East Africa is a different world. Without realizing what was happening we crossed out of Anglo-influenced, often primitive Southern Africa into the Arab/Muslim influenced and developed East Africa. The change is striking.

The long journey from South to East began in the back of an tiny overloaded and poorly driven pickup in beautiful Nhkata Bay on Lake Malawi. We were reminded that Malawi has the highest highway death rate in the world twice that day. Once as the pickup sailed perilously down the narrow road, and again later as our minibus passed the scene of a bus crash.

"It was like no other accident site site I'd ever seen."
A large, well-worn bus had careened off the road and over a hill, plunging probably thirty feet and landing on its side. It was like no other accident site site I'd ever seen. The crash had happened probably an hour earlier. If this had occurred at home the road would have been covered in ambulances and fire trucks with maybe a medical helicopter or two sitting a field nearby. There was nothing.

While no one I saw seemed fatally injured, people were strewn all over the bus and surrounding area. Some laying injured. Some stunned. Some rolling their belongings back up the hill to catch the next bus. No help had arrived. Probably none was coming. Our bus slowed but did not stop.

"He told us we'd have to hurry."
On the bus we met Ally, a Tanzanian businessman on the last leg of four days of continuous travel. He was headed home to Dar es Salaam and was nervous. Like us, Ally wanted to cross the border into Tanzania that night but knew we might not make it before closing time. He told us we'd have to hurry.

We arrived at the border with minutes to spare. Stamping out of Malawi, we ran with packs bouncing, dodging the money changers and border hoodlums, the 500 yards through the dark to the Tanzanian side. The immigration office was closed, locked and dark.

"Ally took off running."
Ally looked dejected but began quizzing some of the hangers around in Swahili.

Vendors Swarm a Tanzania Bus

Things were not looking good till somebody came around a corner, shouted something and Ally took off running. Not wanting to be stuck in the dark without our friend, Jenny, Matt and I ran after him. Turns out we were chasing the border official who was on his way home.

He looked surprised and weary but not at all angry that we were pleading with him to come back and let us into his country. After some kind Swahili words from Ally, he told us to come back to the office. We were standing on a dark road in a country we weren't supposed to have entered, dragging an immigration official back to the office. But it worked.

"What a different situation we found."
He stamped us into Tanzania and waited patiently as his helper filled out our visas and we changed money. It was amazing. I'd heard a story of a friend who encountered rife corruption entering this country. A border official wanted to overcharge him for a visa, add another charge and kept him in the office for hours. What a different situation we found. This guy put off his supper, re-opened his office and even seemed to feel so bad about charging us $50 for visas that he showed us in the book where it says he must. He even had us change money, which I think is illegal, in his office so we wouldn't be hassled on the street. We even later verified he had given us a good exchange rate. A warm welcome to Tanzania.

A night in a border bus station roadhouse and we were off the next morning on a luxury bus to Dar es Salaam. Luxury is a relative term in these parts, but it was leagues better than anything we've seen in months. This bus did, however, nearly become airborne several times. We did about 70 miles per hour most of the way... over Tanzania's terrible roads. We were bounced and shaken till we were sore and a little sick.

"They're machines."
I know little yet about Tanzanians, but I learned one thing on the bus. They are very fast drivers, eaters and pee-ers. In the 12 hour journey, we took only two pee breaks. Remember when Mom and Dad would pull the car over and you'd go in the bushes. Imagine that with 55 people on a bus. We did it in ten minutes. They're machines. Lunch at a roadside stand took fifteen.

We arrived in Dar es Saalam after dark. You're not supposed to do that, according to one guidebook, but what can ya do? And we had Ally to help us out. With the usual hassle and stress we got a taxi to a hotel and collapsed. We could tell we'd arrived somewhere very different from where we'd left. An electrically amplified prayer was being sung somewhere outside our window.

"We've definitely entered the East."
Morning brought confirmation that our trip had changed. Everywhere I'd been so far was influenced by western society. We've definitely entered the East. They don't call it East Africa for nothing.

I don't know the words for a lot of the stuff I see on the street and don't wanna look dumb... but I guess it's long too late for that. Men in the long, white gowns of Islam walk the streets. Women in hejab scurry along, holding the scarves around their heads. Eastern-sounding music and languages surround you. It's my first immersion in the Islamic world and will take adjusting, but I think I like it.