The following day, we had to catch a matatu (small bus) into a town approximately 30 miles away to purchase some replacement cable, and then head back to begin the repair. It wasn't too long before the car was up and running again, and with the light fading, we decided to hit the road. The electrics weren't altogether right, and we now had no functional speedometer, fuel gauge, or battery light. We did, however, have a car that served its purpose, and for now that was enough. We set off expecting to find the border closed, and had planned to cross early the next morning. When we arrived, however, it was very much open, and so we decided to press on towards Pangani, with the aim of arriving there by arround 11pm.
As we passed through Tanga, the closest city to Pangani, I tried desperately to scout my memory banks for familiarity, but found none. We then headed down the dirt track towards Pangani, and it brought back memories from seven years previous, when I had ventured down the same road in a dala dala (small bus), and where I had experienced my first taste of Africa. We arrived into Pangani late, and in the darkness the town was barely recognisable. There were hundreds of new brick houses, a tarmac road, shops, restaurants, and numerous other new developments. My barings were confused by one of the major landmarks (an area of grass), having turned into a residential street, and after half an hour of being unsure, finally we asked the patrolling police vehicle, and were directed to the Yoeza household. It turned out I had directed us just one house short, and when I saw Mama, and entered the yard, all familiarity came rushing back.
I had promised 7 years ago that one day I would return, and it is important to me to always keep a promise. It had been a lot longer than I had first hoped, and imagined, but once more I was in Pangani, and with the Yoeza family. Mama was the same, and although the house had been improved it was very much like how I remembered it. Me and Phil took residence in my old room, and after Rich (Mama's son, who had been 14 last time, and was now 21), popped in to say hello, we all headed off to bed. Both Rich and Mama were the same as I remembered. Rich was of course older, and taller, but he still had the same manner, which I had liked so much before. It felt good to be back, and I was excited to explore the following day.
The next day we woke early, and after breakfast headed to see my old haunt, 'Pangedeco'. I had spent many an afternoon, reading or socialising there, and had half expected to find it unaltered. It was, however, unrecognisible, closed down, and overgrown. It was sad to see, but in truth it had been semi-neglected even when I was there. We soon discovered that there was a nice new campsite, bar, and restaurant just next door, and tourists weren't falling over each other, but neither was it 'dead' like all tourist resorts had been 7 years previously. Similarly, the beach was no longer completely deserted, with a few tourists exploring. It felt strange. In the two months I had previously spent there, I had seen only two tourists. Now, there was at least five times that number, and some even ventured into the town itself. It wasn't the stuff of my nightmares, but it was a small step towards it.
That night, I had to think. It was confusing. It was development. I had seen it with my own eyes. New houses, improved infrastructure, road networks, shops, restaurants, general living conditions, but somehow, somewhere it also seemed to have lost a little of it's soul. Although I had bumped into a few old friends, many more had moved on, and a high percentage of the new residents had arrived from the island of Pemba, bringing with them a whole new character to the town. It was nice, and they were lovely people, but it was different, and I didn't know how to feel about that. Pangani had changed form a poor fishing town, to what I can only describe as a soon to be thriving coastal destination. It had a new island feel, and I sensed very much that tourism, both international and local, would soon be abundant in the area. It was a good thing, it was progression. I simply had to get over my cynicism, and reluctance to embrace such a sector as wholly positive devlopment.
I had an issue with tourism in Africa. It's not a wholly justified one, but it was there all the same. Rich, who had impressed me so much with both his level of intelligence and character was now working as a waiter in a safari lodge, and it was good, it was work, an income, a livelihood, but it was also a service - a service to rich, and largely western tourists. If Pangani did become the resort town I half expected it too, it would no longer have that sense of the 'real' that I fell in love with. Tourism tended to create a rather unpleasant, competitive, and often invasive nature amongst people, it seemed to widen rather than reduce the gap between the natives and the outsiders. I hated every time I was approached as a tourist anywhere in Africa. It was an extension of the 'begging' culture. I wanted to scream 'I am here as a human being, as someone you can befriend, and talk to, not as a an outsider taking a peek into your difficult, but somehow enviable world.' It is unfair, I know, my opinion is massively flawed, but it was also massively real. It made me look forward and crave for the day that i learn to speak good enough Swahili, Amharic, Lua etc to not be seen as one of the outsiders anymore. I understood how important tourism was to the economy of many Africa countries, but even more so it reminded me of how important a conscious and ethical approach was to its development. It was the responsibility of both tour companies, resorts, and the tourists themselves to make the sector a positive one, bringing people together, and not reinstating that horrible presence of master and servant, that so deeply sickened me.
Ranting aside, we spent a lovely couple of days in Pangani, exploring both sides of the river, and catching up with old friends. Thomas (Mama's older son) had returned from Arusha, especially to see me, and although he was barely recognizable both physically and mentally, it was great to see him again. We had formed a special bond on my last visit, and although it didn't immediately click back and that familiarity was almost completely lacking, it certainly was important to me to see him again after so long. After our third night, Phil, Rich, Thomas, and myself jumped in the car together to head to Arusha, and for us our partner charity 'Futuresense'. I had volunteered with them (then 'Mondo Challenge') seven years previously, and so in a way it was my experience with them that had inspired the 'Real Way Down' itself. I had some negative preconceptions from my previous experience, but had observed a great deal of progression online, and hoped that this too would be recognizable on the ground.
After dropping Rich off in a town en route, to catch his bus back to work, and Thomas off at home, we met up with Gady, the elder son of the family we would be staying with in Arusha, and headed to our homestay. A lovely house on the outskirts of the city, we had the luxury of a comfortable bed each, and this would be crucial with a busy week ahead.
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