“It’s a small world” is more than an annoying song; it’s a cliché that holds true more often than not. Never have I been more supportive of this notion than in Tanzania. When I left Dar es Salaam, my one friend and co-worker encouraged me to contact his brother in Arusha. When Robert, my Safari guide mentioned that he was Chugga, a tribe from Moshi in the North of Tanzania, I had to ask him an unlikely question:
Robert, I asked, do you know many other Chuggas in Arusha? Yes, really? Do you happen to know any by the last name of X? Yes, really? Wow. Well, now this is a longshot, but what about Y as the first name. What, you went to school with him? Do you have his phone number or contact information? No, but you have known him for 15 years! That is crazy. So he is a former national team rugby player, and the one person in Africa, and a city of half a million that we have in common? Incredible. I have his contact info, so I’ll call him, and maybe we can all go out together. You can reunite.
Last night Emanuel and Robert and I had two rounds together next to a live band in an Arusha pub. It was a fantastic evening of laughter, excitement at the serendipity, and appreciation for coincidence. Our intersection was an affirmation of optimism. It was a vote for idealism, for unliklihood and longshots, and it was the world telling us all that life makes sense in defined moments. It also underscored the satisfaction in bringing two sides together, and reaching an accord of unlikely unity. It was the impossible idea that I could travel to Africa, meet two people in remote corners of Tanzania who knew a third man in common. It was the impossible notion that I could reunite two friends after 15 years apart, when I was a world away, alone in sub-Saharan Africa. It was an immensely satisfying feeling.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Safari
We were picked up by TrueAfrica, the name of our Safari company. We met Robert, our guide who had worked formerly in Zimbabwe, Botswana, and at the Crater Lodge in Ngorongoro, and we set off on three days of adventure.
First stop was Tarangire National Park, a few hour-drive from Arusha. Along the way we had a game ride through the park where we not only saw Zebra, Elephants, Giraffes, but also a Leopard reclined in a swamp-side tree. We made our way to Oliver’s Camp, the deepest of the park camps, alone on the far side of the swamp. Oliver’s Camp consists of eight luxurious tents, and all-inclusive food. Alone in my tent, I was given a whistle to signal for help, and guaranteed 5 gallons of hot water and a coffee at 0700 for my outdoor shower. As I washed, I watched three elephants forage 50m away in the bush.
From Oliver’s Camp we made our way back through Tarangire, where we saw two lions reclined in a tree, and a third wandering member of the pride. A truly rare sighting in Tarangire, we believed our luck to be out, and headed for Plantation Lodge, our next stop.
Plantation Lodge lies between Manyara and Ngorongoro to the Southwest of Arusha, and en route to the Serengeti. Because the migration is not this time of year, and because the drive to Serengeti is far, we had opted for closer, comparable parks. Robert recommended the Mara River crossing of the Wildebeest in northern Tanzania, but this required a bush flight and more than the $1000 we had already paid for three days, so we decided to leave something for our 30s.
Compared with Oliver’s Camp, Plantation Lodge was a Euro Pottery Barn meets Africa. My decorations were in German, and the poolside was littered with French and Italians. The food was good, but the South African wine was not included, and amounted to a small fortune in cost.
On Sunday morning we departed for Ngorongoro Crater at 0700. More than the expected drive length, we didn’t arrive into the crater floor until around 0900. However, the wait was more than worth it. Within the first hour in the park we had seen hundreds of animals, and the intersection of wildlife at a watering hole. Birds, Wildebeest, Buffalo, Zebra, and Hippo all mingled at the water’s edge.
No more than 30 minutes later, we happened upon a Lioness stalking her prey in the tall grass. Though a stray Zebra came within meters of the prone lioness, she waited to approach the large group instead. In a moment, she exploded from the grass, and made a swipe at a nearby Zebra. Her attempt failed with the Wildebeest and zebra scattering in a ripple of black dots atop a golden tapestry of grass.
Only the buffalo remained unmoved, casually grazing as though nothing had happened. With the word out, the lioness’ chance was done, and she walked away with a nonchalance of a good but arrogant player who thinks defeat is minimized by the claim that it wasn’t their best effort; “If I had tried harder I totally would have gotten you.” Well, eat me… oh, that’s right, you tried that!
The rest of the afternoon consisted of nine more lions, hippos, two cheetahs, and thousands of other creatures such as elephants, zebra, Wildebeest, buffalo, ostrich, hyenas, warthogs, and jackals. Two post-elephant Ndovu beers at the Wilderness Lodge on the crater’s edge overlooking an incredible landscape, and we set back to Arusha.
First stop was Tarangire National Park, a few hour-drive from Arusha. Along the way we had a game ride through the park where we not only saw Zebra, Elephants, Giraffes, but also a Leopard reclined in a swamp-side tree. We made our way to Oliver’s Camp, the deepest of the park camps, alone on the far side of the swamp. Oliver’s Camp consists of eight luxurious tents, and all-inclusive food. Alone in my tent, I was given a whistle to signal for help, and guaranteed 5 gallons of hot water and a coffee at 0700 for my outdoor shower. As I washed, I watched three elephants forage 50m away in the bush.
From Oliver’s Camp we made our way back through Tarangire, where we saw two lions reclined in a tree, and a third wandering member of the pride. A truly rare sighting in Tarangire, we believed our luck to be out, and headed for Plantation Lodge, our next stop.
Plantation Lodge lies between Manyara and Ngorongoro to the Southwest of Arusha, and en route to the Serengeti. Because the migration is not this time of year, and because the drive to Serengeti is far, we had opted for closer, comparable parks. Robert recommended the Mara River crossing of the Wildebeest in northern Tanzania, but this required a bush flight and more than the $1000 we had already paid for three days, so we decided to leave something for our 30s.
Compared with Oliver’s Camp, Plantation Lodge was a Euro Pottery Barn meets Africa. My decorations were in German, and the poolside was littered with French and Italians. The food was good, but the South African wine was not included, and amounted to a small fortune in cost.
On Sunday morning we departed for Ngorongoro Crater at 0700. More than the expected drive length, we didn’t arrive into the crater floor until around 0900. However, the wait was more than worth it. Within the first hour in the park we had seen hundreds of animals, and the intersection of wildlife at a watering hole. Birds, Wildebeest, Buffalo, Zebra, and Hippo all mingled at the water’s edge.
No more than 30 minutes later, we happened upon a Lioness stalking her prey in the tall grass. Though a stray Zebra came within meters of the prone lioness, she waited to approach the large group instead. In a moment, she exploded from the grass, and made a swipe at a nearby Zebra. Her attempt failed with the Wildebeest and zebra scattering in a ripple of black dots atop a golden tapestry of grass.
Only the buffalo remained unmoved, casually grazing as though nothing had happened. With the word out, the lioness’ chance was done, and she walked away with a nonchalance of a good but arrogant player who thinks defeat is minimized by the claim that it wasn’t their best effort; “If I had tried harder I totally would have gotten you.” Well, eat me… oh, that’s right, you tried that!
The rest of the afternoon consisted of nine more lions, hippos, two cheetahs, and thousands of other creatures such as elephants, zebra, Wildebeest, buffalo, ostrich, hyenas, warthogs, and jackals. Two post-elephant Ndovu beers at the Wilderness Lodge on the crater’s edge overlooking an incredible landscape, and we set back to Arusha.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Arusha
On Friday morning, I arrived in Arusha on a Precision Air flight from Dar es Salaam. Like Yak Airlines in Nepal, Precision Air made me think twice about getting aboard. Despite its rock-star status in country, the name implies that in any alternative there is some doubt about arriving at the precise location. At least Precision Air guarantees it in the name.
When my plane touched down in Arusha, a major city of nearly half a million, I could not think of history and geography that the town implied. It is the location of the peace agreement pre-genocide in Rwanda that Habyarimana, a moderate Hutu signed with the Tutsi members of his nation. It is now the site of the International Tribunal for the Rwandan Genocide at the Arusha International Conference Center (AICC). More commonly known, it is a major jumping-off point for safaris to the Serengeti and expeditions to Moshi, the town below Kilimanjaro.
After a heated negotiation with a Masai tradesman in a local market, and pride getting the better of the $20 it involved, I left empty-handed, but excited for my coming adventure in Tarangire and Ngorongoro Crater.
When my plane touched down in Arusha, a major city of nearly half a million, I could not think of history and geography that the town implied. It is the location of the peace agreement pre-genocide in Rwanda that Habyarimana, a moderate Hutu signed with the Tutsi members of his nation. It is now the site of the International Tribunal for the Rwandan Genocide at the Arusha International Conference Center (AICC). More commonly known, it is a major jumping-off point for safaris to the Serengeti and expeditions to Moshi, the town below Kilimanjaro.
After a heated negotiation with a Masai tradesman in a local market, and pride getting the better of the $20 it involved, I left empty-handed, but excited for my coming adventure in Tarangire and Ngorongoro Crater.
The Ivo Mapunda Intro
Last Wednesday, I ate traditional lunch, and lectured on market opportunity. For an hour I both ate condensed ugali (dense corn flower paste, similar to Indian idly), kitimoya (fried pork) and salad, and for an hour I lectured on how one should assess the market before endeavoring to write a business plan.
Market estimation and case studies, as is used by McKinsey and others, is a good skill to learn. Today we estimated the daily sales of VodaCom, a main cullular provider in Dar es Salaam. While results were hardly infallible, they were noteworthy, and the process of estimation was effective. Many failed to understand the basic questions required: how many people live in Dar es Salaam, how many used cell phones, what percantage used VodaCom, how long did they talk per day, what did it cost them per minute, how much did this translate into voucher card sales, etc. But at the least, the estimation problem created an understanding that all information is imperfect, and that extrapolation for market estimation is imperative.
When I reiterated that I was a consultant, there to help those individuals writing their business plans, I received a heartwarming welcome. Tomorrow may be a new day, filled with requests that are difficult, enlightening, and eye opening.
Tonight, at 10:30 pm when I arrived back at the hotel, I had a beer with the Tanzanian national soccer team. I met both the keeper and the forward, two men who spoke good English, played pro in Maputo (that’s the capital of Mozambique), and convinced me that I should attend the Africa Cup Semi-Final on Saturday in the Dar national stadium. Though they wore “Serengeti’ sponsored jerseys, I drank Ndovu, and went out with my mates after we spoke. Now the fact that I have met Ivo Mapunda, the Tanzanian national goalkeeper and celebrity icon, gives me local status in nearly all situations.
Market estimation and case studies, as is used by McKinsey and others, is a good skill to learn. Today we estimated the daily sales of VodaCom, a main cullular provider in Dar es Salaam. While results were hardly infallible, they were noteworthy, and the process of estimation was effective. Many failed to understand the basic questions required: how many people live in Dar es Salaam, how many used cell phones, what percantage used VodaCom, how long did they talk per day, what did it cost them per minute, how much did this translate into voucher card sales, etc. But at the least, the estimation problem created an understanding that all information is imperfect, and that extrapolation for market estimation is imperative.
When I reiterated that I was a consultant, there to help those individuals writing their business plans, I received a heartwarming welcome. Tomorrow may be a new day, filled with requests that are difficult, enlightening, and eye opening.
Tonight, at 10:30 pm when I arrived back at the hotel, I had a beer with the Tanzanian national soccer team. I met both the keeper and the forward, two men who spoke good English, played pro in Maputo (that’s the capital of Mozambique), and convinced me that I should attend the Africa Cup Semi-Final on Saturday in the Dar national stadium. Though they wore “Serengeti’ sponsored jerseys, I drank Ndovu, and went out with my mates after we spoke. Now the fact that I have met Ivo Mapunda, the Tanzanian national goalkeeper and celebrity icon, gives me local status in nearly all situations.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Wedges
My experience in Tanzania is humbling. Today I taught a man about start-up financing, online marketing, and about web analytics. He repeated my words, he nodded, and he sought my expertise when it is only afforded by circumstance. A proud man, an older man, graciously thanked me for my time as I, a 24-year-old from 10,000 miles away could only question the inequities in the world. Who am I to explain success to a man with calloused hands, pocked cheeks, wise eyes, and a good heart. He is a man who has seen hardship, who has labored through a world with fewer opportunities.
Through resolve he has devised a business plan in English. It’s more than 20 pages, and he is a tribesman from the Kenyan border. He has learned and misused the cliches of the Western world, fighting for an acceptance that may bring him opportunity. And I see the sad irony of a proud man misusing English phrases, pandering for opportunity that does not exist for him natively. And who am I to lecture on this. I seek to advise, not condescend, but my very opportunities dispose me to condescension. It is condescension not by consent, but by circumstance. And this is without my desire. I seek equality, and I search for this through self-mockery. I fumble in Swahili. I spark conversation about football and Bollywood. I am determined to mentor as an equal, but fortune has driven a sharp wedge between our circumstances. Cultural understanding can minimize the wedge, but it exists as a persistent thorn. And I cannot ignore it.
I only hope that the very act of being cognizant of inequalities mitigates the extent to which I am guilty of my circumstances.
Through resolve he has devised a business plan in English. It’s more than 20 pages, and he is a tribesman from the Kenyan border. He has learned and misused the cliches of the Western world, fighting for an acceptance that may bring him opportunity. And I see the sad irony of a proud man misusing English phrases, pandering for opportunity that does not exist for him natively. And who am I to lecture on this. I seek to advise, not condescend, but my very opportunities dispose me to condescension. It is condescension not by consent, but by circumstance. And this is without my desire. I seek equality, and I search for this through self-mockery. I fumble in Swahili. I spark conversation about football and Bollywood. I am determined to mentor as an equal, but fortune has driven a sharp wedge between our circumstances. Cultural understanding can minimize the wedge, but it exists as a persistent thorn. And I cannot ignore it.
I only hope that the very act of being cognizant of inequalities mitigates the extent to which I am guilty of my circumstances.
Big Games of Hunting
Last night 75 entrepreneurs gathered in a room. Overlooking the skyline of Dar es Salaam, they received their first lecture in business development. Plans were diverse, participants gracious, and the atmosphere excited. Handshakes are firm, smiles wide, and the commodity “Mambo / Poa” Swahili introduction can be traded for laughs.
I met and heard the business plans of three exceptional entrepreneurs. All had traveled great distances. From Dodoma to Mbeya on the Southwestern border with Zambia, 12-hour bus rides were common.
Ideas included a pyramid-style marketing scheme, a big game hunting travel agency, a regional IT hub, a Japanese pottery factory, a public business directory, and more.
Words like “Asante” and “Dreams” were spread around. Though the AC was high, the feelings were warm, and the opportunities large.
Today I went on a treasure hunt throughout Dar es Salaam for a local attorney who had absconded from a friend’s brother. Two-dozen offices, buildings, and secretaries later, we finally found our legal friend. Although hot and inconvenient, our tour of Dar, up and down back alley staircases, Swahili hellos and thank yous, secretaries and subtle knocks, taught me much about the African spirit. I say the African spirit because I’ve heard it referenced by others as the ability to problem solve when resources are tight. Though my coworker’s brother had the issue with the lawyer, he spent considerable time and effort locating this man. Whereas I am sure that any American counterpart would have called the effort futile after half the offices, we continued until we found him. Part of this is caused by an inherent inefficiency in the numbering, details, names, signs, etc. But what is commendable is that in spite of this dearth of infrastructure, the human spirit of helping others transcends inconvenience and is not only expected, but unexpectedly common.
A trip to the National Museum, two hours of one-on-one consulting, a few PowerPoint decks, plates of Thai food, and Namibian beers later, and it’s nearly Wednesday. Today I was the two goards that mixed the soil of Tanganyika and Zanzibar in the early 1960s as a symbol of their unity. In the next week I hope to set foot on both sets of soil, though Ngorongoro crater calls near the heart of the Masai-region.
I met and heard the business plans of three exceptional entrepreneurs. All had traveled great distances. From Dodoma to Mbeya on the Southwestern border with Zambia, 12-hour bus rides were common.
Ideas included a pyramid-style marketing scheme, a big game hunting travel agency, a regional IT hub, a Japanese pottery factory, a public business directory, and more.
Words like “Asante” and “Dreams” were spread around. Though the AC was high, the feelings were warm, and the opportunities large.
Today I went on a treasure hunt throughout Dar es Salaam for a local attorney who had absconded from a friend’s brother. Two-dozen offices, buildings, and secretaries later, we finally found our legal friend. Although hot and inconvenient, our tour of Dar, up and down back alley staircases, Swahili hellos and thank yous, secretaries and subtle knocks, taught me much about the African spirit. I say the African spirit because I’ve heard it referenced by others as the ability to problem solve when resources are tight. Though my coworker’s brother had the issue with the lawyer, he spent considerable time and effort locating this man. Whereas I am sure that any American counterpart would have called the effort futile after half the offices, we continued until we found him. Part of this is caused by an inherent inefficiency in the numbering, details, names, signs, etc. But what is commendable is that in spite of this dearth of infrastructure, the human spirit of helping others transcends inconvenience and is not only expected, but unexpectedly common.
A trip to the National Museum, two hours of one-on-one consulting, a few PowerPoint decks, plates of Thai food, and Namibian beers later, and it’s nearly Wednesday. Today I was the two goards that mixed the soil of Tanganyika and Zanzibar in the early 1960s as a symbol of their unity. In the next week I hope to set foot on both sets of soil, though Ngorongoro crater calls near the heart of the Masai-region.
Monday, September 3, 2007
Wings to Africa
My British Airways flight departed from London on Saturday, and 10 hours later, after having crossed the dark horizons of Libya, Sudan, and Uganda, the sun rose over Kenya. Pancake clouds sat silhouetted against a red sky like the cliche acacia tree photos on the Serengetti. I was landing near the birthplace of humans, near the great Rift Valley, the mountainous Kilimanjaro, descending toward the Swahili coast over an expansive plain home to the Big Five and the Massai warrior.
My arrival in Dar es Salaam was not without hiccup. Though customs was a breeze, my driver was late on arrival, so I meandered through the barrage of signs and taxi cat calls with the poise of a seasoned traveler. I expected El Salvador or India, but my Tanzanian arrival was not nearly as in-your-face.
The drive to my hotel, the Golden Tulip, passed at high speeds through relatively vacated streets. The occasional street-crosser would dart across our path, and we'd artfully dodge cyclists with teetering cartons of eggs on back. We passed Coco Beach, and the Oyster Bay Hotel en route to my new home.
The Golden Tulip has a breezy, wi-fi lobby, and a gorgeous pool overlooking a teal Indian Ocean. Palms like the walkway, and the veranda has hosted innumerable African leaders and even the former UN Secretary General. It offers a faded elegance, and helpful, if contrived and overstaffed, service.
After a live Cricket match, an ocean-side Safari and Kilimanjaro beer, a night of live music, and an attempt at purchasing a Tanzanian VodaCom SIM card, I fell asleep. The jet lag lingers, but adventure remains its bold, and successful, opponent.
My arrival in Dar es Salaam was not without hiccup. Though customs was a breeze, my driver was late on arrival, so I meandered through the barrage of signs and taxi cat calls with the poise of a seasoned traveler. I expected El Salvador or India, but my Tanzanian arrival was not nearly as in-your-face.
The drive to my hotel, the Golden Tulip, passed at high speeds through relatively vacated streets. The occasional street-crosser would dart across our path, and we'd artfully dodge cyclists with teetering cartons of eggs on back. We passed Coco Beach, and the Oyster Bay Hotel en route to my new home.
The Golden Tulip has a breezy, wi-fi lobby, and a gorgeous pool overlooking a teal Indian Ocean. Palms like the walkway, and the veranda has hosted innumerable African leaders and even the former UN Secretary General. It offers a faded elegance, and helpful, if contrived and overstaffed, service.
After a live Cricket match, an ocean-side Safari and Kilimanjaro beer, a night of live music, and an attempt at purchasing a Tanzanian VodaCom SIM card, I fell asleep. The jet lag lingers, but adventure remains its bold, and successful, opponent.
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