Category: travel

ON THE ROAD TO NGORONGORO: PART II

ON THE ROAD TO NGORONGORO: PART II

“What a view!” I yelped before snapping another photo. “Mmm, yes,” murmured Henry who had seen it many times before. While driving from Arusha to Ngorongoro we had topped the escarpment overlooking Lake Manyara (Fig. 1) and been confronted by an eye-grabbing view—steep, two to three thousand ft slopes fronting Lake Manyara and the Maasai Steppe like the ramparts of an immense fortress (Fig. 2). Wow!

Figure 1. Map of the Crater Highlands area. The Great Rift Escarpment passes west of Lake Manyara, east of the Crater Highlands (Loolmalassin Mts., Olmoti Crater etc.) and west of Lake Natron.
Figure 2. View south over Lake Manyara and along the Great Rift Escarpment. The Lake Manyara Hotel swimming pool is in the foreground.

However, I would have been even more impressed had I known this was only a small part of one of the geologic wonders of the world, a system of separate but related rift basins, composed of escarpments, and troughs some 30-40 miles wide, stretching 3,700 miles all the way from Turkey to Mozambique (Fig. 3).

Figure 3. The Great Rift Valley includes the Dead Sea and the Sea of Galilee. In Africa, it cuts through the highlands of Ethiopia before dividing into the Albertine Rift and the Eastern or Gregory Rift. Lake Manyara is in the latter. (Author: Redogeographica. Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International license.)

And, it’s all caused by the earth’s crust pulling apart. In Eastern Africa, the Somali Tectonic Plate, which lies east of the Eastern or Gregory Rift (Fig. 3) is splitting away from the larger African or Nubian Plate causing huge chunks of land to sink between parallel faults (Fig. 4).

Figure 4. Parts of the rift system are not distinct valleys (Graben) but, as at lake Manyara, a single escarpment (Footwall) rising above a shallow depression (Half-Graben). (Author: Aymaith 2. Creative Common Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unoported License)

Geologists postulate that elevated heat flow from the earth’s mantle is causing “thermal bulges,” creating the highlands of Kenya and Ethiopia. As they form, these “bulges” stretch and fracture into a series of faults forming rift valleys. Huge chunks of land sinking between parallel fault lines force up molten rock in volcanic eruptions. Consequently, the East African Rift System (EARS), especially the Eastern or Gregory Rift, tends to be geologically active with numerous volcanoes, hot springs, geysers and earthquakes (Figs. 5 & 6).

Figure 5. Geyser at Lake Bogoria, Kenya.

The geological processes driving the formation of the East African Rift System have greatly benefited the region. For instance, rift basins with steep 2000-3,000 ft (600-900 m) escarpments, solitary volcanoes, including Kilimanjaro and Meru, and 7,000-12,000 ft (2,134-3,658 m) volcanic highlands, provide a scenic and biological diversity that otherwise would not exist (Figs. 6&7). A rough measure of this diversity is the number of Kenyan and Tanzanian national parks (16) found in areas affected by rifting and volcanism.

Figure 6. Empakaai Crater (Embargi Crater in Fig. 1), an extinct, 10,569 ft. volcano in the Crater Highlands. Beyond, Kerimasi, another inactive volcano, rises from the arid rift floor where dry season dust devils swirl among leafless thorn trees. In contrast, temperatures at Empakaai Crater are lower, rainfall higher, and morning fogs drench evergreen forests and perennial grasslands.
Figure 7. Shallow lakes typical of the Eastern Rift are well known for their flamingoes. Lake Makat, Ngorongoro Crater.

In addition, highly fertile volcanic soils support dense populations of agriculturists, as on the well-watered slopes of Mt. Kenya and Mt. Kilimanjaro (see Mt. Kilimanjaro post). Livestock productivity of rangelands occurring on volcanic soils is up to twice (or sometime more) of that on soils derived from other geological materials.

Yet another benefit is that steam from hot springs and geysers can be harnessed to create geothermal energy. In 2015, geothermal energy generated nearly half of Kenya’s electricity (Fig. 8). And, it’s green energy, too!

Figure 8. Geothermal power station at Olkaria, near Lake Naivasha, Kenya.

Then, there’s this: The East African Rift System may even have influenced human evolution. Discovery of so many remains of early hominids within the rift (Fig. 9) has led to the idea that the processes of formation of the East African Rift System (uplifts of land thousands of feet in elevation, volcanoes spewing ash into the atmosphere, extensive lava flows . . . ) may have caused frequent alternations between wet and dry periods, thereby influencing the evolution of the human species by forcing our ancestors to adapt by becoming smarter and bipedal.

And, here I’d thought it was all about the scenery.

Figure 9. Oldupai Gorge, Ngorongoro Conservation Area, Tanzania. The concrete block marks the site where the remains of an early hominid species, Zinjanthropus boisei (since renamed Paranthropus boisei) were discovered in 1959.

ON THE ROAD TO NGORONGORO: PART I

ON THE ROAD TO NGORONGORO: PART I

Sept. 1964. After completing a few weeks training with a number of other Peace Corps volunteers at Tengeru Agricultural School, I presented myself at the Ngorongoro Conservation Unit’s office in Arusha. My new boss, Henry Fosbrooke, a middle-aged, somewhat portly Englishman with glasses and well-worn sweater vest, greeted me with a business-like smile. “We go to Ngorongoro tomorrow morning,” he said. “Be at the office at seven sharp.” I was there at 6:30 AM. We left at 3:00 in the afternoon. Some unexpected matters had arisen, which Henry needed to attend to before leaving for Ngorongoro a hundred miles to the west. 

                                                    Buffaloes by My Bedroom: Tales of Tanganyika

The road from Arusha to Ngorongoro as shown on the 1994 CMC Route Map of Kenya. Hard surface roads are colored red. Tarangire and Mt. Kilimanjaro were not national parks in 1964, but a game and forest reserve respectively. Ngorongoro Crater is at the far left of the map.

But leave we eventually did, and here are some sights we saw along the way.

This stop, not far from downtown Arusha, had something to do with the young man in red sweater, an employee of the Ngorongoro Conservation Unit. The elderly gentleman wearing a Muslim kofia or cap was possibly a relative. I like the contrast between the modern bright red tractor (and even brighter sweater) and weathered, dilapidated buildings.

Where buses go to die (several others were gently rusting away behind the building). Outskirts of Arusha at the edge of the dry Maasai Steppe.

Arusha Maasai farms on Kisongo Maasai land ten miles west of Arusha. The woman, a Maasai, is carrying a bundle of maize stalks.

By the 1960’s the numbers of Arusha people on Mt. Meru had grown to where all cultivable land was fully occupied. This forced them to mobilize relations with their pastoral cousins, the Kisongo Maasai, in order to access their land. One way was through marriage because pastoral Maasai did not farm but frequently married women from cultivating tribes who did. However, according to John Galaty, in the book, Being Maasai, this has not always been to the pastoralists’ advantage, especially the Kisongo, who often complain that the Arusha women they marry invite all their brothers to cultivate near them, and then evict the Kisongo husbands when their herds disturb the crops.

Our way smoothed by a two-lane asphalted stretch of colonial Britain’s Great North Road, we passed through open, often rocky grassland with scattered bushes and small thorn trees. We passed herds of livestock tended by small boys, Maasai women following loaded donkeys, and a single rangy warrior, walking with long, loping strides, carrying a spear. Grass fires were turning the air hazy with smoke.

Buffaloes by My Bedroom: Tales of Tanganyika

This was the land of the Kisongo Maasai, one of twenty or so Maa-speaking groups, or sections, of pastoralists who once dominated a region equal in size to Wyoming or, to take an example across the Atlantic, the United Kingdom.

Area occupied by Maa-speaking peoples in the mid-1880’s prior to European colonization (heavily shaded borders)., Arusha (A); Nairobi (N).

The Maa-speaking peoples are the most recent of a succession of Cushitic and Nilotic pastoralists who, over some three to five thousand years, have entered East Africa from Sudan and Ethiopia. For their part, the Kisongo Maasai have been in southern Maasailand only since the early 1800’s when they evicted or absorbed other Maasai sections, as well as Tatog pastoralists who, preceding the Maasai, had lived around Lake Manyara and in the Crater Highlands for at least a millennium.

Distinguished by a specialized form of cattle pastoralism, and by an age-set social organization that motivated cattle raiding and warfare, the Maasai were widely feared. However, they also raided and fought among themselves, their aggressiveness and ferocity climaxing during the mid to late 1880’s when they attacked one another so savagely that entire regions were depopulated. The winners, including the Kisongo, were checked only by the effects of rinderpest and smallpox epidemics in the 1890’s and by the onset of colonial rule. (The depopulation of highland grasslands in Kenya greatly enabled their subsequent occupation by white settlers who found no one there to contest the issue.)

Henry, who had previously been an anthropologist, enjoyed talking about the Maasai.

. . . who moved about the countryside looking for grass and water for their cattle. Unlike farmers, they did not want to settle down and send their children to school. Furthermore, although they owned large numbers of livestock, they were not interested in participating in the nation’s economy by selling them. “Yes, they are an obstinate lot,” Henry sighed. At least those were his words; actually, I think he was secretly pleased that the Maasai were keeping to their old ways.

Buffaloes by My Bedroom: Tales of Tanganyika

A Maasai warrior or murrani
(photo by Herman Dirschl)

Leaving the Great North Road at Makutani Junction, we drove for twenty miles on a murram (a type of gravel) road to the village of Mto wa Mbu: Stream of the Mosquitoes. (It’s a name that would make an American real estate agent cringe; as a young boy I remember a petition being circulated to change the name of a nearby stream–from Mosquito to Harmony Creek–in order to increase property values.) Nestled below the Great Rift Escarpment at the entrance to Manyara National Park, the village served a small but densely settled area of farms watered by springs and a small stream that flowed down the escarpment.

The village of Mto wa Mbu (Stream of the Mosquitoes).

A few dukas (small general stores) lined the road, shaded by wide-spreading flamboyant trees (Delonix regia). In season, the trees produced masses of scarlet flowers that competed for the eye with the colorful kitenge cloth worn by the village women. Small groups of Maasai murran or warriors leaned lightly on their long-bladed spears, affecting little interest as a convoy of tourist vehicles slowed to enter the park. (A fence of strong cables blocked large animals in the park from entering the village.) Nearby, a small, open-air market displayed eight-feet lengths of sugar cane, bunches of yellow bananas and, on rough-wooden tables, piles of mangoes and pawpaws or papayas. Gunny sacks of charcoal stood or lay by the road.

Pawpaw (Carica papaya) trees in the yard of the Public Works Dept. (PWD) station at Mto wa Mbu.

I’ve mentioned pawpaw trees in previous posts. I think they look weird, like something one might see in a Dr. Seuss book.

Papaya fruits on a tree in India.
(photo by Vackachan. Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike International License.)

I had never seen a papaya (or mango for that matter) before coming to Tanganyika in 1964. Therefore, they seemed very exotic. Nowadays, of course, they can be found in most major grocery stores.

—TO BE CONTINUED—

Here’s a suggestion: consider giving my book, Buffaloes by My Bedroom: Tales of Tanganyika, as a Christmas present.

AFRICA’S GREAT NORTH ROAD

AFRICA’S GREAT NORTH ROAD

Arusha, Tanganyika (present-day Tanzania) was noted for its cool, healthy climate, proximity to scenic Mt. Meru, and being a center for tourism. However, it also was known for something else: its midpoint location on the rather grandly named Great North Road which ran the length of the African continent. A left turn set you on the path for South Africa. Turn right and you were headed for Egypt.

Probably named for the highway that has linked England and Scotland since the early middle ages, Africa’s Great North Road was originally proposed around 1890 by a number of British Imperialists, including Cecil Rhodes, who was so instrumental in Great Britain’s annexation of large areas of Africa that North and South Rhodesia (now Zambia and Zimbabwe) are named for him. (He is less well regarded these days as shown by the recent removal of his statue at Oxford University because it was felt to be symbolic of imperialism and racism.)

The Great North Road was meant to link Britain’s possessions in the eastern part of the continent in order to increase the empire’s economic and political power in Africa. At the time it was a visionary concept, seemingly unconcerned with any obstacles that might exist, such as Germany’s increasing control over Tanganyika through which the road would have to pass (see below).

Great Britain’s African possessions prior to 1918 when Tanganyika (shown in black) was still a German possession. Tanganyika came under British control following the First World War. (Sudanation–Wordpress.com.)

Other obstacles included the sheer length of the road–approximately 6,392 miles (10,228 km), or more than twice the distance across the USA–and the fact that, in the 1890’s, very little was known about the areas through which it would pass. The magnitude of the undertaking was demonstrated in 1924-26 by the first successful journey from Cape Town to Cairo which took a year and four months (The first attempt, in 1913, ended when the expedition leader was killed by a leopard in Rhodesia).

Also, financial resources were limited; Britain expected its various colonies, protectorates and trusteeships, including those through which the road would pass, to be largely self-supporting, and some, such as Tanganyika, with few resources to generate revenue, were quite poor. Furthermore, their administrators often had higher priorities, as for instance, those in Tanganyika and Kenya who emphasized east-west railways linking the interior of their colonies to seaports on the Indian Ocean. The Great North Road’s lack of urgency was tellingly revealed in this quote from a Tanganyika government publication in 1955–By and large, before the 1939-45 war, the problem of communication was not as pressing or important a matter as it is today.

Consequently, the Great North Road was more an idealized concept than on-the-ground reality. Instead of being constructed all at once and all at one go, progress was faster in densely populated areas but less so in lightly settled areas where road standards evolved, improving over time. Some examples of how the latter might have occurred are presented below:

Early travel was by foot, often along animal trails, such as this one near Ngorongoro Crater in Tanganyika
Many of the earliest roads were just ruts worn by pioneering carts and vehicles, in this case in arid northern Kenya. Furole Mountain, marking the border with Ethiopia, rises in the distance.
The first constructed roads were usually dirt, the more important ones being drained and graded. This road is the B2 between Dar es Salaam and the Rufiji River in coastal Tanzania. (Photo dates from about 2000.)
Dirt roads, however well-maintained, can present problems in the rainy season, as here in Northeastern Province, Kenya sometime in the 1990’s. The Acacia seyal trees shown here typically grow on poorly drained. heavy clay soils that can become impassible when wet.
The next upgrade would be to murram (a type of gravel) roads, which sometimes allowed all-season use. However, they had the irritating characteristic of forming washboard corrugations, which forced drivers to maintain speeds of about 40 mph. Slower than that caused extreme bouncing; higher speeds caused vehicles to “drift,” and drivers to lose control. Possibly that’s what happened here, near Lake Manyara, on the road to Ngorongoro.
The final upgrade was to all-weather tarmac highways as here in Turkana District in northwest Kenya. (Note: this is the only example that is actually part of the Great North Road.) The principal problem with these highways is that they induce fast driving: hence the sign.

Consequently, the final all-weather links of the Great North Road were still incomplete when Sudan became independent in 1956 and Great Britain’s empire began to dissolve.

However, the dream lives on, only now in the minds of independent African nations who realize the importance of cross-border trade in improving their economies. Thus, the Great North Road, in the form of the Pan-African Highway, still exists, implemented under the auspices of international agencies and the countries through which it passes.

That said, it should be noted that road conditions in South Sudan are still frequently impassible during the rains, forcing the highway to be routed through Ethiopia (see map below). However, newly independent South Sudan is improving its road system, making it likely that sometime in the not too distant future, the original dream of a Great North Road linking Great Britain’s contiguous (but now independent) dominions in Africa may finally be realized–well over hundred hears after its conception.

Present-day Pan-African Highway. (By Rexparry. Wikipedia Commons license)

ARUSHA, TANGANYIKA

ARUSHA, TANGANYIKA

During the internecine wars of the Maasai which disturbed southern Kenya and northern and central Tanzania in the early 1800’s, a group of Arusha Maasai, cattle herders who also practiced agriculture, left the plains and settled the southwestern slopes of Mt. Meru, where they prospered. By the late 1890’s they were powerful enough to dominate both the mountain and surrounding plains, sending raiding parties as far as eastern Kilimanjaro fifty miles away. It is no surprise, therefore, that they have a city named for them.

Arusha dates to 1900-1905 when the government of German East Africa built a fort or boma to protect German settlers attracted by Mt. Meru’s fertile volcanic soils and cool temperate climate (Arusha is 4,593 ft in elevation). By 1964, when I arrived, Tanganyika had been under British control for forty-five years and Arusha was a bustling little town of about 10,000 people (878 of whom were whites / Europeans).

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Downtown Arusha (1964), with its iconic clock tower centered in a traffic roundabout. Other structures include Barclays Bank (right), provincial government headquarters (building with blue front) AGIP petrol station (yellow and black sign), and Naranjan Singh’s greengrocery (building on far left).

Arusha’s economy was based on agricultural products including Arabica coffee, pyrethrum, sisal, and papain. (I’ve dealt with coffee and sisal in my posts, Going Upcountry and Mt. Kilimanjaro, but pyrethrum and papain need some explanation.) Pyrethrum is a pesticide made from the flowers of a species of chrysanthemum. Effective against insects (I used aerosol cans of it to kill tsetse flies) it has a more soporific effect on larger animals, as in the case of a rhino which, encountering a field of pyrethrum (this was in the 50’s when rhinos were still abundant), ate some and promptly slumped over and went to sleep. Papain is an enzyme extracted from Papaya fruits for use in meat tenderizers.

Tourism also contributed. Tanganyika National Parks and the Ngorongoro Conservation Unit were headquartered in Arusha, and the town’s New Arusha and Safari hotels catered to tourists headed for the Ngorongoro Conservation Area and Ngurdoto Crater, Lake Manyara, and Serengeti national parks. (These will come up in future posts.)

 

map
National parks (dark green) and game reserves (light green). Map reflects the present situation: some present-day national parks were game reserves in 1964.

Arusha appealed to me, partly because I’ve always been drawn to small towns, but also for its interesting mix of cultures–European, Indian (south Asian), African–and, on clear days, its views of nearby Mt. Meru.

 

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Mt. Meru is named for a Bantu farming people who colonized its southeastern slopes over two hundred years ago. Photo taken at the edge of a plantation of fast-growing Mexican pines (right). The Hagenia trees on the left are indigenous. 

Arusha had leafy suburbs where Europeans, and better-off Indians and Africans, lived in large houses with lush, well-kept yards, often behind high walls or dense hedges. They were nice, often lovely, places, but not especially interesting. Here are some snapshots taken elsewhere in town.

 

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Corrugated tin roofs,  vehicle skeleton and mosque: a common sight in Tanganyika

 

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An Ismaili mosque (at far end of street).

Ismailis are a branch of Shia Islam noted for the their enlightened views on the rights of women and the values of secular education, modern medicine, and Western culture in general. Their leader, the Aga Khan, periodically gains notice when Ismaili  communities donate funds for charity equal to the value of his weight in gold, diamonds and platinum. A single weighing event of the previous Aga Khan, who weighed 243 pounds, brought in $1,400,000.

 

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Fruit stalls at Arusha market. I remember mangoes, papayas (pawpaws) and at least four different kinds of bananas, including three that were new to me: cooking bananas (plantains), small, intensely sweet bananas, and thick bananas with red skins. Note the woven baskets, which were used instead of sacks or boxes. 

I have fond memories of Arusha as it was in 1964. However, its population has since burgeoned to over 400,000 people. It’s a big city now with attributes one expects of such a place. Some are positive, as, for instance, numerous quality hotels (tourists visiting northern Tanzania’s national parks have become the city’s major revenue-earner http://www.tanzaniaparks.go.tz), a shopping mall, international conference center, and two sports teams; others, including an increased crime rate and award-winning traffic jams, not so much.

 

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Arusha traffic jam. (This photo, by Sydney Combs, won first place in the University of Chicago Study Abroad photo contest.)

Times have changed.

But, the market’s still there. If you ever visit Arusha, check it out. Maybe it still sells those small, sweet bananas.

 

 

 

 

BUS TRAVEL: 1964

BUS TRAVEL: 1964

“Wapi pesa, wewe! bellowed the bus driver’s assistant. “Where’s the money, you!” Grabbing the young man by the lapels of his faded, second-hand coat, he banged him  against the side of the bus. Then–whump!  He did it again. “Toa nauli! Pay the fare!” His victim had snuck on without paying at the last stop, but the assistant, a hard-bitten tough, with a well-filled tee-shirt and flat, narrow-brimmed cap, had found him out. “Nimelipa!” the young man wailed as he struggled to escape, “I have paid.” Thump! The tough flung him against the bus again. “Hakuna pesa! I have no money!”  Whump!  Whump! And, so it continued for several minutes, the other passengers watching with mild interest through the windows, until the husky assistant felt he had made this point and contemptuously waved away the penniless passenger, who scurried off with an embarrassed grin.

Bus travel had its moments,

As long and tedious as it was, our 400-mile bus trip upcountry from Dar es Salaam (see post: Going Upcountry) was actually nothing special. Tanganyika (present-day Tanzania) was the size of France and its population centers were widely scattered. Thus, long-distance travel was frequently necessary (For instance, my future wife and I were posted 785 miles apart–picture Seattle to half-way across Montana, or alternately, central California). Furthermore, buses were relatively cheap and served far more places than trains and commercial airplanes. Therefore. they were the most frequent form of long-distance travel.

Although sometimes not the safest.

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Travel by bus sometimes did not end well. The crumpled luggage rack of this one suggests that it rolled over during the accident, which probably also explains the lack of front wheels. I can only wonder how the passengers fared. (Photo by Neil Christianson.)

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The missing wheels. (Photo by Neil Christianson.)

Accidents did happen, of course, but breakdowns, often far out in the countryside, were more common. If unable to fix the problem himself, the driver sent a message back to town with a passing motorist and then waited for hours (or longer) for help to arrive. Sometimes it was a long time coming, too, as evidenced by the times i’ve seen a driver, his passengers having hitched rides with passing vehicles, asleep under his bus, still awaiting it.

Most roads were graveled or, as in the above photos, just graded dirt. In both cases, but especially the latter, they were seasonally dusty and muddy.  In the dry season, moving vehicles raised clouds of dust that covered everything, even filtering in through closed windows. During the rainy season the problem was mud. For instance, when I traveled to Mbeya in southern Tanganyika to visit Cathy, I got so muddy while helping free my  bus, mired to its axles in sticky goo, that I arrived, two days later, almost as dark as the African passengers. For her part, Cathy once took a bus from Mbeya that couldn’t cross a shallowly flooded section of the road without bogging down. Another bus, on its way to Mbeya, was stopped on the other side. The drivers simply traded buses, wading with their passengers and luggage (the latter balanced on their heads) through the water to the vehicle on the other side, and continuing on.

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I often encountered muddy situations while in the Peace Corps, but nothing like this, in Liberia. (Photo by Dennis McCarthy.)

Even with no hitches, bus rides became boring after the first hour or so. However, here and there along the way, something usually cropped jus to relieve the tedium. Rest stops, for instance, were welcome opportunities to stretch tired legs, relieve an overfull bladder, and get something to eat. The paragraph below describes one taken during my first week in Tanganyika.

After a few hours, the bus stopped for a break at a small roadside village, a straggle of small, widely spaced, mud-plastered huts with thatched or corrugated tin roofs, and a large mango tree shading two old men sitting on wobbly wooden chairs. Women sat flat on the ground, selling mangoes, papayas, and bananas from piles in front of them. Young men hawked fruit and groundnuts through the windows to passengers still on the bus. I had to find a toilet, which meant I had to ask directions, which meant–I assumed–that I must do it in Swahili. Choosing a likely looking man, I mumbled, “Choo iko wapi?” (Toilet is where?)

Buffaloes by My Bedroom: Tales of Tanganyika. 

(Subsequent rest stops also offered mandazis, African donuts. My opinion? Drool-worthy. Get your recipe for mandazis.)

Back on the road, flowering jacaranda and flamboyant trees brightened otherwise humdrum-looking settlements with colorful splashes of  bluish-purple and scarlet. Gunny sacks of charcoal by the roadside far from any dwelling made me wonder why they weren’t stolen. I saw farmers working their fields with their iconic heavy hoes (singular: jembe; plural: majembe) and marveled at strange-looking baobab or upside-down trees. Passing through Mikumi National Park one night, the bus was flooded by the distinctive smell of elephants.

Bus trips provided many memories. Nonetheless, I was always glad to see them end.