Crossing from Malawi to Tanzania

After the long days of hiking the previous days, we really wanted to stay in bed and do nothing.  Our flight out of Dar es Salaam to Madagascar was getting closer and we didn’t want to lose another day in Southern Tanzania.  So we set the alarm for 5:30 am and woke up to the sky changing colors over Lake Malawi from our cabin in the mountain.  The transport down to Chitimba was passing at 6:30 am and if we waited until later we didn’t know how long we might wait. 

We climbed the hill to the road and were waiting with several other travelers when we heard the cars coming.  There was a parade of 3 trucks on their way down.  The first one passed as it was full, but the last 2 stopped.  There was argument over which car to get in as the hostel had spoken with one of the drivers the night before, but we decided to spread out.  It also meant that we got seats in the cab of the truck instead of being in the bed.  This might not be important for most rides, but this trip would be almost an hour of bumping down a rocky road.  

On the way up, we’d heard about a car of 15 people that rolled down the mountain 2 weeks earlier.  The recommendation had been to choose your driver wisely, but there was really no option.  As the truck started to move, we realized his entire windshield was fogged over.  He was driving with his head out the window and we were encouraging him to stop and clean it.  Tico handed him toilet paper, but the issue was on the outside.  His windshield wiper motor was broken so while winding down the zigzags, he used one arm to reach around and clean a small portion of the glass.  The whole time the 4 people in the truck are encouraging him to stop, but he was on a mission.  

 

 

After some time and with the heat of the sun, the windshield cleared and we made it to the bottom.  We set our things alongside the road and waited for the minibus to pass.  It didn’t take long before one stopped.  We argued over the price and didn’t move our bags until they lowered the price to our liking.  The rest of the group stayed behind, but we jumped in and headed towards the border.  The journey took about 2 hours to reach Karonga.  The minibus emptied and our driver coordinated with another minibus to pay the rest of our way to the border.

We waited for the new minibus to fill before continuing our journey.  The road took us through rice fields with outlines of mountains on the horizon.  When we saw the line of trucks in front of us, we knew we’d reached the border.  The minibus turned off into the village and we were dropped in the usual setting of people trying to pull you in every direction.

A man approached me and offered to walk us to immigration and when I declined, he offered to exchange money.  I continued to say no and then he spotted Tico.  We managed to agree on an exchange rate and found somewhere to eat at the same time.  Food was ordered and he was sent away until we were done eating.

When we came back, we had to start at square 1 with the negotiating of the exchange rate.  I still wasn’t happy as we didn’t get to the same rate as before, but Tico said we needed money to cross and he was right.  So we agreed on the total and he started counting out money.  He handed us 60,500 shillings instead of 65,000 and pretended it was right.  I told him again and again that it was wrong and he tried to say he didn’t understand.  With the help of a calculator, I made my point and he gave us the right amount.  We then handed over our money and it got a bit more confusing.  I either counted wrong or he hid a bill without us seeing and the total changed.  I argued and lost and finally said it wasn’t even a $1 so let it be.  We recounted the money and he claimed he didn’t have change yet I called his bluff as he’d already shown the 500 shilling coin on his first lie.  In the end we lost a couple dollars with the exchange rate and his tricks, but we didn’t have any more Kwacha and were ready to cross the border.

Crossing the border

We walked towards the trucks and buildings and found immigration.  The officer handed us a form to fill out and then he verified our passports.  We asked if we needed to do anything and he said no.  So we walked out the building and around the gate stopping the cars without anyone making sure we’d followed the right process.  

We walked the few hundred meters and crossed the Songwe River to the Tanzanian immigration.  There was a large sign labeled customs, but nothing to signal immigration.  We asked 2 workers outside of the building and they motioned us to go inside.  We approached the window that said arrivals and were sent to the man next to him that had a sign saying departures.  He handed us a form and we filled it out.  The man stamped my passport first and while he was processing Tico’s, I looked at my stamp.  It said exit along the top and I asked why if we were entering.  The man was thoroughly confused and said he’d given us departure paperwork.  We didn’t read the paper as we’d approached the right window and he’d never asked if we were coming or going.  They ended up canceling the exit stamp and giving us proper entry stamps.  As we have multiple entries, this shouldn’t be a problem when we try to leave or enter again, but time will tell.  

 

We again walked out and along the street without anyone verifying that we’d been through immigration.  The officials had told us the price of the minibus so we headed in the direction of Kasamulu.  We thought they would be closer than they were and ended up having to walk a couple kilometers to find the bus station.  The daladala (bus) was larger than the typical combis or minibuses in Zimbabwe and Malawi, but the procedure was the same.  We were one of the last few to get on so we left relatively quickly.  

We drove through tea plantations and fields upon fields of banana trees.  It was apparent that farming was the way of life in the region as everyone had a field covered in either greens or cabbage.  The Poroto mountains, which make up part of the Southern Highlands lined the backdrop of the colorful fields.  We both dosed on and off as we drove through and moved seats as people got on and off. 

Mbeya

The bus arrived to the Nane Nane bus station and emptied.  As we weren’t sure where we needed to go exactly to find Festo, our Couchsurfing host, we needed to get a phone line.  We had asked at the border, but we knew their prices were too high so we refused.  Tico stayed with the bags while I went to a shop to ask about a card.  After clarifying that I could register with my passport, we realized that the chip was too large for my phone.  I explained that I only needed to speak with someone and she offered to call Festo for me.  Once we got him on the phone, he explained which bus to get on and where to get off.  The nice lady walked with us to the bus and made sure the driver knew exactly where to leave us. 

We reached the Ujenzi stop and unloaded our things.  No one was around, but in less than a minute 2 women appeared and greeted us.  Festo had sent 2 of his coworkers to fetch us as he was still in the office.  We walked to the Elimisha Organization office and met the rest of the team.  Not long after, Festo appeared and we loaded everything into a taxi to head to his home.  His wife and children were waiting for us and we made ourselves at home.  Another couchsurfer, PoShun, was also staying at the house so we all talked about our travels and asked Festo question after question about Tanzania.  

Margaret, Festo’s wife, made us dinner and we sat around the coffee table on stools eating rice with beef.  It was considered rude not to have seconds so we all helped ourselves before having oranges for dessert.  While we ate, the water for our shower was heated on the charcoal stove.  We each took turns going into the bathroom and standing on the foot pads of the toilet.  There was a bucket of hot water and another for the cold.  We used the cup to mix the water to our temperature preference.  Both of us lost a bar of soap down the drain, but there was no rescuing them once they reached the hole. 

 

 

The next morning we got a late start as Festo knew we had a long couple of days.  We had tea and bread before walking through the local market and farming fields to his office.  He showed us some of his projects before we ran our errands of getting a phone line and visiting the ATM.  On the way back to the office, we stopped into a local restaurant for lunch.  The kitchen was the charcoal stoves in front and the seating area was no bigger than 15 m2 (160 ft2). There were 2 small tables and they had to get another bench so we’d have room to sit.  The options were rice or ugali (maize porridge) with beans and small fish.  We were also given milk, which we later realized was sour.  It tasted similar to yogurt although it had more chunks and had been cultured for 2-3 days in a bucket.  

 

 

We stopped by the office one last time to get the rest of Festo’s team before heading off on a hike.  There were 8 of us that walked through town and up Kaluwe, one of the Mbeya mountains.  The trail started off with a gradual incline and then got steeper and steeper.  We walked up slowly and stopped for breaks along the way.  Once we reached the top, we had a view over the city and could see the Ngozi Crater in the distance.  Working our way down was almost as complicated as the up as there was loose dirt and several people fell at different times.  

 

 

 

The sun was setting as we walked back and we grabbed a taxi home after so much walking.  Festo’s mother had come to visit from the village and was waiting for us at home.  We chatted while dinner was prepared and then sat down for rice and pea curry.  After we ate, the shower process was repeated before crawling in for another night.  

 

We had planned to leave the next day after tea, but ended up hanging around the house and being entertained by the kids.  Festo was out so we did our best to communicate with those around.  I took a walk with a neighbor to the market and tried to pick up more Swahili.  He returned in time for a late lunch and then took us out for a walk to see more markets.  We wandered through looking at different stalls and into the section where they were pressing the sunflower seeds to make oil.  One machine would make a plastic looking material out of the shells and then it was strained and sent through a heating machine to extract the oil.  It was bottled in jugs and sold on the premises for a reasonable price.

 

 

 

 

 

We went back to the house for our final dinner and showers.  Tico came back after his and showed me his hand.  I didn’t know what I was looking for and commented on something random.  He then told me to look for his ring.  While batheing, he watched as his wedding ring slid off his finger and went into the same hole that had taken 2 of our bars of soap days before.  As with mine, it was also a Qalo ring, but it’s still hard to watch it wash away.

 

Later that night, we talked about our upcoming plans.  Festo wanted us to stay for breakfast, but we had 390 kms (242 miles) to get to Iringa and we knew it’d be an all day journey.  He walked with us to the daladala the next morning and we said our goodbyes.  We thanked him for his hospitality and opening up his home to us for a true Tanzanian experience.  His wife was a great cook, his kids were full of energy and everyone helped us to learn a little Swahili.

 

Helpful tips:

• There is transport from Livingstonia to Chitimba throughout the day, but earlier is betterto guarantee a ride.
• It is possible to get a Tanzanian visa on arrival, but as we needed a multiple entry we got ours in Malawi prior to arrival.
• Mbeya is a good stopover between countries although is quite large and spread out.