I had a dream – riding the TAZARA train from Zambia to Dar es Salaam/Tanzania. Well, it turned out to be impossible. So many sections of the 1800km long railway track were not passable, beside how much savanna-watching can you digest.
Ring the Tazara train from Kasama to Nkonde
The trip started in Kasama in northern Zambia, since the section from Kapiri Mposhi, where the train usually starts, to Kasama was under construction. To get to Kasama was already very tiresome.
I had spent the week before in the very, very remote village of Chingombe, to catch the train Father Evaristo, the priest of Chigombe took be to a town on the main road, where I got an overland bus to Kasama. Roads in this mining area are completely worn down from overloaded trucks carrying copper. The road’s surface is often rippled, in smaller vehicles it feels like driving on ice. The copper is so heavy that only few plates can be put on a big truck, makes them look like driving empty. Often the trucks travel in convoys protecting each other from being robbed.
In Kasama I checked into the English-run Thorntree Guesthouse that also features a small manufactory to deal with the produce of their coffee-planation.
Thorntree Guest House in Kasama
Trip to the Stone Age
Kasama even has a famous sight – about 5km out of town are some incredible rock paintings, 700 in total, making it the largest and most significant collections of Stone Age art in Southern Africa. I only visited a few, since they are scattered around a large area. At the entrance I got registered and a well-informed nice lady took me around, which involved a bit of climbing.
Rock art from the Stone Age near Kasama
Departing from Kasama in worrying mode
I was so worried about getting a ticket that I went to the train station in Kasama three times on the day of the departure. The trains runs only twice a week!
My first trip was in the afternoon, I found the place deserted, but a white woman wandering around the station cluelessly caused so much attention that I was taken to station master. He calmed me down and issued me a ticket for a ridiculous low price.
Kasama trainstation in the afternoon- just to make sure the train existed
Kasama train station- stationmaster issueing my ticket
Around 8pm I went again just to me sure- of what I don’t know. By then a few people were camping on the floor of the waiting area, but nothing near the thousands of people who were supposed to travel on the train. Nevertheless, I was comforted by the sight of the people, it meant there was a train. I was told to return at 2am, one hour before that train was leaving, which I did. Again, worrying sick that the taxi would not arrive to take me to the train station. I was in shock to find an empty train station – not for long, since the station master rushed towards me and ushered me to me compartment, mumbling he made sure I was by myself. Of course, I was not, but my travel companion was a nice Zambian lady. Everybody on the train was asleep when we left like a Swiss clock!
Passengers camping out at Kasama station waiting for the 2am departure
Stationmaster saw me off himself at 2am
Savanna watching
When I opened my eyes, my first look was through the dirty window- yes the savanna was still gliding by just as I had expected. Next stop was the restaurant car, which was not as lively as had expected, so I went back to my bed and watched more savanna passing by.
Savanna passing by
Savanna …….
The train was painstakingly slow, walking seemed faster to get me where I was heading and after hours of savanna the excitement wore off. During that day the engine broke and we spent hours waiting in the middle of nowhere for it to be fixed. During that time the toilets were locked. Everybody else got off and went into the bushes, when I did so, hell broke loose „back on the train, too dangerous“, ordered a soldier with a big kalshnikov who escorted the train. I could see nothing but trees, but humbly obeyed, he seemed drunk, so I crawled back on the train looking for a conductor to open the toilets for me.
Fellow Traveller watching savanna pass by
The end of that trip came unexpectedly: we stopped near a large market in the middle of nowhere and thousands of people poured off the train. I had no clue why, so I simply tagged along. My mobile said I was near the town of Nakonde, where the trains was supposed to stop. For whatever reason the trip ended far from town.
Nakonde – arriving completely unexpectedly – not knowing where to go
Nakonde – waling through this market Drew more attention than I wanted
Walking into Tanzania
After we left the station area people were picked up by family and friends and went their way, except me. Sticking out like a sore thumb the familiar humming of “Mzunga” picked up. A white woman travelling alone on this train and then walk through the market was simply too much.
Nakonde market – this is where the train stopped
Two kids noticed my despair and walked me through the market, I did not even know where they were taking me, but they correctly figured the border was where I was heading. On the Tanzanian side I was finger-printed, photographed and got stuck: the internet was down, so the vias could not be processed visa neither the invoice that I had paid. After what seemed a very long time, I entered Tanzania and again was cluesless of where to go. I had watched an Asian man having similar issues with the visa, he had a driver, so I figured he could be helpful. Well he was not, at least I had a person to share a taxi to Mbeya, the next town, The Mbeya Hotel for €40 was simple but quite and clean. We each headed a different way the next morning- he headed to a wedding, and I caught a bus to Dar-es Salam, I had enough of the train. All I wanted was a real city and a a plate of spaghetti.
Being finger printed at the Tanzanian border
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