Thank you to
Yacht Seerose
for providing us with
this information

DAR ES SALAAM TO TANGA - PART ONE PLEASE NOTE: DUE TO THE FACT THAT THIS IS A VERY LONG ARTICLE, WE HAVE BROKEN IT UP INTO THREE PARTS. CLICK THE 'NEXT' BUTTON AT THE BOTTOM OF THE PAGE TO VIEW THE FOLLOWING PAGES.

Tanzania The harbour is a massive deep-water lagoon and I doubt that there's a more beautiful and unique natural harbour anywhere in the world. On entering, we observed a floating market to starboard with a ferry-landing-jetty and taxi rank on the starboard bow. Behind the jetty was the city, with beautiful, gracious Victorian buildings, some of them eight to ten stories high with open air restuarants on their roofs. We noticed our new South African flag flying proudly in a garden in front of one of the buildings. The shipping harbour was quite a distance away, to port. On our stern was a Country Club, Golf Club and several private mansions, with rolling lawns down to the waters edge. All had private landing jetties.

The vessels in the small craft harbour were of infinite variety, comprising gracious Dhows, Chinese junks and many more of every conceivable size and shape. Most were owned by foreigners and used for tourist charter Two of the crew from a Chinese Junk came alongside in their tender. Apparently the youngster, who spoke perfect English, was the PRO and the old man, who hailed from Lamu in Kenya was the sail trimmer and rigger. The youngster proudly intimated that Lamu was renowned for producing the best sailors in the world and it was obvious that he admired and deeply respected the old man. He chatted on, telling us that their skipper was German, their Chef was Chinese and their Cabin Boy was Tanzanian and that the crew aboard all the vessels in the harbour were also a hotch-potch of nationalities. They offered us a lift ashore, and for the duration of our short stay they ensured that we never had a problem with transport to or from the jetty. On one occasion they even rowed us ashore when their outboard was unavailable! The following morning six officials from Customs, Immigration and Health came aboard to effect clearance procedures. They were courteous, efficient, cheerful and honest and showed genuine interest in us, the yacht and our journey thus far. We were charged $3US for a three month VISA and given a legitimate receipt without having to ask for it. They demanded nothing for themselves and Bob had the rare pleasure of offering them refreshments and cigarettes and tipping them of his own accord. We'd planned to go ashore after they left but decided to delay our visit as there appeared to be a massive parade with thousands of cheering spectators passing along the waterfront. We later discovered that it was our new President, Nelson Mandela, in a cavalcade through the streets. Later when we met fellow South Africans at the yacht club, they told us we could have attended a cocktail party given in his honour. He had published a request to meet any South Africans who happened to be in the area. This function apparently took place in the building where we'd seen the South African flag flying. After the fuss died down and the streets had cleared, we cadged a lift ashore and made our way to the Embassy Hotel where we treated ourselves to a slap up grill. Next stop was the bank, then the Pharmacy, then the Mall and finally the market where we stocked up on fresh produce and a gigantic watermelon. Having obtained permission we moved around to the Yacht Club the following day. Clearing the harbour we entered the first bay to the North and found ourselves tucked behind a headland where an elevated face-brick clubhouse overlooked the yachts at anchor below. Once again the customary mansions ringed the headland but here they all appeared to be occupied, as tenders were made fast at the bottom of each flight of steps leading down to the water. On going ashore towards evening we were delighted to find that there was every facility a cruising yachtie could wish for. In addition to the ferry service there were excellent ablution blocks, a chandlery, laundry service, telephones, fax machines, taxis to the city and a modern shopping centre close by. Moreover, in this part of Africa yacht clubs double as country clubs, and consequently the tremendous bar and restuarant was well patronised, affording visiting yachties the opportunity to meet the local folk.

The view from the yacht club. Rori Meiring, Secretary to the South African High Commissioner introduced himself to us and treated us like royalty for the duration of our stay. He also introduced us to the South African Security guys who were travelling with our President and it was good to converse with fellow countrymen (in some of the eleven official languages of our country!) They agonised over our President who was apparently a security nightmare. He persistently ignored their carefully planned precautions by moving amongst the crowd, shaking hands with the men and hugging and kissing the women and children.

The following morning Lowell and Bea North, who were anchored alongside us on Yacht "Wanago", called on VHF and invited us for sundowners that evening, afterwhich we all went ashore together for dinner. It transpired that they were leaving for the States shortly with a stopover in London. Lowell needed to undergo surgery to his shoulder and they intended leaving their yacht in Dar during their absence. They weren't familiar with London so we were delighted to be able to recommend a good, well-situated and reasonably priced hotel. Throughout our stay we went ashore every evening and enjoyed many giggles listening to the fabrications of some of the "master blasters". These people frequent yacht clubs throughout the world and the tales they relate make one want to flop down into the nearest chair. We figured it was only a seven hour passage to Zanzibar so we set sail at sun-up on 7 June, arriving in time for lunch ashore. A few dugouts lay on the beach just beyond the waterline so Bob grabbed Ern's infamous "Nacala conch" and let rip with a few tuneless blows. A head popped up behind one of the dugouts. Bob blew again and we all joined in with frantic waves and yells. The head became a body and the body started dragging the dugout towards the waterline. Jumps for joy and shouts of triumph from the yacht.

Zanzibar town from the anchorage with the "House of Wonders" towards the right.

The Fishermen's Restuarant is situated on the wharf and a fresh catch was being carried in as we arrived. By the time we were seated Bob and Ern were salivating, as they'd each picked out a crab the size of a serving platter. I ordered a fruit salad which was so large I suspect it could have fed everyone in the restaurant. I can't remember what Liz ordered but the entire feast only cost $9US. We wandered into a scuba dive shop close by and discovered that it was run by a bunch of young South African ex-pats. South Africa has many Moslem citizens but we knew little about them and their culture as at the time it was illegal for us to fraternize across the colour line in our country. These perceptive young people realised this and spontaneously educated us on mode of conduct and appropriate dress to spare us possible embarrassment. Fortunately it transpired that we were suitably attired so we set off to explore the "maze" of stone town. We found Zanzibar to be an extraordinary island with a surprise around every corner and breathtakingly beautiful beaches and reefs. The local Government was in the midst of a massive restoration programme to the ancient buildings constructed with coralitic stone centuries before. Many of the men are magnificent cabinet makers and we had the privilege of watching them at work carving replicas of the massive ancient brass-studded doors that adorn every doorway. It was fascinating to learn that the purpose of these carvings, which were introduced centuries ago, was to enable the occupants to advertise their trade or occupation. A fisherman had fish carvings on his door, a farmer had vegetables or flowers, and so forth. They had recently launched an aggressive marketing campaign to boost their tourist industry and we met tourists from every corner of the world. I must say though that it was incongruous to hear loud disco music emanating from an ancient building! For years I'd combed antique shops the world over to find an ancient padlock for our wine cellar so I was over the moon when I stumbled upon one in a locksmith shop. It was in a huge box of used padlocks of yesteryear, all of which had been repaired for resale. Mine had a modern locking-mechanism skilfully concealed inside it's ancient casing and the lock functions perfectly!

A typical street in "Stone Town". We then tried to get ourselves out of the maze and even my Captain, who has the sense of direction of a homing pigeon, was lost! Fortunately we were commandeered by Mahommed, who appointed himself our guide. In keeping with quaint eastern custom he adressed me as "Mama" and whenever there were steps or uneven surfaces to be negotiated he would take my arm and, singing to the tune of the ever-popular African song "Pole' Pole' Sa Sa" (carefully, carefully - slowly, slowly), he substituted the words "Pole', Pole' Mama".