The main reason we went to Tabora in western Tanzania is to catch the train there to Dar es Salaam on the east coast. We didn’t have tickets yet, as you can’t book remotely. If they were sold out at the station, we were up shit creek without a paddle.
See, the train only runs 3 days a week and it’s an overnight journey. To keep to our schedule we’d have no choice but to take an extremely long, uncomfortable and boring bus across the country. So we set our alarms for dawn and skipped breakfast.
Walking in the direction of train horns and hisses, we finally found what we figured was probably the station.
We found the ticket counter by following the extant, helpful signs.
The sleeper ticket windows weren’t open for another 30 minutes. Thankfully there were a bunch of decrepit train cars and engines and no guards or fences!
Lots of the cars were heavily damaged or deteriorated, and most were open. Of course I climbed into a few.
Heading back to the ticket window, we found a friendly and helpful gentleman who cheerfully told us that all 1st and 2nd class sleeper tickets were sold out for the next train. He could however sell us a 3rd class seat!
Dave and I conferred, making our peace with the equally unappealing options of a seat overnight on a slow train or a seat on a bus that would get there in one very long day.
We came to a conclusion that I have long since forgotten because after a few minutes the gentleman called us over and informed us that in fact he could sell us two 2nd class sleeper tickets!
Ecstatic at our luck, we began our preparations. Knowing that these really old (1950s?) sleeper cars rarely come with any bedding, we set out to buy sheets. The sisters who run our hotel came to the rescue: their mother came over and took Dave and me into the street to buy secondhand bed sheets.
After a bunch of turns past a dizzying number of stalls, we arrived at the sheet merchant. She explained our needs and he showed us his wares.
Top and bottom sheets in hand, we returned to the hotel to finish our packing. The lovely sisters even washed the sheets for us. Everything done that could be, we went to sleep.
Our taxi driver arrived at 0545 and drove us to the station, charging us twice the fair rate because we’d forgotten to confirm the price before we left. But we were so happy to catch the train we shrugged it off and set out to find our car. We walked the whole length of the train before we found it. There were two guys in our 6-bed couchette, but apparently they were just squatting because they left after a few minutes. We’d made it! We were in our couchette, unpacked and ready for a long ride through a very pretty country.
The journey was lovely, even through dry grass and dusty towns.
The train car itself was not in very good shape. The side embarkation door didn’t latch shut, and constantly swung open providing an easy route to a grisly end.
Outside, it was sunny and warm though not terribly scenic yet.
At one of our very occasional stops, a big pop-up market had assembled to meet us.
We hopped off to find some lunch. The smell of roasting meat drew us to a vendor selling all manner of kebabs.
We picked a few out that looked more well-done than others, hoping to avoid catching a gut bug. They turned out to be liver. I’ve now eaten some of a filter organ from a temporary outdoor market in rural Africa.
Our car and room had some interesting tales to tell, it seemed. The glass in our door was shattered. The glass in the window across from it was also shattered. And they both had a bullet-sized hole in them, located as if someone fired from the ground outside upwards into the window.
The floor of the train was apparently concrete. You can tell because in some areas it’s broken through and you can see the track below.
We made our way to the lounge car to play some cards. It was as dilapidated as the others, but not obviously unsafe.
A young local lady named Nicole saw us playing a charming card game called Shithead and asked to join us, so we taught her the rules and carried on all afternoon and evening.
Finally time for bed! I climbed in to bed between my chosen sheets, specially selected to match my experience and maturity.
Despite the robust airflow, the compartment was actually pretty warm overnight and we slept relatively comfortably. Even the shaking and horns didn’t wake us too much.
The sunrise was particularly striking, though we were mostly headed directly into it and so getting a photo was tricky.
There was apparently a 3-hour delay overnight when our engine overheated, but we arrived in Dar es Salaam only an hour or two late. Going straight to the TAZARA station (TAnzania ZAmbia RAilway), we bought advance tickets for Dar to Mbeya for a few days hence. Then it was off to catch the last ferry to the island of Zanzibar. Of course it was sold out except for the ridiculous “Royal” class $60 tickets. It wasn’t remotely worth it, of course, but we made it to Zanzibar as planned.
Next time: Food poisoning and sultry Germans
Dave says: “I should have got the pink sheets.”
Aaah, poor you. On our day to Zanzibar, they were sold out apart for 40 dollars seats. You had the look of Rich guys.