A journal of two weeks of travel in Sub-Saharan Africa: South Africa (Sabi Sand, Cape Town), Kenya (Nairobi), and Tanzania (Serengeti, Ngorongoro, Zanzibar, Dar es Salaam)

1. The REAL Africa Journal
LIONS & TIGERS & BOERS, OH MY!1
February 11‐28, 2011
By David Berkowitz
Table of Contents
SOUTH AFRICA .......................................................................................................................................... 3
KENYA ..................................................................................................................................................... 30
.
TANZANIA ............................................................................................................................................... 33
.
Appendix: 28 Books for Your Africa Reading List ‐ Safaris, Politics, Culture, History, and More ......... 100
1
There are no wild tigers in Africa. I still had this as the original title of my handwritten journal and couldn’t toss it
entirely.

2. Itinerary
NYC – start
Amsterdam – stopover
JNB (Johannesburg) – one night transit at Sun OR Tambo hotel
Hoedspruit ‐ arrive at Djuma, room 2
Mpumalanga – leave Djuma
Cape Town – Radisson rm 3201
JNB – stopover
Nairobi – transit, Ole Sereni rm335
Kilimanjaro – drive to Gibbs Farm, rm 14, Serena Serengeti, rm 34
Serengeti Airstrip – leave
Zanzibar – Stone Town Serena – rm 22
Dar – dinner and stopover
Amsterdam – stopover and day trip
NYC
11 airports, 11 flights

3. SOUTH AFRICA
Sat 2/12/11
8:10am
Schiphol Airport, Amsterdam
When I first visited London, as a boy of, oh, 7?, I insisted it wasn’t real Europe – a place I wouldn’t
discover until arriving in France many years later. Such was Egypt in ’09. That was real Arabia, real North
Africa, not real Africa, with hippos and elephants, malaria, and of course real Africans (the last
designation is a form of one that has caused more than one instance of genocide, so don’t read too
much into this). Most incredible about Egypt is that, contrary to any remotely reasonable expectation,
what is missing from Egypt is a Mubarak in power. Perhaps he’ll be in real Europe soon enough.
Now we wait in an adorable lounge with oddly shaped furniture, not far from stands and markets selling
tulips, cheese, caviar, and other essentials. On person, excluding one checked bag, are about 60 lbs of
luggage. Our breakfast includes brie, Diet Coke (C), seltzer (D), and stroopwafels that taste just like the
Wafels and Dinges truck offerings back home.
One easy flight so far. I didn’t sleep enough but did miss the middle aged woman pass out in the aisle a
couple feet away. She wound up being alright.
11:45pm
O. Tambo Airport Hotel by JNB
An easy travel day – and I mean day. We left for JFK at 2pm ET and arrived at our hotel 24 hours later.
The tail end – passport control and baggage – was especially easy at JNB. SO far, it’s working out.
Economy Plus on KLM really is more spacious, and staff at airports and in‐flight has been unusually
friendly. Using Malarone instead of doxycycline has spared me 60 days of nausea.
And we’re here – in AFRICA! Real Africa. Yay!
2/13/11 JNB
While abroad, you relish those moments that scream, “You’re in a different place.” Some whisper it –
the Muslim prayer rooms for men and women as we departed, and the man in the galabeya in the
elevator and the breakfast at the hotel (a savory spread – I had mushrooms, roasted tomato, chicken
sausage, brie, sparkling water). Then there are those at the airport this morning, the “helpers” who
weigh your luggage, get you to the check‐in counter, and demand extra tip for “overweight” bags –
something impossible for us given how little we packed.

4. Hotel = very comfortable. I slept well, except for a dream of an adventure in a South American river
where I joined a trio of Christian protagonists each seeking to remedy a Medusa curse placed there, at
the base of a mountain topped by a Christ statue. It woke me, and returning to sleep was challenging.
The last image of the dream: the curse broken, an iron‐frame cross floating down the river, and while
the trio acknowledged I was Jewish, I’d join them for the ride.
For better or worse, I had no stigmata upon waking.
11am
Took a shuttle here to our turboprop, only to hear of a mechanical difficulty so we wait for our seat.
Sitting next to a Welsh couple that lived here –
[11:15am – on plane]
‐‐ there’s something truly striking. They lived here 27 years ago, and I miss the reference to the timeline
at first, until the wife says, “It was under apartheid then.” Apartheid – 1984. Mandela was still in prison.
Black violence was picking up. Botha, the Crocodile, kept flashing his grin. The wife added, “It’s much
more relaxed now.” An understatement of course, but a tactful one, as she never lived here when it was
one person, one vote.
It had crossed my mind last night, looking at the man who picked us up from the airport, that if he lived
in SA just 20 years ago, he’d have lived under apartheid. As Egypt has taught us, as South Sudan has
taught us, as Obama’s election has taught us, the world is not done changing.

5.
3:40pm
Djuma Vuyatela sitting room
The Rules
1. Lock your doors when you leave. The monkeys could otherwise enter and have a monkey party.
2. Do not go around alone at night. The reserve is secure from elephants but not lions and
cheetahs.
3. Really, watch out for the monkeys.
4. Duck under the electric elephant wire.
5. Don’t stand up in safari vehicles as it can frighten animals by breaking the profile of the Land
Cruiser.
At Djuma Vuyatela, we’re not exactly roughing it

6. The safari day is a well planned one. Here’s how our regimen works:
5am: Knock at door to rouse us. Hot water boils for tea in our study.
5:30am: Morning drive (includes light refreshment)
8:30: Return for breakfast
10‐1: Optional activities – bush hike, town visit
1: Lunch
4: Afternoon tea served. Mint tea and scones w/jam + clotted cream today were superb – best scones
I’ve eaten.
4:30: PM drive – 3 hrs (includes cocktails)
8: Dinner.
Tonight: Mussels in creamy white wine sauce; feta, greens, salami, red pepper salad; lamb chops,
mashed potatoes, carrots (also offered chicken); strawberry crepes with mascarpone.
Really wonderful spread.
A cheetah up close

7. Best game today:
4 cheetahs – male, and a beautiful giraffe
A couple rhino in distance
Impala, warthogs, the most beautiful birds, and a couple bucks with bullseye targets on their butts
(kudu)
So heavenly here – really spoiled.

8.
2/14/11
7:47pm Djuma Vuyatela
8 hours in a Land Cruiser today
AM Drive: A pride of lions – one male I thought would eat me, a fast‐paced leopard hunt with a great
game of hide and seek, hippos, vultures
PM Drive: Kudu , elephants – so wonderful! , chased a bunny, puff adder snake, sleeping lions, very scary
lions at night
Before PM: Monkeys at the lodge! One was climbing our roof as I napped

11. 10:30pm
Mid‐morning – went to towns of Utah and Dixie with Amos the tracker, who lives in Utah with much of
his family, and every other person we met seemed to be a relative.
Getting serenaded by nursery schoolers – twice – was a ridiculously fun highlight, and the kids seem to
be learning a lot – in multiple languages. In Dixie, the principal noted school fees are R40 a month –
about $6‐$7. Parents who can’t pay must bring firewood.
Can you find me? Easiest game of Where’s Waldo ever!

13. Lunch – a Valentine’s spread too abundant to name. For that window we ate alone. By dinner – and the
PM drive – we were joined by 5 others:
Peter and Mary of Boston – he’s an environmental engineer. Sweet couple with four grown daughters.
Fittingly, he had some hockey trash talking to do. Fittingly over dinner, no one cared.
Paula, Husband, son studying at Uni in Singapore. The couple partnered with an aloe farmer in northern
South Africa near Zimbabwe. Farmer died. Husband strangely obsessed with animals having sex – like
lions having sex on command, and some animals turning gay.
Guide “Merman” said worst tourists are Chinese since they all follow each other. If one stands up in the
car, they all do, so then he steps on it.
Dinner = v. good – bacon/camembert/cranberry in phyllo, salad, fish, cake. Great vodka and apple
liquor.
Fun facts:
‐ Cheetahs can be domesticated
‐ If you are being chased by a lion, throw a rock behind it
‐ Honey badgers are the toughest animal out here
‐ Don’t shine a light at a giraffe at night
It is fun out here. Though I’m more scared of being killed by the aloe farmer than a jungle cat.

14.
Scary, but not as scary as an aloe farmer

15. 2/15
Djuma
10:20pm
Woke to a rainy morning, rainy enough that we skipped the 5:30 safari. I went back to sleep – and
crashed until 1. Much needed.
Did lunch here with the Bostoners. This time, Asian‐inspired fare – pork with noodles, other good stuff.
Returned, then afternoon game drive in mostly gorgeous weather.
‐ 2 herds of elephants, the first with 11, including a baby just days old – AMAZING
‐ A family of 3 rhinos
‐ 4 giraffes – with one huge one that materialized last
‐ A hyena
‐ A snail, millipedes
‐ Impala, wildebeest
Also saw monkeys at the lodge. A few were scampering outside our room and eyeing me through the
window.
Also said hi to a kudu couple and George the warthog.
With George the warthog

16.
A baby elephant just learning how to use his trunk

17.
Dinner:
A delicious salmon mousse and lox canapé, salad, tender lamb shank on the bone, lemon cheesecake
Sat around campfire, the boma. New couple joined, from Cape Town, on a wedding / honeymoon jaunt.
Not much to say about them yet.
Learned more about the animal kingdom from Hendry/Merman – when to share down lions and run
from elephants. It’s the wet season here, so it’s more lush and beautiful, but we would see more
animals in their winter.
The only catch: the prey will be much less well fed. But the cats are happy.

18. 2/16
1:10pm
Nelspruit – MQP
At the airport for our flight to Cape Town, with half the flight Indian and another quarter a teenage boy
sports team. It’s another boarding free for all and yet it works. In 10 minutes we’re all on the plane and
seated. I expected a loud flight though.
Did another 5:30am drive. Saw a pack of hyenas looking for a morning kill, chased a female leopard –
though Cape Towner Christina complained we were driving too fast, and that knocked the wind out of
Hendry’s sails – the whole ride lost a lot of energy after that. Mayer then lost his camera and we had to
turn around after a bit of leopard spotting.
A bit later we came across the male leopard and walked right by us, staring us down.
Later we’d see a lone, older giraffe, and some underwater hippos.
Returning to the lodge, we had some breakfast – such great omelettes – and the monkeys were stirring.
One little thief took the toast from the Dutchman’s table and hid behind a pole to eat it. He looked as
guilty as he was. Staff were armed with slingshots, to no avail.
As we finished packing, the monkeys visited our room. Looking atop the roof, a couple proud monkey
parents were holding a newborn baby – so sweet. Said our farewells, leaving regretfully. We didn’t need
to do any more drives there but it would be fun to relax there awhile.

19.
Caught! A toast‐stealing monkey

20.
2/17
10:06pm
Radisson Blu Waterfront
Cape Town

21. The flight over went smoothly enough, even as a head cold made it somewhat less pleasant.
Got our bags and met Graham, who would be our guide today. At the hotel – gorgeous, water views,
though with wind so loud it banged our doors and pushed through the window – we passed out, stirring
only for room service of chicken clubs, mini Greek salads, strawberries with marshmallow spread to dip
it in (C liked it more than me). It was too cloudy, thanks to the wind, to make it worthwhile to do Table
Mountain.
That was yesterday.
Today – quick breakfast, then off to waterfront, very similar to Fisherman’s Wharf and South St Seaport
in a pretty but fabricated way. We hit the ferry to Robben Island, which at several parts – from
disembarking to the tour reminded us of Governors Island. The “museum” – touring the prison with a
former inmate, ours arrested in 1977 and stayed for 5 years for participating in a student protest – has
no equivalent, not with the former political prisoners arrested for what in the US would be acts
protected by 1st Amendment rights leading it.
Seeing penguins was fun too.

23. Then at 12:30, met Graham.
Stopped for lunch at River Café, had delicious gazpacho and well prepared King Klip – a local fare. And
off we went, penguin colony (SO much fun), Cape Point and Cape of Good Hope (pretty, but really just
another pretty place) and Chapman’s Peak – truly majestic drive. There’s a lot of beauty around here,
but so far it’s not coming together for either of us as some greater whole to make it one of the world’s
great cities.
Headed back to hotel for a bit. Then made plans for tomorrow.
Dinner: Five Fleas, a hot restaurant downtown. The mussels were awesome, springbok decent, but
wanted more butternut squash puree. Cara thought just alright – had ostrich. One big hit: Cadbury
caramilk PS bar – loved it. Had it at Good Hope funicular.

26. 2/18/11
9:55am
Radisson
Good breakfast
Lox. Brie. Toast. Smoothies. Decent enough spread, if you don’t mind a few flies.
One note yesterday: really fun time having history come to life – all we’ve been reading about re:
Mandela, politics, apartheid, etc now leads to the real world.
10:02pm
Radisson
Today: post‐breakfast, hit wine country with Graham. First was a city tour, with all the layers starting
most visibly with the Dutch. To think of Diaz and de Gama stuck around, they could all be speaking
Portuguese – and they already have Brazilian style favelas.
Wine country really is beautiful. First – Morgenster. Delicious olive oils, very fresh, and a very sweet
Balsamic, plus olives, and a trio of wine.

27. Then Dornier, also via recs from work friend T. L.. Wines were ehhh but again gorgeous setting, and
awesome lunch.
1st – Flammkuchen, Dutch‐German pizza type dish of flatbread with feta, olives, butternut squash,
balsamic.
Then a juicy, well seasoned kudu steak with mixed veggies.
From there, back to the city from the Stellanbosch region and parted from Graham (master of the
wheelybin – love that word) for Table Mountain’s cable cars to see striking views, clouds rolling off the
mountain, and the adorable, fat, little Dassie (rock hyrax).

28.
A fond farewell to Graham
View from Table Mountain

29.
Best Dassie ever

30. U2 plays now – we can hear them from our room. SA’s proud to have them, with Bono as liberal as he is,
in the same stadium where they hosted the World Cup.
Dinner: Fish & Chips from the wharf, and Haagen Dazs. Pleasant walk by the stadium with an excited
populace around, and the first real sign of police in Cape Town.
2/19/11
Cape Town Airport
Catch phrase for a movie I’d love to write, set as a UK/SA version of the Hangover: “A dassie bit my
willy!”
Guaranteed smash success.
Another phrase I went to coin: calling the Cape Town – Jo.berg flight “Curry in a hurry.” Indians
everywhere.
Easy morning. Guide took us right to security. We may have even packed everything. And Djuma gave us
directions to our camera charger. Fell asleep last night as U2’s concert ended. Awesome.
KENYA
11pm
Ole Sereni Hotel
Nairobi, Kenya
Slept 1st flight to JNB. No row or zone #s at these airports, but it always works. Passport control so far
has also been easy, though Nairobi had more formalities like fingerprinting.
At JNB, waited to get my camera battery charger via Djuma to no avail – lots of waiting, and help from
Mtutu at Magic Bus, but little to show. Found a replacement though.
GREAT Indian food at Raj in the food court, including Bunny Chow!
Got more PS bars too, using up my last Rand.
Napped/read to Nairobi.
V. different place here. Airport feels lie late 70s.
Used my limited Swahili – Jambo, rafiki. (Hello, friend)
Learned some new words:
Mzungu – white person
Asante – thank you

31. Nice hotel here. Had some mixup with the transport company but got here fine, then we went to eat at
Carnivore, a Kenyan take on the churrascaria, with a fun mix of flair and décor bridging authenticity and
kitsch. Decent food, and enjoyed my Tusker beer. So cool to drink it. Not the best beer, but whatever. C
had her Savannah cider from SA.
Tastes like camel

33. Our driver told us a bit about Swahili and Nairobi.
He’s not a fan of the government – the politicians can be “nice, but mean.” He said when Obama was
elected, Kenyans thought they’d be rich. Whoops.
TANZANIA
2/20/11
Gibb’s Farm, Tanzania
9pm
Another 5am day, leaving Ole Sereni and to the Nairobi time warm airport with haphazard security and
another flight leaving on African Standard Time – though at least they’ve left. Even small flights such as
our 6‐seater on Precision Air offered beverage service and a meal – for a 45 minute flight. That’d be
unthinkable back home.

34. Getting through the leisurely passport control in Tanzania, we got our bags and met guide Geoffrey
Milinga, 35, father of 3. Bright, experienced, and self assured, he’s sometimes too much of a showman,
and deserting us at lunch for an hour to fill up on gas (‘just 10‐15 minutes’) set a poor tone. We’ll see
how he does when touring’s really underway.
The Land Cruiser – another Toyota – is covered, and the seats are a bit high for a great head‐on view.
Tomorrow should be better with the open roof. A/C doesn’t work, so it’s open windows or fry. Yet now
up near the crater it’s much cooler. Tomorrow we tour it.
It’s an interesting mix of people at Gibb’s Farm, a sprawling 16‐room estate growing its own organic
produce. It’s staffed mostly by local Iroq(?) tribesmen, a couple of whom I got a chance to converse
with. In many conversations here, we discuss language. People in Tanzania are likely to speak Swahili,
English, and a mother tongue, with 120 tribes intermarrying, and two languages unifying most people,
the mother tongues like Iroq or Ngoni (Milinga’s) are gradually threatened.
I also spoke with Loboy, a Maasai medicine man stationed here trying to bridge understanding between
Western and Masai medicine.
Breakfast: a Kenyan zeppole (larger, not hot) and a richer tasting Kit Kat at the airport, plus mango juice
Lunch: a mediocre buffet at the Arusha coffee room, a too typical safari pit stop whose food was neither
authentic nor savory
Dinner: A good but not Djuma‐worthy spread – a produce dish, chicken and rice, very good eggplant chili
and decent vegetable/paneer curry, bread, a lump of chocolate frosting, and a great cocktail: tequila,
ginger beer, honey, lemon
Also had snacks by the fire with FL mom and her lesbian daughter from Greenpeace.

35. 2/21/11
Gibb’s Farm
7pm
Things are a little off at the farm – firewood came an hour late last night, housekeeping an hour early.
Food’s so‐so, though enjoyed breakfast far more than last night’s lunch and today’s dinner. It may be
fresh off the farm, but there’s been nothing particularly Tanzanian nor delicious about it. The good news
is I’ve been a sustainable eater here, eating enough but not more. Gorgeous, unusual setting, but I
wouldn’t return. It resembles the Inkaterra Pueblo Hotel by Macchu Picchu, but I enjoyed the food and
setting more there. The bed had to have been more comfortable too.
Today – 7am departure for Ngorongoro, followed by breakfast of chocolate croissants, cheese, fruit,
juice. Made it to the entrance gate and hung out with some aggressive, thieving baboons. One tried
knocking over trash cans (successfully), and if they find your car totally open, they’ll raid it. If they don’t
find anything to their liking, they’ll leave ‘a present’ behind for you. When we left we got especially
close. One tried scaling the side of a truck, one chewed a wrapper, and a couple shamelessly mated in
front of us.

37. Ngorongoro itself is amazing – a vast caldera yet, at around 12 miles wide, it’s all contained and
manageable in a day’s drive. Mostly flat, you can often see from one end to the other.
The zebras are especially wondrous, kids in tow, after crossing in front of us and hanging with their
wildebeest friends. The lions were also gorgeous – the males were golden and majestic, though one
chickened out when it was close to catching a warthog.
Other animals:
‐ Gazelles
‐ Eland
‐ Water buffalo
‐ Black rhino (endangered)
‐ Hippos underwater

38. ‐ Jackals
‐ Elephants in the distance
‐ Hyenas
‐ A little monkey
‐ Ostriches
‐ Crowned cranes (fave)
‐ Black ___ (lunch birds)
‐ Guinea fowl
‐ Bustards
‐ Lots of others
A hell of a show, and so fortunate to see it all.
Only downside was Milinga’s overly defensive attitude at the end of the day – really unprofessional. And
the picnic lunch was fun but an underwhelming spread. Had potatoes, pasta salad, local bananas.

39.
Guinea fowl

41.
Grey crowned cranes

42.
Catering in the crater

43.
Kori bustard

44.
2/22/11
Serena Serengeti Lodge
Middle of the African plains
7pm
Forgot dinner last night – more bland miscellany with really good soup and decent bread and herbed
butter
Breakfast – some good croissants and miscellany
A long, draining, amazing day. IN the car for most of 12 hrs. Went back to Ngorongoro, but backtracked
to an ATM in town, taking out 400000 in 10000 notes w/a1500:1 exchange rate, I felt like an African Big
Man.
Then back through Ngorongoro, around the rim and some farewell views, plus more adorable baboons.

47. We wound up at a Maasai village – very authentic as this clan of 120 really lives there in this circle of
cramped, low ceilinged huts, migrating to new sources of water and pasture every several years. They
do get a few tour groups a day though, and sell their trinkets at a steep enough price that it took a bit
away from the experience. The prince who showed us around was very gracious though and spoke great
English; some Maasai don’t even speak Swahili. Wonderful as the learning was – with the dancing, fire
making and spear throwing, it’s not a life for me. I’ll pass on the cow’s blood and polygamy, and it’s the
first home I’ve entered in some time that makes my Manhattan apartment seem spacious.

50.
Later, a brief stop at Olduvai Gorge – a quick photo opp and a couple‐room museum that’s basically a
life sized Wikipedia entry, or as Cara noted, a middle school science fair project. We passed on the
lecture.
[Somehow, in this journal, I neglected to reference the Shifting Sands, an odd science fiction‐esque
phenomenon of this massive pile of dark sand that shifts 17 meters each year while retaining the same
shape and size. It would be a fitting subject for a Spielberg film, and it’s a beautiful part of the pre‐
Serengeti landscape.
]

52.
Then we hit the entrance to the Serengeti, amazing in that it’s the first spot we’ve seen with truly cold
Coke.
Before that must have been the in‐car picnic of more passable Gibb’s Farm lunch.

53. Serengeti is really something, and our luck today couldn’t have been much better, thanks to Milinga’s
animal spotting:
‐ Lions – a whole pride of them, and more hidden
‐ A group of elephants
‐ Thousands of zebras among the park’s combined 2.8 million zebra and wildebeest
‐ Quite a number of wildebeest – like the zebra, part of the great migration, though rain patterns
here have prevented all the migration to happen at the same place
‐ A leopard high up in a tree, stalking prey from her branch
‐ Dozens of giraffe, some right up close (saw great ones leaving Ngorongoro too)
‐ Hartebeest, eland, Thomson gazelle, larger gazelle
‐ A couple cheetahs on a rock
‐ Crown cranes
‐ Superb starlings with blue metallic coat at Serengeti entrance
‐ A hippo family – one yawning wide
Truly superb starlings

59.
Phenomenal day here. Serengeti’s so wide open. You can travel tens of miles and see nothing but nature
– not a hut, a sign, anything but another odd jeep.
Aside: on the warm reception we’ve received here:
It’s a little jarring how friendly people are to us – mostly sincerely friendly, even if some children do it in
hopes of food, pens, or tips.
On one hand, we are coming a great distance to visit them and we are their guests.
Yet on the other, even as Americans that didn’t have African colonies, we’ve done a lot of harm. Our
demand for ivory and rubber funded the slave trade, while we of course had millions of slaves here
ourselves. We aided in assassinating promising but unfriendly leaders like Patrice Lumumba while
supporting repressive governments in places like South Africa, Zimbabwe, Congo, Somalia, etc etc etc.
We keep in place agricultural subsidies that cripple African farmers. We lead the IMF that provides
short‐term fixes while ensuring developing nations remain in our debt indefinitely. We turn our back on
genocide and don’t demand accountability for our aid.

60. Why are we received so warmly? Not all of this list of wrongs is widely known – in America or Africa.
Much of it I only learned or paid attention to in my self‐education before traveling here; beforehand I
tuned out African news like everyone else.
We also do a lot of good as a nation with investments of resources and manpower by governments,
corporations, non‐profits, and individuals.
And personally, I’m here – spending money, asking questions, taking pictures, and spreading the word
back home.
But I can’t receive such hospitality in a totally clean conscious. What becomes of that, I’m not yet sure.
9:54pm
Dinner – pretty good
‐ Carrot ginger soup, brad
‐ Lamb, fish
‐ Papadam
Awful dessert.
Fun gift shop.
Leila Salema (good night)
2/23/11
Serena Serengeti Tanzania
9:15pm – but feels much later, even with a long nap
Woke at 4:15am. This is vacation? But here’s why we ddi it:
Drove an hour from our hotel to the Seronera area for a hot air balloon ride at sunrise, sitting in a corner
of the 3rd of 3 balloons, and with 8 compartments for a total of 16 people per ride plus a pilot.
Getting in was very uncomfortable, being on our backs waiting for liftoff as the flame felt like it was
burning the hair off my face (it didn’t). And then we tilted up and took off, floating ever so gently above
the Serengeti. Higher or lower, it’s the smoothest transportation I’ve ever been on – nothing compares.

61. Sure, takeoff was a pain and the landing (standing up, not lying back) was a bit bumpy, but the flight
was almost literally a breeze, watching the sunrise, landscape, a few passing cars, a handful of birds,
some hippos, a couple jackals, a couple antelope, a hyena. Few animals unfortunately, but no regrets.
What a wonderful way to see the landscape – see the world. So glad we took advantage of it.

65.
Then, following an explanation of tradition by a Canadian balloon pilot, we had a champagne toast, and
then traveled by car to a shady spot for an English breakfast – mimosas included. At our table were:
‐ A Tasmanian balloon pilot having the time of his life
‐ Four Danish folks
‐ And… a young Japanese newlywed couple honeymooning with… their little big‐eyed doll, Edina?
Whoever she was, none of the 3 spoke much English, but they were quite insistent that the doll
was their friend. It reminded us of the 30 Rock episode where James Franco dotes on a life‐sized
Japanese body pillow Komiko (I’m laughing hysterically just writing it). After feeding Edina
biscuits, the doll disappeared during breakfast as we munched on bacon, at which point I noted
to Cara that Edina’s best friend is a piggy bank. We could barely look over their way again. Way
to lvie up to a stereotype.
After breakfast, waiting to leave, C told me to look at something and I looked up, expecting the blue‐
balled vervet monkey in the tree. Then she said, “James Franco” and I saw Edina’s latest photo shoot.
So yes, two memorable experiences for the price of one!

67.
On the way there it was also fun, getting SO close to a few hyenas and then a fast‐moving hippo.
We were exhausted for the drive, spotting a few lions, elephants, giraffes, a ton of zebra, and some
water buffalo. This was a slow day so after stopping for lunch at a massive hippo pool with a couple
camouflaged crocodiles (lunch still disappointed but the Cadbury Dairy Milk was a welcome addition) we
drove home.
C slept, and before I did I photographed baboons staking out a leaking pipe one hut over, then explored
the property, then read awhile before passing out. A new family moved next door and borderline woke
me – such thin walls.
Dinner – Serengeti beer, hot rolls, tomato soup, a decent spread of beef, fish, veggies, etc, club soda,
and we wisely avoided dessert given last night’s debacle.

71. ON THE 3 SAFARIS
We did 3 very different safaris. It’s hard to rate them.
Djuma had the best accommodations and food. I wish I could have stayed longer. It’s a lot of fun having
open air drives and going totally off‐road, even knocking over trees. We saw some great animals there
up close – 4 cheetahs, a hippo out of the water, a couple leopards, and lions staring at us and even
growling as if ready to pounce.
But it’s contained there, you really can’t enjoy it on a very rainy day, there aren’t masses of animals, and
the landscape is the most populated. It was nice having built‐in downtime between drives.
Ngorongoro had the most beautiful setting – never saw anything like it, and it’s a world wonder.
Magnificent. But given how contained it is, one day is plenty. Gibb’s Farm was also our least favorite
place for the food and comfort, though the property is incredible.
The Serengeti is vast, and it’s Africa. The dream is real. It goes on forever. So worth seeing, and the
balloon was a huge bonus. We’ve also enjoyed the lodging. But after a couple days here, we’re ready to
move on.
You can do a cross‐country US road trip and spend less time in a car than we have. It is damn fun, but
bumpy and dirty and hot and simply draining trying to look everywhere, process it all, and keep moving
on to what’s next. In transit, you’re always with a guide – at least in TZ where foreigners can’t drive, and
we’ve had guides everywhere. It is, suffice to say, a lot. Can’t wait for Zanzibar.
2/24
Arusha Airport
12:05pm
According to the airport scale here, I think I lost weight on this trip.
Note only I’ve been weighed, not my bags, despite the much‐discussed 15kg/33lb weight limit on the
trip.
It’s an odd transition. Had a decent enough breakfast featuring ox liver (a 1st for me) and a pancake
that’s really a thick crepe – great with table sugar.
Brought my bags 50 feet to the Land Cruiser, and Milinga thought something was wrong.
Did a drive toward the airstrip. Saw impala, a buffalo, hippos, a gray heron, a little else. Quiet morning
on the Serengeti.
The airstrip:
4 then 5 small planes that can carry about 12 people (ours had 11 + pilot, copilot)

72. A security stand.
An overhang, to sit under
A ‘big office’ with big lines for women
That’s about it.
No security for us, no bag weighing. The pilot carried our bags. Said farewell to Milinga, who wanted to
make sure we’d say good things about him.
Then crouched on the plane. We just learned that rather than one flight, we got 2. First, 55 minutes to
Arusha – choppy for 10 of the last 15, but beautiful views the whole way, including Ngorongoro.

73.
Then landed in Arusha. Waited around for someone to send our big bags the right way (we hope) and
escort us to a waiting room. He once asked for our passports, so there is some checkin process.
The Arusha greeter who served no purpose the first time came by to give me the ticket from Zanzibar to
Dar, which he wrongly insisted he gave me before, and he asked for dirt on Milinga, though we couldn’t
add much.
Got Coke Light and Coke (cold!) here, plantain chips. At another shop I bought a Kit Kat with a 5000 bill
(about $3) and she asked if I had something smaller. They really hate giving change.
Then we tossed most of our lunch boxes. Ready for round 2.
2/24
7:30pm
The flight from Arusha to Zanzibar was just as cramped but infinitely smoother. The island views were
also a treat coming in to land.

74.
We arrived at the sweltering airport, showed our Yellow Fever cards, got our bags, and soon found our
greeter and driver. From the first few moments on the road, it was clear that we’re somewhere else –
very Caribbean in the haphazard condition of buildings and tropical foliage, Arabian in dress, especially
the covered women, though some with hijabs more reminiscent of Indian saris. And then the skin color
– that rich, deep, dark brown, like the Nubians or the Moors, rather than the jet black African coloring.
Dar may well be more mixed, but outside of that it would be easy to spot the difference between a
mainland Tanzanian and a Zanzibari.
Here in Stone Town, the alleyways are dizzying. People, cars, motorbikes appear from out of nowhere.
Hawkers approach, like the man beckoning us to the Bob Marley store, but others are just friendly. A
man sitting with his friends by a doorway I photographed asked if I was a professional and got a kick that
I was snapping something so mundane.
A man served freshly cooked squid on a tray on the sidewalk by an alley.

75.
Before we got to the streets around 6, as some shops closed, we hit the hotel – Western enough with
enough local charm. Part of it was a Chinese doctor’s old house. We have a hammock on our second
story terrace overlooking the Indian Ocean.
We hit the beach, sitting on a largely empty stretch in sight of mzungus but away from anyone in
immediate reach. Every sight is charming and romantic, the kind of city romance captured by Woody
Allen when his protagonists captured photos of the eponymous setting of Vicky Christina Barcelona. I
swam a bit and we read our Kindles. A few locals came in and out of the water, as did a small fishing
boat.

76. Then we changed and hit town, hugging the sides of sidewalk‐less streets. We hit the tourist row and I
got a few souvenirs, including a t‐shirt saying Mzungu Mshamba. I asked a young Muslim woman
working there what Mshamba was and she laughed, first saying it’s someone who’s “out of fashion” and
then sincerely making sure the shirt was not a gift as she feared it would be offensive.
The woman who rang me up, barely looking 50 and seemingly Indian in a sari, said the store Memories
has been there nearly 10 years.
I asked how long she’s been on Zanzibar and said awhile, but was born here. Her grandfather uprooted
the family to Pakistan during the 1963‐4 revolution to flee persecution by Africans who were treated
“very badly” by the Arabs. Land and homes were being confiscated and there were forced marriages
with black Africans, so to spare her and her sisters, they endured a rough life in Pakistan, which she says
did her well, and now she’s back where relations are very good between the different groups. As I noted
to her, it’s amazing how history has been made so recently here and it’s so alive, not just something in
books.
In a brief exchange she made this island so much more alive for this mzungu.
Dinner soon. A band plays outdoors – Afro‐Caribbean jazz, island music, Dave Brubeck, pop. So relaxing
here in this very foreign place.
Not the jazz band – this was our dinner entertainment, which included a rendition of “Hotel California”
that had about 60% of the words right

77. 10:20pm
A fun aside:
When asking the hotel clerk which beach was good around here, he said to walk toward the next hotel
because – from a black African at our hotel – “there are too many black people” right by ours. “They
won’t leave you alone.’
Dinner: v. good seafood dinner at Terrace, outside at our hotel, in the starry, near pitch black night with
some lights of boats in the distance and dhows passing through
Cocktail: Dawa – konyagi (local gin), honey, lime
Several seafood courses – a fish carpaccio, lobster bisque, seafood platter
2/22
Serena Zanzibar
Room 22
When outside your hotel, you see a man facing a large tree turning a water tap that appears to be built
into this tree and refrain from asking any questions, you’re probably in Africa.
Breakfast: a plentiful, carb‐heavy pork‐free spread. I can have tea now that I’m not as concerned about
finding a bathroom. Beef bacon was okay, and enjoyed some local breads.
10am – met Shaban, our guide for the day. Drove out of Stone Town and Zanzibar Town, into the
‘suburban’ outlying areas and then into fully rural territory on the west coast. Schoolkids always seem to
be coming or going, as school runs a half day. Coke signs are everywhere, as they have a factory here.
The next most visible ads are for cellphones. They’re extremely common, and some have 2‐3 phones
with up to 3 different carriers (Vodafone and Tigo are the biggest).

79. Our first stop was a plantation. They have a whole tourist industry of plantations, and given the rural
nature of the island, it’s worth seeing. Mr K showed us this ‘short tour’ lasting 45 minutes where he
showed us at least a dozen plants we could barely identify at first – avocado, vanilla, turmeric, pepper,
lime/lemon, the famous clove, cinnamon, mango, coconut, ginger, lemongrass, nutmeg, etc – while
showing us the health benefits of each.
Two boy, about 9 and 13, assisted, the older climbing a tree here and there and generally helping, as
both wove us baskets and crowns out of leaves. Even if it was contrived, we got a real appreciation for
how much we don’t know about agriculture and produce, and how much more we can learn about the
benefits of natural herbs, spices, and fruit.
Annatto, a slightly peppery fruit of the achiote tree used for food coloring and even lipstick

80.
Nutmeg

81. Then it was off to Nguni (in the north). I got a Stoney ginger beer (made by Coke) and we hit the
gorgeous beach – bright blues of the Indian Ocean calling out to us, as were some hawkers and some
boys ogling the women. The water was slightly colder than at our beach, and with the dhows you could
smell diesel, so it was really no better than the beach outside our hotel, and only slightly prettier.
Then we had lunch where we were, at this backpacker hotel, and the food was surprisingly good – we
both got the seafood “fajitas” that were perfectly done. One of the best meals we’ve had in Tanzania.

82. Then a brief look at how dhows are made before heading back to the room. (Oh, we also saw some
underwhelming, poorly maintained Portuguese ruins.)
A lot of the fun came from Shaban’s insights and explanations:
‐ He’s been leaving here since before the ’64 revolution – well before. His father was born here
and his grandfather came here from the mainland.
‐ The most tourists come from Italy since they were the first to offer flights when tourism got
going in the 80s. The Italians run several hotels, tour companies, and other businesses.
‐ Italians still aren’t loved here. They’re way too loud, and they walk around naked (presumably
on the beach) or in skimpy swimsuits (the men).
‐ The richest Italians here are mafia and profit from racketeering.
‐ The British think everything’s too expensive but otherwise aren’t too bad.
‐ The Germans are so‐so.
‐ The French are generally pretty miserable. We have yet to meet a guide who likes the French,
and this was the closest one came to saying anything nice about Germans.

83. ‐ The new up and comers are the Russians.
‐ Americans are generally liked. We tip well because we understand the plight of poor people (go
us!)
‐ The most drab area around Stone Town – really, depressingly drab – includes blocks of prison‐
style cement buildings. Guess who built them? The East Germans, in the 70s. SO fitting. People
like them though, as they replaced ramshackle hovels, so without the East Germans it could all
be a giant slum.
Why live it up with naked Italian racketeers when you can enjoy this luxurious East German housing?
We talked a lot more – politics, religion, economy, healthcare, education, etc. They don’t have a movie
theater on the whole island. They do have paved roads though, and a very comfy van with AC. Shaban
was great – highly recommended.
Oh, another highlight from Shaban:
There’s a visible Rastafarian subculture here that’s really all about people’s love for Bob Marley. They’re
not really Rasta – they just have the dreds and knit hats and Marley t‐shirts. Apparently a few mzungu
women have fallen in love with them and married them, taking them back home. It can’t be many, but

84. it’s enough for people to have taken notice. And next to the Japanese couple with their doll, it may be
the weirdest thing we encountered on the trip. I mean, I’d LOVE to see a documentary on them, or read
a book. This is one of the world’s great and presumably untold stories.
[There are some reports on Rasta culture there. See http://www.mambomagazine.com/nutshell‐
guides/arts‐and‐culture/roots‐rasta‐culture .]
Back to the day:
Unwound in the room, read some of my book (Shadow of the Sun) on the hammock.
Went out after 6.
Tried an ATM. One had a Windows error and the other wouldn’t give me cash. So much for 24 hrs. Went
to Forodhani Gardens – a big outdoor cookoff of street food with lots of locals and mzungus and stray
cats. Each stand – there were dozens – had one of a few kinds of food:
‐ Sugar cane juice (love it!) – freshly pressed
‐ Zanzibar pizza with chocolate and bananas

85. ‐ A spread of tons of seafood and meats, much in kebab form – and each spread was the same as
every other (bafflingly dumb)
Went to Silk Route for Indian food. Pretty good Indian, with pretty poor service. The menu listed 5
specialty cocktails but didn’t say what was in most of them. Descriptions were cut off. I asked the server
what was in a Kamasutra. She had no idea. I asked her what was her favorite. She said the Kamasutra.

86. Amazed, I ordered one. A different guy brought it – a fruity, orange and red, sunset‐like drink in one
glass resting on a second glass full of a green fluid resembling absinthe. I asked what was in it. He had no
idea. Then he thought to tell me – he wouldn’t have volunteered it – that the green was just decoration.
If I drank it, I might have been experiencing Zanzibari healthcare right now, which I’m sure is 24 hours
like the ATM. Papadam and mixed appetizer platter were good, though my chicken tikka was
overseasoned and the garlic naan a little off.
Walked back, and here we are.
2/26
7:30pm
Serena Zanzibar
AFRICA HOT
Rose too early – 7am, but after 7‐8 hrs sleep, as much as I’ve had here, without the haunting dreams I’ve
had from reading about Africa. It got no worse than after reading the novel of Rwanda – “Murumbi” –
where I dreamt of the impending deaths of many loved ones, C included. I look forward to taking a
break.
Read in the hammock and relaxed awhile.
Breakfast – another ample spread, carb‐heavy as usual, with the sesame bread especially delicious (not
C’s thing, as she prefers chocolate croissants).
10am – met Choom(?) – our guide for the walking tour of Stone Town, which often was R‐rated, or PG‐
13. We learned about how horny Muslim men satisfy themselves with multiple wives, Muslim women’s
marriage preparations to satisfy husbands, more on nutmeg as female Viagra, and how poor people
have had tall beds to keep their kids under and shield them from what mommy and daddy do on top.

87. The real highlight, however, was learning about Italians. He said Zanzibaris like them for spending
money here, but he added new color to Shaban’s story.
He said they originally traveled to Mombasa, Kenya where their leisure activity included shooting “sex
movies.” After awhile, Kenyans got word of this and murdered some Italian filmmakers. The artists
escaped to Zanzibar, where they were welcomed as hoteliers but not as cinematographers and had to
put an end to their hobby, so they simply did it in secret, while in public irking the locals by not wearing
any clothes (again, I’m assuming this was on the beach, but neither Shaban nor Choom was explicit
about that). The Italians, loud as ever, made other enemies here, including the British, who have a habit
of checking out of any hotel where they discover Italians are staying. Maybe the Italians will fare better
with the emerging populations of Russian and Chinese tourists, but I tend to think they’ll find new ways
of tormenting the island’s future guests.
The one bright spot about Italians today: there were no allegations about their mob ties.
(Oh, it gets worse – a search on Google here reveals allegations of Italians using Kenyan children for
sexual tourism. If true, the problems are far bigger than private or public nudity.)
Stone Town is amazing. Every door tells a story, usually literally.
Chain carvings show the home of a slave trader, certain carvings indicate wealth, animals show royalty,
certain plants denote spice traders, scales denote fish merchants.
Slave traders lived here – note the chains along the frame’s border

89.
Buildings like Africa House and the House of Wonder brought to life much of what we read so far.
Since the whole town – 16,000 residents, but 200,000 daily people working or passing through – is a
World Heritage Site, very little can change. To that point, even modern buildings look like they’ve been
around a long time, while nicer structures like our hotel and Beyt Al Chai across the street blend in
seamlessly. While other parts of the island like the north could resemble an overdeveloped Caribbean
island, Stone Town probably won’t, any more than Jerusalem’s Old City would (C first made the
comparison).
Also notable: no chains are here at all. No McD’s, KFC, Starbucks. There are no movie posters for the
latest Disney flick – as there’s no movie theater. There are few Western brands, Coke being the biggest,
topping only Obama who is emblazoned in tribute in graffiti by our hotel and in apparel in side street
shops. (The Clintons are fondly remembered too – Bill toured here discussing democracy and AIDS a few
years back.)

90.
We caught signs of the East African slave trade too, at the side of the Anglican church that still has its old
slave holds. There’s no way to adequately describe the cruelty and barbarity, but it was meaningful to
get a taste of what injustices occurred on this island a hundred years and change before we got here.

91.
Fish anyone?

92.
After finishing the tour, our guide directed us to Mercury’s, a happening seaside restaurant and bar
capitalizing on the name of perhaps the most famous person born here, Freddie Mercury. As a gay ex‐
pat who died of AIDS, he doesn’t get too much billing on the conservative Muslim island.
Lunch was pretty good – had some pizza, perhaps inspired by naughty Italians, perhaps because it’s
popular here and especially at Mercury’s, and perhaps because we’re getting ready to transition back

93. home. Not perfect. Most food here can benefit from a dash of salt, and it’s funny on this Spice Island
that food tends to be underseasoned. A little more Indian influence wouldn’t hurt.
We then went walking – first to the ATM, which did have cash, though only one ATM worked, a different
one from what which worked yesterday.
And then, a very long, circuitous route to find a store we liked selling Zanzibar chests. It took hours. We
were already dripping from before, experiencing one of those kinds of heat that doesn’t so much
register on a thermometer so much as it does in the way by which walking through the tone alleyways
feels like you’re getting cooked alive. While I know of no cannibals nor carnivorous predators here, I
envisioned myself as an entrée on a menu. Would my hat have helped? Anything? No idea. I avoided
close encounters with predators on safari, medicated against scourges from malaria to Yellow Fever,
and haven’t needed any Pepto or Immodium, let alone more powerful drugs like Cipro, but the heat –
that Zanzibari, dead of summer heat that laughs at you in the alleys for avoiding the pleasant breeze
along the seaside promenade – finally knocked me out.
I was out cold. I tried meds, a cold compress, a cold shower, Ayurvedic breathing exercises from eHow,
and nothing relieved the invisible clamp crushing my head. Only against the tormenter’s will, in darkness
and silence, did I get the 45 minutes of sleep that freed me. Hours later, the headache’s gone but its
memory lingers, a reminder that it could attack again.

94. Dinner: Beyt Al Chai, a very quiet restaurant in a boutique hotel across Kilele Square, close enough to
the mosque that we could hear an evening call to prayer (50 mosques here, 2 churches, 4 Hindu
temples). The bruschetta was bold (feta, caramelized tomatoes, bread) and delicious, and I had the
enjoyable but not unforgettable grouper wrapped with bacon. C checked if the fish came from the
market, given we saw the market today with all the fish teeming with flies, the way it must have looked
back when people thought meat bred maggots. We avoided the chicken execution. When our guide had
said, “There are two kinds of chickens,” I half‐jokingly told C, “Live and dead,” and that’s exactly what he
said.
You only get SO much choice here. After enjoying my Tusker with dinner, I asked for “chai” and sought
to understand the few offerings on the menu. “There are only two options” – said the server non‐
ironically – “spice tea with or without milk.”
My milk option, in a kind of samovar, was better than the vanilla ice cream. There’s no way the ice
cream was Italian. They may be loud, naked, child traffickers, but they’d never tolerate such a dessert.
For that, one option – vanilla, and payment – only Visa, or cash. The payment options are always a
surprise here – no sign on door or note on menu, most of the time (save for Silk Route). Maybe that will
appear in the next generation of door carvings here, if UNESCO lets them get away with it.
2/27
Karume Airport – Dolphin Lounge
Zanzibar
2pm
Here in the slightly cooler than outdoor “luxury” restaurant in Zanzibar’s airport. We were running late
today checking out – a “Hakuna Matata” to manager Kennedy made it possible. But we’re early – an
hour early. So our driver, who knew nothing about our flight, reintroduced us to Jackson, who didn’t
know who we were, as we approached someone at the ZanAir counter, who said we’re a full hour too
early. So we’ll wait here, the only ones in this blue‐tableclothed lounge that seats 40. A Krest soda water
for C, a Stoney Tangawizi ginger beer for me.

95.
This morning: up too early again, more from a lot of sunlight, after being up too late reading.
Had a good breakfast – perhaps our best yet since Djuma. Indian bread, sesame bread, fish, octopus,
passion fruit juice, plantains, pears, pancake‐bread. Could have gorged more but took it easy. Lounged
and read poolside, then swam a bit to cool off – felt good. Packed, listening to Queen’s Night at the
Opera, a farewell tribute to Freddie.
Said farewell to concierge Fauz(?) and checked out.
Walked to Archipelago, a popular spot, and had a pretty good lunch of passion fruit juice, and kingfish
with plantains East African style. Went to the ATM. The left was out of order today, the right out of cash.
Ahh, Africa.
A little non‐shopping, then sought somewhere cool at Serena only to hear our driver was early. And here
we are, 40 minutes until check‐in, and I’m on Stoney #2 (today).

96. 7:10pm
Lobby of a Hotel whose name is changed to protect the staff working there
WABENZI
Finally, we got to do some old‐fashioned, palm to palm, backdoor dealing. Everywhere we read about
the briery economy here, and it’s about time we get to take it underground.
First things first…
We took the 20 minute 17‐seater to Dar. When one passenger feared there wasn’t a seat, the pilot said,
“If there’s not, you can take mine.” We got our bottled water, though no blue mints, on a plane where
we never showed ID and our boarding passes had no name on them.
The view of Zanzibar made me sad to leave it – such a beautiful, captivating island.
And we were off. Bumpy at times with no A/C, we were glad it landed. Air con remains tentative, as it
has all trip.
And then we met our new driver.
It was hard to tell what to make of him at first. We started off with a request: take a driving tour of Dar.
He requested to be taken care of, and of course we agreed. We didn’t name a price, but I’d imagine
100,000TS will do (~$65).
Ridin’ old school in Dar

97. Once he got going though, he laughed at EVERYTHING – when I said we were Jewish (he’s black
Lutheran), when C asked about Italians (he doesn’t like them – and his only comment on the French was
that they’re better than Italians; Chinese and Indians tie for second least favorite, while Germans and
Russians are okay but serious and rigid – guides have this wonderful body language, similar all around
the world, to show what they think of Germans – straight face, tight and squared shoulders). He laughed
when we used any of our nominal Swahili words.
And then came his biggest laugh of all. C asked if he’s married, and he said he’s engaged. So finally
getting a handle on how things work around here, I asked a question I never asked anyone before,
keeping a straight face all the while:
“How many cows did you pay for her?”
He lit up, kept on laughing, and reached back to give me some kind of cross between a high five and a
handshake. It was beautiful.
“Who told you that?” he asked.
Score one for the mzungu. For me, it felt like acing the Africa finals. I’ve read it, I’ve toured it, and now
I’m part of it.

98. (8:30)
We toured all around – waterfront, embassies, quick shops at markets al selling the same stuff 9if you
see giraffe paintings, just run). The driver made up for a city you can confidently see without leaving
your car, or even rolling down the window.
Then we got to Hotel Dar, sweaty as we’ve been, which doesn’t bode well for.. oh… 40 hours of travel.
We mentioned the thought of getting a room by the hour to the greeter out front and he had a plan B.
He’d call his friend at the pool, we’d grease a couple palms, and we’d get access to the locker rooms,
which happen to be nicer than just about any I’ve seen.
30,000 TS went to the locker room guy (who had another ‘client’ come in after me), I’ve got 20,000 TS
for the guy out front (George), and we’re now refreshed and a bit more ready for 2 long flights and a
half day romp through Amsterdam.
Dinner was fine – sweet potato soup, a butter curry version of a chicken tikka masala (D) and pizza (C).
Enjoyed another Stoney Tangawizi and Kilimanjaro beer.
[And that ends the Africa journal. Normally these journals have some parting thoughts that tie it all
together. There was nothing like that here – no final memories, no lessons. A few pages on Amsterdam

99. follow, but they’re entirely disconnected. It mentions Africa just once: “As of midnight, we were in the
erstwhile capital of East Africa’s most stable nation. We did breakfast in one of the crown jewels of
Europe, along with lunch, and dessert…” Perhaps even that’s fitting in its own right – no tidy conclusions
are deep reflections, but an abrupt end to a story about bribing hotel staff for a shower followed by
details of a menu. It ends without ending, perhaps anticipating some kind of grand finale that never got
written. It’s the challenge with travel too, as you’re too busy doing it to properly capture it all or reflect
on what happened. The real impact of a trip often isn’t known for years later. I’m grateful for every
minute of the journey though, and I’m indebted to all those who made the trip as meaningful as it was,
even if the meaning will reveal itself in time.]
The End.

100. Appendix: 28 Books for Your Africa Reading List
‐ Safaris, Politics, Culture, History, and More
In February, I traveled through South Africa and Tanzania, taking part in a few safaris while
exploring Cape Town and unwinding in Zanzibar. Along the way I also spent a night in Nairobi,
Kenya and got a brief tour of Dar es Salaam, Tanzania. To prepare for the trip and expand my
horizons while away, I read about 30 books on Africa. As I've done before with reading lists for
Egypt and South America, your reading list for Africa is below, this time with 28 reviews and
recommendations. Feel free to share other recommendations in the comments.
I need to thank two sources in particular that helped with this list. One is Amazon, from its
references to the Kindle. With the flights to Zanzibar I could only take 33 lbs of luggage for a
17-day trip through varying climates, and the Kindle made reading so many books possible.
Highlighted passages below all come from Kindle versions. The other is Idlewild Books, a
Manhattan bookstore specializing in international books, and I picked up at least 10 books there
from this selection alone; most weren’t available on the Kindle, and the staff there is extremely
sharp.

101. South Africa
Long Walk to Freedom by Nelson Mandela
If you only read one book about Africa, this is it. Mandela's the hero, the change agent, the
revolutionary, the larger than life inspiring figure you want him to be. The only thing more
incredible than his autobiography is that when reading anything else about Africa, Mandela
remains unblemished. This is also a book that anyone interested in leadership needs to read.
Highlight:Of so many great quotes from Mandela, here's one that stands out: "Education is the
great engine of personal development. It is through education that the daughter of a peasant can
become a doctor, that the son of a mineworker can become the head of the mine, that a child of
farmworkers can become the president of a great nation. It is what we make out of what we have,
not what we are given, that separates one person from another."
Country of My Skull by Antjie Krog
This one will rank up there in terms of books that keep you up at night. Krog covers the Truth
and Reconilliation Commission hearings in South Africa in the 1990s, and you feel the torture
Krog endures by hearing and relaying the horrors and atrocities that happened in her country.
Highlight: We all want to resign. We all yearn for another life. At Tzaneen a young Tswana
interpreter is interviewed. He holds on to the tabletop; his other hand moves restlessly in his lap.
“It is difficult to interpret victim hearings,” he says, “because you use the first person all the
time. I have no distance when I say ‘I’ . . . it runs through me with ‘I.’ ” “Now how do you
survive it?” “I don’t. After the first three months of hearings, my wife and baby left me because
of my violent outbursts. The Truth Commission provided counseling and I was advised to stop.
But I don’t want to. This is my history, and I want to be part of it—until the end.
Cry, the Beloved Country by Alan Paton
This is one of those books that I felt so privileged to read. If I hadn't gone on this trip I might
never have found it, and it's undoubtedly one of the world's great works of poetry.What makes it
chilling is that it was written right before the advent of apartheid, so it's this snapshot of South
Africa before the country spirals even further downhill.
Highlight: We do not know, we do not know. We shall live from day to day, and put more locks
on the doors, and get a fine fierce dog when the fine fierce bitch next door has pups, and hold on
to our handbags more tenaciously; and the beauty of the trees by night, and the raptures of lovers
under the stars, these things we shall forego. We shall forego the coming home drunken through
the midnight streets, and the evening walk over the star-lit veld. We shall be careful, and knock
this off our lives, and knock that off our lives, and hedge ourselves about with safety and

102. precaution. And our lives will shrink, but they shall be the lives of superior beings; and we shall
live with fear, but at least it will not be a fear of the unknown. And the conscience shall be thrust
down; the light of life shall not be extinguished, but be put under a bushel, to be preserved for a
generation that will live by it again, in some day not yet come; and how it will come, and when it
will come, we shall not think about at all.
Disgrace by J.M. Coetzee
All you really need to know about this one is that it's like reading a Philip Roth novel set in
South Africa. It's about a professor who can't control his prick (a term Roth would use, so it fits)
and whose attempts at escaping his problems only cause more misery. It's less about South
Africa than human nature, but that's also part of the fun of it - reading a book that's not a history
lesson.
Favorite African Folktales edited by Nelson Mandela
You can often learn a lot about a country from its folktales, and the scope here is far wider than a
country. It's a fun mix, but nothing here is as striking or well written as Kalila and Dimna from
the Egypt roundup. If you're at all interested in folklore, go with Kalila - and if you're not, you
might be after reading it.
The Pickup by Nadine Gordimer
This is an odd book by one of South Africa's best known writers. Here, Julie falls for a Muslim
mechanic and leaves her Sex and the City set for a life of Islam, Arabie, and destitution. While
it's an interesting story at times, I never really got why Julie was acting the way she was - it
seemed a little forced at most major junctures.
Zanzibar
Revolution in Zanzibar: An American's Cold War Tale by Donald Petterson
If you go to Zanzibar, or if you love Cold War history, you have to read this. You meet divinely
inspired coup leaders, womanizing ambassadors, and world leaders as Petterson shares his first-
hand experience from serving in the American consulate on Zanzibar during these revolutinoary
days.
The Sultan's Shadow by Christiane Bird
Zanzibar's a surprising, even magical island, albeit with quite a few dark spots in its history. It
was the capital of East Africa's slave trade, which picked up once the scion of an Omani dynasty
discovered the riches from the islad's spice plantations, and slaves were needed to supply the

103. island. The most ambitious of the island's sultans had a daughter who was quite the renegade, as
running off with German men wasn't exactly de rigeur at the time for an Omani Zanzibari
princess. Along with following the sultan and princess, we meet infamous black African slave
trader Tippu Tip, British Christian anti-slavery crusader David Livingstone, and other leading
figures of the day. While the narrative is all over the place, as a reader I felt enriched by having it
cover so many angles.
Paradise by Abdulrazak Gurnah
While the book isn't set in Zanzibar, the author hails from there. Though you won't see this in the
Amazon description, the story is remarkably similar to the biblical story of Joseph. The
protagonist is even named Yusuf, and he's similar to his namesake in appearance and can
interpret dreams. His father sells him into bondage (instead of Joseph's brothers - but really, it's
the same plot line), and you know you can expect trouble when you meet the woman who
resembles Potiphar's wife.
General History: Colonial Period (starting around 16th/17th centuries) until Independence
(around 1950s-60s)
King Leopold's Ghost by Adam Hochschild
Belgium's King Leopold II is one of the world's least known genocidists, a mass murderer few
can compare to, and one few heard of before Hochshild's best-seller. Edwin Morel, the hero of
the book, was a British shipping executive who noticed a disparity in some records that led to a
global anti-slavery crusade. Horrifying through and through, Hochshild is such a great storyteller
that perhaps it's a little too much of a page-turner.
Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad
I hadn't read this until this trip, and by the time I did, I had read so much about it that the novel
itself was anticlimactic. Real life villains like King Leopold II are far scarier than anything in
here. While the story itself's essential reading, I'm more impressed by what Conrad did and
inspired than the work itself.
Exterminate All the Brutes by Sven Lindqvist
Lindqvist journeys into Africa to explroe the meaning of the Heart of Darkness phrase,
"Exterminate all the brutes." Where did that ideology originate, to treat people as animals or
lesser evolved humans? How did it influence Hitler, and why do we focus on the Holocaust
while ignoring other mass killings? There aren't easy answers but it's a thouhtful thought
experiment.

104. First Footsteps in East Africa by Sir Richard Burton
Sir Burton is clearly an outsized personality. Often, he's intoerably bigoted, putting down anyone
and any tribe he meets with as he shares his theories of civilization. And yet, he has his
moments, such as his understanding the dangers of pitting one tribe against another - this kind of
action caused irreperable harm as the colonial powers left africa. It's great to have access to this
work, but tough to swallow.
Highlight (well, more of a typical passage - hardly a highlight): The natives of the country are
essentially commercial: they have lapsed into barbarism by reason of their political condition--
the rude equality of the Hottentots,--but they appear to contain material for a moral regeneration.
As subjects they offer a favourable contrast to their kindred, the Arabs of El Yemen, a race
untameable as the wolf, and which, subjugated in turn by Abyssinian, Persian, Egyptian, and
Turk, has ever preserved an indomitable spirit of freedom, and eventually succeeded in skaking
off the yoke of foreign dominion
Diamonds, Gold, and War: The British, the Boers, and the Making of South Africa by Martin
Meredith
While well reviewed, this book of the Dutch history of South Africa was a bit of a slog for me.
The basic history is important, and I enjoyed the character sketch of Cecil Rhodes, among others,
but perhaps I was a little historied out by the time I read this.
Modern Politics (post-colonial area, focused generally on 1950s-present)
The Fate of Africa: A History of 50 Years of Independence by Martin Meredith
This was the first sweeping work I read about Africa's modern history. You read the same story
in country after country: Colonizing power props up a seemingly non-threatening but charismatic
lackey; colonizing power makes a hasty exit before there are even a few hundred black Africans
in the entire country with college degrees; former lackey pillages the country for his personal
gain while playing Cold War rivals against each other to gain global standing; some kind of civil
war, coup, and/or genocide ensues. A few break that pattern, usually with an educated leader
who takes their responsibility more seriously (see Ghana, Botswana, Tanzania, and ultimately
Mandela in South Africa) but not always successfully (Tanzania's Nyerere, for instance, took his
socialist ideals too far, but at least he was one of few leaders to step down voluntarily when the
economy crashed). This was the first such sweeping tome I read on Africa's modern history, and
it was confusing to no end, but after a few such works I got the hang of it and can even put a few
of these countries on a map. Yay.

105. Highlight: By the end of the 1980s, not a single African head of state in three decades had
allowed himself to be voted out of office. Of some 150 heads of state who had trodden the
African stage, only six had voluntarily relinquished power.
The Challenge for Africa by Wangari Maathai
An incredible Kenyan woman who has served her country and continent in goverment, on
foundations and through her writing, Maathai ultimately focuses on the Millennium
Development Goals for Africa and why they won't be met by 2015. Especially powerful is when
this 'green party' hero focuses on the environment and she makes a case for the positive ripple
effects that stem from sustainability.
Highlight: Before the arrival of the Europeans, Mount Kenya was called Kirinyaga, or “Place of
Brightness,” by the people who lived in its shadow. The Kikuyus believed that God dwelled on
the mountain, and that the rains, clean drinking water, green vegetation, and crops, all of which
had a central place in their lives, flowed from it. When Christian missionaries arrived in the area
toward the end of the nineteenth century, they told the local people that God did not live on
Mount Kenya, but rather in heaven, and that the mountain and its forests, previously considered
sacred grounds, could be encroached upon and the reverence accorded to them abandoned. The
people believed this and were persuaded to consider their relationship with the mountain and,
indeed, nature itself as primitive, worthless, and an obstacle to development and progress in an
age of modernity and advances in science and technology. This did not happen only, of course,
to the people who lived around Mount Kenya. Over the next generations, the reverence and spirit
that had led the communities to preserve specific species of tree, like the wild fig, and the forests
on Mount Kenya died away. When the white settlers and then the local communities themselves
cut down the trees to plant coffee and tea and other agricultural products, encroaching farther and
farther up the mountain, there was little resistance. From then on, they were seen as commodities
only, to be privatized and exploited.
Africa: Altered States, Ordinary Miracles by Richard Dowden
As great as this book is - the writer is a gifted wordsmith while focusing on many of the salient
stories and perspectives that make this modern history lesson so memorable - I wish there were a
few more ordinary miracles. As in so many of Africa's histories, they proved hard to find here.
Highlight: As John Robertson, a Zimbabwean economist, says, `We imagine corruption to be
like a tick on a dog. There are some places in Africa where the tick is bigger than the dog.'
Highlight 2: Shakespeare would have found it easier to talk with modern Africans than modern
Europeans and Americans who have no sense of anything beyond the physical realities of
Western urban culture. Africans understand Shakespeare's woodland inhabited by sprites and
fairies or by ghosts of dead fathers and other mystical apparitions. Living in harmony with the
other world is important.
China Safari by Sege Michel Michel Beuret
This was the first book I read in this crash course on Africa, and it's one of the best. It shows the
complicated nature of the Chinese helping to build Africa while not letting morals get in the way
of business decisions.

106. Highlight (proverbs):
China: "When a tree is moved, it dies. When a man movies, he can make a fortune."
Mali: "If you see a goat at the mouth of the lion's den, fear the goat."
Memoirs
When a Crocodile Eats the Sun by Peter Godwin
Beautifully told, a reporter reminisces about his life primarily in Zimbabwe, where his parents
survive endless diffuclties while staying attached to their country. There's also a memorable
subplot, not to be disclosed here, as Godwin discovers the truth about his own heritage.
Highlight: I feel like weeping. Weeping at the way Africa does this to you. Just as you’re about
to dismiss it and walk away, it delivers something so unexpected, so tender. One minute you’re
scared shitless, the next you’re choked with affection.
Highlight 2 (because I love folkore, and hippos): Of all the theories for the hippo’s antisocial
behavior, my favorite is the one offered by the San, the Bushmen with whom I have recently
spent so much time for National Geographic. They believe that the hippo was the last animal to
be created and was made of parts left over from the construction of other beasts. When the hippo
saw its reflection in the water, it was so ashamed of its ugliness that it begged the creator —
Kaggan — to allow it to live underwater, out of sight. But Kaggan refused, worried that the
hippo would eat up all the fish with its huge mouth. The hippo promised that it wouldn’t eat any
living thing from the water, and Kaggan relented. A deal was struck that the hippo must return
each night to the land to eat and to shit so that the other animals could examine its dung to ensure
that there were no fish bones in it. The regular humiliation of public fecal inspection could well
account for the hippo’s irascibility.
The Zanzibar Chest by Aidan Hartley
This is two memoirs in one. Half of the book has Hartley recounting the story of his Scottish
father who 'went native' in Arabia and then East Africa, where he came to feel at home. It's
intertwined with the author's autobiography of surviving as a journalist in some of the most
hellish, war-torn conflicts.
Whatever You Do, Don't Run - True Tales of a Botswana Safari Guide by Peter Allison
It's not saying much to call this the funniest book I read about Africa, and one of the least
depressing. If I got any nightmares reading about this, then they were about Japanese tourists.
While the book starts off rough, fortunately Allison matures just enough with his experience as a
guide to strengthen the narrative while sharpening the humor.

107. Highlight: Honey badgers belong to a group of only four animals that lions tend to avoid. The
other three members are elephants, rhinoceroses, and hippos.
African Fiction (general)
Gods and Soldiers: The Penguin Anthology of Contemporary African Writing by Rob Spillman
This is a useful guide to modern African writers. I bought a few of the books in this roundup
after reading excerpts here, including Minaret and Half a Yellow Sun. I guess the con of the book
is also a pro - a lot of the works were underwhelming, but that also meant I didn't have to read
more from every writer in here.
Highlight (from an introduction to the section on Mozambique and Angola, by the former's Mia
Couto): I am a biologist and I travel a lot through my country’s savanna. In these regions, I meet
people who don’t know how to read books. But they know how to read their world. In such a
universe where other wisdoms prevail, I am the one who is illiterate. I don’t know how to read
the signs in the soil, the trees, the animals. I can’t read clouds and the likelihood of rain. I don’t
know how to talk to the dead, I’ve lost all contact with ancestors who give us our sense of the
eternal. In these visits to the savanna, I learn sensitivities that help me to come out of myself and
remove me from my certainties. In this type of territory, I don’t just have dreams. I am
dreamable.
Petals of Blood by Ngugi Wa Thiong'o
A teacher, a socialist, and a prostitute walk into Abdullah's bar - no, not the beginning of a joke,
but the setting for the Kenyan novelist's dark story about a fictional town that becomes a city, but
with many sacrifices. We meet everyone from local robber barrons to colonialist missionaries. It
picks up the pace considerably as it progresses. While I wound up loving this, I couldn't get into
Thiong'o's other seminal work WIzard of the Crow, though if you read its reviews you'll see I'm
in the minority
The Gunny Sack by MG Vassanji
Dubbed "Africa's answer to Midnight's Children, it's a fantastic romp through a couple family
histories spannign India, Zanzibar, Eastern Africa, and a bit of teh west. And times it's too
similar to Rushdie's work, and it lost me, but it's often lyrical and playful. While I enjoyed it, it
wasn't as memorable for me as most of the others.
Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe
This was, I'm embarrassed to admit, the only book from this list I read before planning the Africa
trip, thanks to my Mamaroneck High School teacher Shannon Turner-Porter (if you're Googling