Maybe one should know that a train journey is not off to a good start when the first thing one's fellow train compartment passenger says is "here is your bra", after its fallen on her head in an attempt to find and pull out one's flip-flops from one's bag.
However, I either ignored or just didn't see this as a warning sign. I was sharing a second class cabin with five Tanzanian women on my way to Mbeya (an overnight train ride), and sure, it was a little embarrasing to have my underwear coming raining down out of my pack onto their heads, but once I had recovered from that and settled myself into the corner of the bench seat by the window, I was feeling fine. I had been told this train ride was one of the most scenic in Africa, and I figured it would be a good chance to practice my Swahili too. And indeed, it did start out fantastically--I watched the slums of Dar vanish; replaced by lush fields of banana trees and maize, farmers in colorful clothing working the red earth, and huts made entirely of thatch dotting the landscape. From the comfort of the train, even the run-down village shops and shacks looked picturesque.
Palm trees and mango trees gave way a few hours later to what I think of as traditional African bush--baobabs and scrubby acacia trees everywhere. And then the animals appeared! I caught glimpses of baby giraffe, impala, wildebeest and zebra as we whizzed by, and knew that simba (swahili word for lion) must be lurking around somewhere. My fellow train compartment passengers alternated between napping and buying snacks and drinks from the local villagers who would come out selling their goods each time we came to a stop at a station--fried chicken, roasted bananas, mangos and coconuts.
Around sunset the spectacular Uruzungu mountains appeared, and it seemed like we were making good time. Haha. Little did I know. Shortly after, there seemed to be some sort of commotion going on, and everyone started talking really fast and loudly. I managed to get out of the one girl in my cabin who spoke some english that there was an accident up ahead on the tracks, and that we would have to wait in a village called Mlimbe till it cleared. How long, I asked? Three days, she said. THREE DAYS!! We were going to be stranded in this tiny village in the middle of nowhere for three days??! How could this be possible?? But it was. We pulled into Mlimbe station and came to a grinding halt. It was dark already, and I went to bed on my top bunk, rather than deal with thinking about the situation.
When I woke up the next morning, we were still, of course, in Mlimbe. But now all the train bathrooms had been shut, the fans turned off and no running water. I asked about other forms of transportation, but apparently we really were in the dead center of the middle of nowhere, with no roads even remotely nearby. After a brief panic, I settled down to being dirty, sweaty, hot, thirsty and bored for the next three days. At least I had my Swahili book and tennis biscuits. I kept myself occupied in the morning by walking around the village with Mwafo (the girl in my compartment who spoke a little english) while she bought fish (covered completely in flies and smelling horrible). She treated me to a big stick of sugarcane, and showed me how to eat it, which is not easy but is delicious! In the afternoon I played cards with some British and Kiwi backpackers in the lounge car, sweating literally buckets with no breeze, no relief, and the smell of shit wafting over from the nearby station latrines. Just waiting.
To cut a long story short, we left Mlimbe around 9pm that night, about 24 hours after we'd arrived. We made it safely to Mbeya, climbing high up in to the mountains, with killer scenic views. I got off the train smelly and tired, but after a shower and nap at the hotel I'm staying at, feeling totally fine. So while actually in Mlimbe I was pretty damn miserable, looking back somehow it doesn't seem so bad. A good reminder of what the phrase "African time" really means, and insight into the way that people here don't seem to be in a rush for anything, ever. A delay like that would make headline news in the States--people stranded in swampy backcountry--but here, no one seemed to give a hoot. It's just life in Africa, african transportation. Mwafo said, well now you will have a story to tell people at home about your train experience, and she was totally right.
