Teksi!

The aspect of both Nairobi and Dar es Salaam that has been the hardest to ignore has been the excruciating traffic. During rush hour, a 20-minute drive can easily turn into 2 hours or worse. Imagine, if you can bear it, driving from New Jersey to Long Island on Thanksgiving. Now eliminate traffic lights, lanes, air conditioning and the possibility of receiving a ticket, and throw in a couple of street vendors selling clothing hangers, hedge clippers and pool floats. That will more or less give you the picture. Neither of these cities is especially walkable, either, at least if you’re trying to cover much ground.

All this means that we spend the majority of our days (and our money) in taxis, mostly at a standstill.

In some ways, this has huge advantages. Taxi drivers have been some of our best tour guides and strongest advocates, giving us insider tips and even accompanying us on errands to make sure we get a fair, non-tourist price (although this plan is not foolproof, as we’ve discovered). In Nairobi, Samson and Fred were our go-to guys. In Dar, Felix, Salim and Abdul have stood by us through lost luggage, bus station trickery and epic traffic jams. We’ve done our best to return the friendliness by amusing them with our laughable Swahili.

A flat tire didn't stop Fred from getting us to the giraffe center in Nairobi!

Saira might win the award for taxi conversationalist. I’m not sure how she does it, but she can carry on for an hour and a half by simply stating the obvious. “Ah, furniture – 30% off!” “That is a big hotel – many rooms! Too many for one person.” Her already musical South Asian accent acquires a deliciously African sound whenever she does this, and this makes her especially endearing. Her talent comes out particularly when we are in danger, for instance, when our driver decides to drive into oncoming traffic or when a city bus comes within an inch of our window. Hannah and I are wide eyed in the backseat, and just as we’re about to cover our faces and brace for the worst, Saira’s whimsical voice comments breezily, “Ah! Hair design.”

Today, our taxi ride to a restaurant on the other side of town lasted an hour and a half, which allowed for some excellent commentary. The ride back (only twenty minutes) also provided a few gems.

Saira, taking in the street scene in Dar es Salaam

Saira: “But he has a new car. He is not afraid of breaking it?”

Abdul: “I am not afraid of HIM.”

Abdul: “We are fighting and we are going to WIN. We will no lose.”

Hannah: “Good. I don’t want to lose.”

Abdul: “Yes please.”

Saira: “So, what is Kawa Beach like?”

Abdul: “It is far from town.”

Saira: “Yes. What is it like?”

Abdul: “It is a beach.”

Saira: “Is it a nice beach?”

Abdul: “Yes please.”

Abdul: “You will see the sign.”

Saira: “Yes, okay.”

Abdul: “Can you see the sign on your right?”

Saira: “Ah, you mean this sign here?”

Abdul: “No, not yet. You will see.”

Saira: “Ah, okay, I will look.”

Abdul: “You will look for the sign here.”

Saira: “Yes, okay.”

Abdul: “You will see it.”

Saira: “Fine.”

Hannah: “Have you been to the casino?”

Abdul: “No, I am not interested in casino.”

Hannah: “Me neither.”

Abdul: “I am more interested in coffee. And soft drinks.”

Abdul: “Hakuna matata. It means no problems. And hakuna patata. It means no potatoes.”

Abdul: “Chizi kama ndizi. Crazy like a banana!”

Hannah: “WEWE ni chizi kama ndizi!” (YOU are crazy like a banana!)

Abdul: “Noooo you are crazy banana!”

Hannah: “AH! HAKUNA PATATA!”

I’m told Tabora has a unique charm in that most people get around with bicycles, not cars. I admit that I won’t miss the smog and the horns, but the taxi conversation is something I will miss when we leave this twisty, congested city.