa hajawahi kupanda lift..but before that nilikuwa namuogopa kweli coz ni mwalimu tena from Kenya..but at the end of the day nilichoka.
Watanzania tunaabudu sana watu wa kutoka nje(:

Na hii ni moja ya ushamba. Mtu asipojua kitu akauliza kwa Mtanzania, mtu huyo ni mshamba! Mbona mimi Mmarekani aliniuliza ndani ya ndege namna ya kuwasha taa ya kusomea, na hivi vitu vyatengenezwa kwao? Hivi ni vitu vya kawaida tu na wala kutojua lift hakumaanishi kuchelewa.

By Utingo

smatta kenya is even cheap, tatizo baadhi ya wanaume wa kenya wanajifanya wako bize na kutafuta pesa na mwisho wa siku wan-end kuwa broke. Some dont know how to balance leisure and job.

wanawake wa kenya mmeiga sana uzungu sasa unawaponza.kuanzia shuleni malapractice .mnafikiri ndoa ni sherehe na kupigiwa matarumbeta tuu.tabia ulizozijifunza na na kuzipractice na kuzizoea zinakuja kuwa intolerable kwa wanaume.mnataka marriage union huku mnataka ku retain freedom yenu kama ulivyokuwa hujapata bwana? mtafakari,mjiulize na mrudie asili ya mwanamke wa kiafrika. unyenyekevu na heshima kwa mume kadhalika uvumilivu ndio itakayokupa heshima ya kuitwa mwanandoa milele.

By Smatta

''It really goads us Kenyans - we like to feel that we are a progressive people who have left all this communal African nonsense and acquired a hard-nosed get-with-the-programme attitude....''

This had me rolling, Binyavanga trying to score some cheap points with Tanzanians, tiari ameshapata jiko Bongo?

He is not the only one Smatta, give credit where it's due, come on now?

This comment was made by your countryman at skyscrapercity

By Kenguy

Nimerudi kutoka safari nchini Tanzania na kuna kitu kimoja nimegundua. Sisi Wakenya hatujui Swahili. Kweli Wabongo wanaipenda lugha.

Kama jana niliingia duka ili niweze kutuma barua pepe katika mtandao nilikuta wanatumia Google katika lugha ya Kiswahili. Kuhesabu pesa kwa Kiswahili kwangu ilikuwa ngumu kwa sababu walikuwa wananiambia bei ya bidhaa kwa Kiswahili halafu nilijikuta nikifikiria bei kwa kiingereza kabla ya kununua kitu chochote. Habari za saa tatu Tanzania wanasoma kutumia Kiswahili wakati mimi nimezoea kusikia Habari za Kiingereza saa hizo nikiwa nyumbani Kenya. Kile kilichonifurahisha sana ni vile Watanzania wanachukua kila mtu kuwa kama ndugu wao. Mtu akiniita na hanijui Uganda anasema gwe, Kenya ni wewe lakini Tanzania ni Ndugu... Nilifurahi sana!

Dar es salaam imeendelea sana. Si kama vile nilikuwa nimefikiria hapo mbeleni. Nitaziweka picha zile nilichukua katika uzi {if thats what you call a thread in Swahili} ya Dar es salaam nikipata wakati.

TZ, Hongera.

... and more some

By Kenguy

Nilikuwa huko kama siku nne tu. Na wakati huo wote sikumpata mtu hata mmoja aliyenionesha madharau au chuki. Labda wako lakini sikuwakuta. Huwezi sema watu ni wabaya kwa sababu ya kile wanachoandika katika mtandao. Ukisema hivo, basi Wakenya ndio wabaya zaidi (angalia mashada kwa mfano). Na wale wanaotumia mtandao wengi wako nchi za ulaya sio Tanzania. Kila nchi iko na watu wenye roho mbaya na wale wazuri.