MERIKEBU KWA AMANI
Kayaking Lake Tanganyika
Exercising the “Spirit of Adventure”
&
Dumb Luck In Action
By
Tom Gerhardt
INTRODUCTION
Recently, I read the book Sidecountry, written by John Branch. The book is a collection of stories about ordinary people doing or having incredible physical and emotional experiences. The book includes a range of stories from those about folks involved in “offbeat sporting” events and challenges to tales about rock climbing and avalanches and turning personal travails into positive life lessons. The book, as Branch says, is about our “adventure of spirit” and about “ordinary people tangled in something extraordinary”. Needless to say, I enjoyed the book immensely and highly recommend it.
After I finished the book, it got me thinking about friends and acquaintances I have had in my life who have done incredible, amazing things but nobody knows about them. Their accomplishments and adventures were based on their passion and love for challenges and adventure. As I was pondering the memories of those “ordinary people tangled in something extraordinary” I realized, by God, I am one of those people!
What I mean is that, during my life, I have had amazing and unique experiences and adventures that have tested my skills and knowledge. My adventures have taught me a lot about myself, have given me great stories I can tell, and have provided me with great appreciation that I survived even if it was due to dumb luck.
The following is a story about an adventure I had in 1987 when I kayaked the length of Lake Tanganyika in Africa from Mpalungu, Zambia to Bujumbura, Burundi in a Klepper kayak. I decided to write this story hoping that those who read it will experience their “spirit of adventure” and acknowledge that ordinary people can do some extraordinary things in life.
THE IDEA AND HISTORY OF THE TRIP
You may be wondering where and how the idea of kayaking Lake Tanganyika came from. The origin of my idea for a trip on Tanganyika comes from the time I was a Peace Corps Volunteer (PCV) serving in Tanzania from 1981 to 1983. When I was a PCV in Tanzania I worked in post-harvest production with the Tanzania Department of Agriculture. Post-harvest production is just a fancy term for local grain storage. My role was to work with local farmers to reduce the losses of the grains they stored after harvesting. In some cases, farmers would lose over 50% of their harvest during storage. Storage losses came from mold, rats, and bugs. I worked with local farmers to identify where their losses were coming from and to improve local storage methods to address those losses.
I was assigned to the Mpanda District in the Rukwa Region ( now part of the Katavi Region). There were five different areas (Wards) in the Mpanda District that I was tasked to cover. One of those areas included remote communities along Lake Tanganyika. It was while visiting those communities that I became acquainted with just how fantastic, beautiful, and awesome Tanganyika is.
Not many people know that Tanganyika is the second largest lake, by volume, in the world and the second deepest. At 676km long and ranging from 16 km to 72km wide, it is the longest freshwater lake in the world and accounts for 16% of the world’s available fresh water. It is a no-joke natural wonder.
The primary community in the Ward I worked in along the lake is the community of Karema. Karema’s claim to fame is that it was founded by missionaries to protect communities from slavers. They also built the first church in that part of the world, which also functioned as a seminary. Although the church still sits on the bank of the lake, Karema is, essentially, a typical small fishing village.
I thoroughly enjoyed my time working in the communities along the lake. Whenever I could, I ventured out to explore the area, always being careful to avoid crocodiles and hippos. I would swim in the lake and be awed by the spectacular freshwater tropical fish that I saw. I can’t tell you just how fortunate I feel that I was able to have those experiences and really happy I did not get eaten by a crocodile!
Another person who shared my enthusiasm for the lake and that part of Africa was my colleague, Joe Piccoli, who was also a Grain Storage Volunteer assigned in the District of Sumbawanga in the Rukwa Region. As the only PCVs stationed in the Rukwa Region, we had many a good time when we got together. We had several adventures traveling throughout Tanzania on our Peace Corps-issued 125cc Honda motorcycles. Joe and I also climbed Mt Kilimanjaro and spent time exploring and camping in the newly designated Katavi National Park. During our time together there, we often talked about returning to Tanzania after the Peace Corps to do some adventure. So, of course, when I decided to kayak Lake Tanganyika, Joe was the person at the top of my list to join me in this quest.
PREPARATIONS FOR THE TRIP
After completing my Peace Corps service, I returned home and got back into living in the good old U.S. of A. I ended up going back to school, enrolling in an Environmental Science program at The Evergreen State College in Olympia, Washington. Evergreen and the Environmental Science program was the perfect place for me to land after my Peace Corps stint. During my time there I got into rock and alpine climbing, exploring the outdoor recreation opportunities offered in the Pacific Northwest, while thoroughly engaged in and enjoying my Environmental Science studies.
It was also during my time in Olympia that the idea of going back to Tanzania and kayaking Lake Tanganyika resurfaced. It also helped that, after discussing a possible trip to Tanganyika, a professor suggested that, if I did do the kayak adventure, I could get credit for it. This encouraged me to see what it would take to make my dream come true.
The first item I had to deal with was figuring out what craft I could use on the trip. At that time, in 1986, it was clear that securing a kayak in Africa would be difficult and probably expensive. That in turn got me to look at folding kayaks that I could travel with. These days there are several inflatable and folding kayaks on the market. Back then the selection was somewhat limited. In the folding kayak category, there were: Folboat, Feathercraft, Nautiraid, and Klepper.
After doing some comparisons, I decided the craft for me would be a Klepper Arius II folding Kayak. The reason I decided on the Klepper is that it was expedition-proven. Someone even crossed the Atlantic Ocean in one. I always say that “the Klepper is the Cadillac of folding kayaks”. Another plus for my choice was that REI, at that time, sold Klepper Kayaks so, as an REI Coop member, I would get back a hefty dividend. It is also a claim to fame that, at that time, the Klepper was the most expensive item sold at REI. Along with the basic boat I purchased spray-skirts and a sailing kit.
Once I got my Klepper, I became familiar with its abilities and limitations by doing short trips in southern Puget Sound and elsewhere around Washington State. I became adept at the assembly and disassembly of the boat and getting it packed up to travel. From my viewpoint, the Klepper was the perfect craft for my Tanganyika adventure.
The next item I had to consider was whether I would do this trip solo or with someone else. I admit readily that I did not want to do this trip solo, so I contacted my old friend Joe Piccoli and pitched the idea to him about going back to Tanzania and kayaking Tanganyika. After our initial conversation, Joe voiced his strong interest in the Tanganyika trip. However, before fully committing, he needed to determine if he had the funds to do the trip. Also, and more importantly, he had to see if his fiancé would agree for him to be gone for the time required and if she would give her blessing for him to do the adventure.
I will always be grateful to Lou, Joe’s fiancé, that she agreed to let Joe go on our adventure. It must not have been an easy decision for her considering her first husband died on an expedition to Mt Everest. However, as I understand it, Joe had to promise that, after they got married, he would not do any more risky adventures.
Once Joe got on board, we started doing some planning; making preparations for our journey. Joe made a few trips out to Olympia from his home in Jackson Hole, Wyoming where we took short trips in the Klepper and talked about how and when we would travel back to Africa and agreed on who would be responsible for what. We also attempted to do some research on Lake Tanganyika although there wasn’t much available. Remember this was all before the internet and long before things like Wikipedia and GPS mapping became so prominent. I will admit that we did not spend too much energy researching and mostly relied on our personal experiences seeing and visiting the lake while PCVs. A good indicator of just how limited the information was on Lake Tanganyika was that the best map of it we could get a hold of was a SHELL Road Map of Tanzania with a legend of 1 million to 1. This was the map that we used throughout our trip.
While planning our trip we decided that we should give our expedition a name. We decided to call it Merikebu Kwa Amani, which is Kiswahili for Ship/Boat for Peace. I believe we also created a simple logo and had a few tee-shirts made. Unfortunately, after almost 35 years, the remnants of those shirts and logos are long gone.
Finally, we discussed when it would be possible for us to take the time for our little adventure. Because of my academic schedule and Joe’s work responsibilities, it was decided that we would use the summer months to return to Tanzania for the trip. The other consideration was that we had to be back in the States for Joe’s wedding on August 15th. As we started to plan around that timeframe it was not clear how much time would be required to complete our adventure. If I remember correctly, we used six weeks as the maximum time we could allocate for this journey.
PLANS AND SCHEDULE
When we defined our roles and responsibilities for the trip, we decided that I would be responsible for the packing and transporting of the Klepper and other craft-related items. Since our trip was going to be essentially one long camping trip, Joe was tasked with organizing and securing the gear we would need.
When the Klepper is folded up it goes into two large bags. One bag holds the canvas/rubber hull and the other bag holds the wooden frame pieces and two oars. The two bags together weigh approximately 75lb. In addition to the boat, I needed to fit the sail rig, life vests, spray skirt, distress signal items and some ropes/lines into the existing bags.
Joe, in turn, put together all the camping gear consisting of sleeping bags, mats, a tent, cooking essentials, water bottles, headlamps, dry bags, and water purification methods. We also had to select a stove that had a multi-fuel capability. He was also able to secure a very nice and expensive pair of binoculars. Although we envisioned getting our food supply locally, Joe supplemented that with various freeze-dried items and, from somebody in Jackson Hole, he secured a few pounds of bison-jerky. All this was put into a large duffle bag that would be checked in for the flights to Africa.
For our personal items and clothes, we agreed to fit them into a day pack each that we could carry on the plane. Needless to say, our attire throughout the trip was sparse and a real fashion statement.
After investigating what route would be best for us to take to and from Africa and Lake Tanganyika, we decided that the best place to use as a base on the lake would be Bujumbura, Burundi which is located on the north end of the lake. The major consideration here was that Bujumbura, as the capital of Burundi, had an airport that international flights flew in and out of. Once that was decided, we looked for the cheapest round-trip fare we could find.
Using JFK airport in New York as a starting point, the cheapest fare we could find went from JFK to Nairobi, Kenya where we had a stopover before catching a plane that flew from Nairobi to Kigali, Rwanda then into Bujumbura. The return trip just reversed that itinerary. I can’t remember exactly, but for the first leg from JFK to Kenya, we went on a large international carrier. It might have even been Pan Am. Once in Africa, our flights were on regional/local airlines. Sometimes flying on local airlines is an adventure in itself. Still, that was the plan and we stuck to it.
To catch our flight to Africa, Joe and I made arrangements to meet at the airport in New York on the given day and then, together, take all our bags and check-in for our flight to Kenya. Much to my surprise, it worked out, although not without some anxiety and luck.
The anxiety and luck part occurred while checking in on our Kenya flight. As you can imagine, the boat bags and duffle bags we were checking in caused some curiosity and scrutiny at the check-in counter. First, there was the matter of all the weight and the contents. When asked what was in the bags and I informed them that there was a boat in the bags, folks were a little surprised. This, of course, elicited questions about where we were going and what we were going to do when we got there. This did allow us to tell our story about our planned adventure which either impressed folks or they just thought we were nuts. Because there was some concern expressed by people at the check-in counter about the size of the pieces and weight, there was a level of anxiety. The one thing going for us was that the person checking us in had only started working for the airline the day before. Because of this, she was unsure about how to charge for oversized and or over-weight luggage. Plus, there was a long line behind us so she sort of let us skate through without any additional charges to avoid any delays in checking people in. I also think she liked us and I must say letting us avoid additional costs paid dividends farther along on our trip.
START OF THE ADVENTURE
The flight from New York JFK was comfortable and uneventful. The one thing I remember on the flight was that I was able to practice some Kiswahili with one of the flight attendants. I surprised myself by how much I remembered from my time as a Peace Corps Volunteer. Having some Swahili speaking ability proved to be worthwhile.
On landing in Kenya, the real adventure began. Since we had a stopover in Kenya, Joe and I had to go through Kenyan Immigration and Customs. The first order of business was to get an Entry Visa on landing. As we entered the terminal there was a rush to the Visa counter. The crush of people not adhering to any line or order immediately reminded us that we were back in Africa. So, instead of joining the crush and getting all excited and agitated, we just waited till everyone else was processed. When we finally made it to the counter we were treated to our first African bureaucracy experience. As we handed in our Visa paperwork the agent was handed a note from his superior. The note he received was an official directive increasing the cost of an Entry Visa by $5.00. Everyone else before us only had to pay the original cost. Having had the experience of living and working in Africa previously we knew to look at the absurdity of this situation humorously and just accept it as a welcome back to Africa gesture.
The next thing we had to deal with was collecting our luggage and getting it into storage at the airport. We realized that, if we took all our belongings out of the airport, there would be a likelihood that weight and size limitations could cause an issue when we checked in again. It did take some time to track down representatives from the airline we would be flying on next and it took some talking for them to take responsibility for our gear but, in the end, they agreed and we helped transport all our gear to their storage area.
This was also the first time we started to refer to our “adventure” as an “expedition”. It seems that the term “expedition” made our trip sound more important and official. It did not hurt that often we would play up the expedition idea and take pictures of people who helped us and assure them they would get a mention in the official record for the “expedition”.
Although we did not have much time in Nairobi, we did get to explore the city and even got to the Game Park just outside of town. Nairobi is a big, busy city and a happening place and it was fun just exploring. It also allowed us to continue to practice our Kiswahili.
On the day of our onward flight, we got to the airport early, tracked down our contact with the airline, and made sure all our stuff got put on the plane. The trip onward went without a hitch with a quick stop in Kigali which allowed us to fly over a really pretty part of Africa. Once we landed in Bujumbura, I was surprised we were able to breeze through Immigration without any trouble, although we did snap a few pictures of officials who helped facilitate our “expedition” through Immigration and Customs. Once in the country we found a place to stay, and then Joe and I looked at one another to say; now what?
The “now what” question was, now that we made it to the lake, what were we going to do? Up to this point, we had not decided or discussed our route on the lake. Should we start in Bujumbura and travel south or get to the south end of the lake and travel north? The one sure thing we had agreed on was that we would stay on the east side or, the Tanzania side of the lake, as that was the side where we had some experience and knowledge. We also realized the west side, which, at that time, was Zaria ( currently the DRC), had a reputation for being rather lawless and should be avoided.
As luck would have it, we heard that the ship, Liemba, which travels the lake, was departing the next day and it would travel all the way to Mpulungu, Zambia. Based on this information, we decided to take the Liemba to Zambia and come back north. That way we could check out the route and shore along the way. It wasfortunate we did that, as it ended up that the prevalent winds for that time of the year blew south to north so, if we had decided to start our trip on the lake in Bujumbura, we would have had to battle the winds all the way. See what I mean by dumb luck?
Once that was decided, we secured passage on the ship and, on departure day, loaded all our stuff and made ourselves comfortable in a small, shared passenger cabin for the trip south. The trip on the Liemba was a very nice experience. It allowed us to get a feel for the lake and also see some of the villages along the way. It provided some reference points for our kayak trip back and it was a unique vantage point from which to see how people lived along the lake.
At this point, I would be remiss if I did not talk about the Liemba and its storied history. The Liemba was constructed in Germany way back in 1913. After it was built, it was taken apart, and then shipped to Lake Tanganyika and reassembled. During this time, its function was to protect German interests in that part of Africa. However, as World War I was ending, and the Germans retreating, the captain had the ship scuttled so it would not fall into British hands. In 1924, a British Navy salvage team raised it and it was put back in service in 1927. I believe that it may have sunk one more time and was raised again. The ship has gone through a few different re-fittings to its power plants and continues to serve communities along the lake to this day. Another claim to fame for the Liemba is that, in the famous African Queen movie, it was cast as the German gunboat Luisa that was blown up at the end of the movie. Needless to say, the Liemba has an incredible history and story!
After five or six days on the Liemba, bright and early one morning, we docked in Mpulungu, Zambia. After disembarking, we gathered all our gear and made our way to the Zambia Immigration and Customs desk. The desk was manned by one immigration agent who would process our entry into Zambia. As you might imagine, the agent was somewhat curious about the two Wazungu ( white folks) with all the gear. Nonetheless, after answering all his questions and showing him the contents of our boat bags, he stamped our passports for entry into Zambia.
After lugging all our stuff out of the immigration office, Joe and I sat down to consider our next step. Both Joe and I had a distinct feeling that we were not done having to deal with Zambian officials of some stripe. Based on our gut feeling, we decided that it would be wise to, as they say,” get out of Dodge”. After that was decided, we flagged down a small pick-up truck and asked the driver to, first, take us to a store where we purchased some rice, beans, oil, and kerosene for our stove, then to a beach near the dock area where we could assemble the Klepper, pack it and head north.
The first time we put the boat together in Mpulungu, we learned many lessons. After getting to the beach, the two Wazungu with the big bags became quite a spectacle and drew a large, curious audience. As we laid out the parts of the Klepper and started to assemble the boat there were lots of questions and inquiries and offers to help. As the crowd surrounded us, I became concerned that all it would take was for someone to grab a piece of the boat or an item of our gear as a souvenir of the crazy wazungu that passed through their town, and we would have to delay our departure. Despite the crowd surrounding us, we were able to get the boat put together and then hurriedly packed in all our belongings, trying to make the Klepper as balanced and trim as we could.
Once assembled and organized, Joe and I quickly got in the Klepper, bid goodbye to the onlookers, and started paddling north. As we got some distance from the shore, we noted the arrival of a police vehicle, which confirmed our premonition that perhaps we were not done with Zambian authorities, so it was a wise decision to listen to our guts and leave when we did.
Our destination, once on the water, was to get across the Tanzania-Zambia border, which looked to be approximately 10 to 12 miles. Our reference point would be the small village of Kalambo, at the mouth of the Kalambo River, right on the border where we planned to pull over and spend the night and get better organized.
HEADING NORTH
As we got into a good paddling rhythm, Joe and I reminisced about the time when we were PCVs and rode our motorcycles out to the Kalambo River to check out Kalambo Falls. We made this trip because someone had mentioned that there were these incredible falls on the border between Tanzania and Zambia, so of course we had to check it out. And, in fact, the falls are located approximately 5km from the mouth of the Kalambo River and are very impressive. With a single drop of 235 meters (772ft), Kalambo Falls is one of the tallest, uninterrupted falls in Africa and the tallest in Tanzania and Zambia. It is quite a majestic natural formation and is considered one of the most important archaeological sites in Africa, with records of human occupation spanning over 447,000 years. As we paddled north, Joe and I discussed the possibility of exploring up the river to check out the bottom of the falls since our initial visit was to the top of the falls. The whole discussion just made us more excited about finally being on the lake and starting our adventure.
After a few hours of paddling, we spotted the small village at the mouth of the Kalambo River, and headed for it. Being aware of how surprised people might be upon seeing two wazungu in a kayak, we decided that, before landing, we would ask permission if it was okay to come ashore. We figured this would show proper respect and allow us to gauge how our arrival was going to be met.
When we approached the shore, several people had gathered, after spotting us heading their way. Once close to the shore, in our best Kiswahili, we did the traditional greetings and then asked if it was okay for us to land. Permission was given with great smiles and welcoming greetings.
While we were getting out of the kayak, somebody found the chief of the village who came down to the beach to greet us. After going through more traditional greetings for highly respected individuals, we introduced ourselves and told the chief about our plans to kayak the length of the lake. We also asked if it would be possible for us to camp that night in the village. Everything was going swimmingly well, and quite a crowd had gathered, when another person arrived shouting orders and telling people to stand back.
After our cordial reception with the village chief, the change in attitude took us by surprise. It seems that the new person was the Mwenykiti ( political chairperson) of the village. Besides being drunk, for some reason, he was none too happy to see us. I should explain that, back in those days, the political, social, and economic policy of Ujamaa was in place and the ruling political party was Chama Cha Mapinduzi (CCM). To ensure that government policies were being enforced, the CCM would assign individuals to the villages, acting as the Mwenykiti. Often the folks assigned were political hacks and usually not from the village they were assigned. Although there were some competent, reasonable, and engaged Mwenykiti often, in my experience, in the remote villages they tended to be corrupt and disruptive in the community.
As the guy approached he was screaming and accusing us of being South African spies. Despite the village chief explaining who we were and what we were doing, the Mwenykiti became more agitated and demanded to see our passports, identification and introduction letters. He also searched our kayak and proceeded to unload everything even dumping out our beans and rice. What got me pissed was that he took our passports and would not give them back, telling us he was going to check with the authorities and that tomorrow he would make the decision to either let us continue or arrest us. I will say, as this was going on, I was beginning to lose my temper and, if it wasn’t for Joe, I might have punched the guy out.
As the situation unfolded, the person I felt most sorry for was the traditional village chief. He was obviously embarrassed and ashamed that this guy was making his village look bad. You could sense that he did not think highly of the Mwenykiti. After some more screaming and accusations, the Mwenykiti left the beach, telling us to come by his house in the morning.
With the departure of the jerk, I was not happy and informed the chief to let us be. He, in turn, informed us he would escort us to the Myenykiti’s house in the morning and assured us he would do all he could so we could continue on our trip. He also apologized for Myenykiti’s behavior and let us know he was not originally from the village.
The next order of business was to get the boat packed up again, make camp, and break out the stove to cook dinner. As we went about doing this, another couple of incidents caused more frustration for us. We had never used our stove and, while trying to get it functioning, the thing almost blew up. The lesson there was to always try things before taking them in the field. The next incident that occurred was, as it was getting dark, the chief stopped by and recommended that we move our camp. When I angrily asked why we would do that, he informed me, calmly, that crocodiles and hippos often came up on that beach at night. With that piece of information, we broke up camp and carried the boat to a place off the beach next to someone’s house. And that was our first night on our adventure.
Bright and early the next morning, we got up and got organized, packing up the boat so that when we got back our passports we could get out of Kalambo as fast as possible. While getting everything organized, the folks in the house where we stayed brought us breakfast. When the chief came by, we all headed to the Mwenykiti’s place. Along the way, the chief assured us that we would get back our passports. I got the distinct impression that the village elders had a talk with the jerk and made him aware that he needed to improve his behavior. And, in fact, the Mwenykiti begrudgingly handed over our passports but not before threatening to write something on them. At that point, I informed him he did not have any authority to write on our passports and that, if he did, he would be in trouble. With passports in hand, we made it lickity-split back to the boat, said farewell to the chief, and thankfully left Kalambo in our rear-view mirror, although somewhat sad we did not get to the base of Kalambo Falls.
There was definitely a sense of relief as we headed north. The one thing that Joe and I agreed on after that experience, was that, whenever possible, we needed to avoid contact with village authorities and needed to be more cognisant that our presence caused a level of curiosity and interest that could cause problems for us.
The next destination on our itinerary was to stop in the community of Kasanga, which had a Tanzania Immigration and Customs office, where we could get our Tanzania Visa stamped for entry. That way we would be in the country legally. When on the Liemba, the ship made a brief stop at the village, so we had some reference points as to where the Immigration office was located. Also, during his time as a PCV, Joe had visited the community, so he also had some idea of where we needed to go.
On landing at Kasanga we drew the usual crowd but we were able to navigate the situation and get in and out of the Immigration office without too much of a hassle. Once we secured our entry stamps, we decided that we would continue on and find a quiet, remote place to camp and prepare to continue our trip north. On our second night on the lake, we found a nice camping spot and we relaxed, got the stove working, had a good meal, and got a good night’s sleep.
DAILY SCHEDULES AND CHALLENGES
While at Camp 2 it dawned on us that there were probably going to be other challenges along our route that we may not have considered. Despite that realization, I was extremely excited to wonder what adventures lay ahead and felt confident we had the proper attitude and skills to complete our trip successfully.
As I mentioned earlier, I had investigated how I might get academic credit for the trip along the lake. My major professor had agreed to grant me those credits. The deal was I would keep a Naturalist Journal during the trip and, on its completion, submit the journal and a paper detailing significant insights and learnings I acquired during the “expedition”.
The format I was to use for the journal was the Grinnell System. The Grinnell format was used throughout my time at Evergreen and is very specific and distinctive. First and foremost, it is completely objective. The journal entries provide detailed natural observations and descriptions and catalog flora and fauna species observed. The Grinnell System is nothing like writing in a personal diary, which is more subjective. Because I was getting credit for it, throughout the trip I strictly adhered to the Grinnell method and, unfortunately, did not record many of the personal aspects of the trip. I suppose that is what this article is about. I am sad to say that, once again, the journal and paper I submitted have been misplaced so I could not refer to them. The good news is that the submission of my journal and my paper dealing with my trip to Lake Tanganyika was accepted and I received the academic credit.
One of the subjects we talked about while at Camp 2 was how we wanted day-to-day activities and schedules to work. We did not set any specific time or distance objectives; we would take things as they came. We did, however, decide that we would alternate days when one of us would be the Captain, and the other, the First Mate. The role of the Captain was to be responsible for all the decisions while on the boat that day. They would sit in the rear cockpit and control the rudder and the sail when sailing. They would decide when and where we would stop. The First Mate would sit in the front cockpit and, using the map and observations, provide navigation information. The First Mate would also be in charge of making lunch as we progressed down the lake and when sailing and not paddling, would read aloud from various books we brought. One of the books we read along the way was David Quamman’s Natural Acts, which seemed quite appropriate. Another major responsibility of the First Mate was, after a landing spot was identified, to go ashore to ensure that it was a safe place to camp. Basically, the job was to make sure there were no signs of hippos, crocodiles, or other large beasts that might eat us, inhabiting the site. I will admit that this task, at times, was stressful but also necessary.
Once on shore for the day, one of us would put up our tent and arrange our sleeping bags and mats while the other person would start a fire and prepare our meal for the evening. Usually, while dinner was cooking, someone might take the fishing pole and give fishing a go. If fish were caught, they would be put on the fire to include with our meal. At each campsite, we would unload the Klepper and lay everything out so it could get dry for the next leg of the journey. While camping we would bath in the lake, wash clothes, and maintain our hygiene. I have great memories of places we camped and later on, I will mention a few that I remember.
Given the wind that blew daily, it was extremely beneficial that we had brought a sailing rig. Being able to sail meant less paddling and covering more distance every day. The sail rig for the Klepper is well-designed and works well in practice. With the wind coming primarily from the south, we could move right along and, at times, got going too fast and were in jeopardy of capsizing, which would not have been good. If things got too exciting, we would drop sail and go back to paddling. Nonetheless, we were able to utilize the sail for much of the trip.
It is good to keep in mind that Lake Tanganyika is a big body of water and, as such, is subject to swings in wind and weather that could cause major challenges to our daily travel. Back in 1987, we did not have access to daily weather forecasting tools so we needed to rely on our observations and dumb luck to avoid any weather or water-related circumstances that could sink our hope of completing our trip. For the most part, we were successful, and listened to our gut when we felt a turn in weather was coming. There were a few times that, after rising in the morning, we decided to stay put. In all cases, I am confident we made the right decisions and did not let our egos or bravado get the best of us.
Another daily situation we learned to navigate was how to avoid unnecessary hassles in communities when we stopped or passed by. Initially, when I thought about the trip, I envisioned that we would stop at remote villages and be welcomed; I did not foresee our visit creating any problems or disturbances. I now know I was naive about that aspect of the trip. For the most part, when we stopped in or near a community, we were welcomed and treated very well. However, two wazungu in a kayak paddling from Zambia to Burundi did create a level of curiosity, hence, large crowds would gather around us and not give us our space or privacy. Then, of course, as mentioned previously, there were local authorities who felt they needed to demonstrate their authority and wanted to detain or question us.
One technique we learned was that when we needed to stop someplace to get supplies or information, we would not pull directly into the village but would come ashore before reaching the populated area. Our landing would usually draw the attention of a few folks who would meet us at the shore. If we needed to purchase something, we would ask one of the people to take us to the store and then one person would go with our guide while one of us would stay near the kayak. The person going to the store did not waste time and would gather what was needed and return as soon as possible. Then we would load up, thank our guide and the few other people around the boat, and head on out. It was usually at that point someone would say we needed to wait to talk with the chief or Mwenykiti to which we would respond that we were sorry but did not understand Kiswahili. There were a few occasions when the authorities would load into a boat and try to chase us down but we would put our backs into paddling or put out the full sail so we never got delayed.
Our primary reference tool to know where we were at any given time was the Shell Road Map of Tanzania. Although it did not provide for our exact location it gave us an idea of how our trip was progressing. It also gave information about where rivers enter the lake and the locations of some of the larger communities. That helped us to estimate our location. One situation we used the map for was to avoid getting caught in marshy or wetland environments where rivers entered the lake. We understood these were to be avoided because there was a high likelihood that hippos and crocodiles would reside in that type of environment. We tried to make sure that, at the end of the day when looking to camp, we would be past those areas. For the most part, we were successful but there were a few times when, at the end of the day, we were smack in the middle of a place we did not want to be. On a few occasions, this meant a few adrenaline-fueled paddling sprints to outrun a mad or unhappy hippo or two. It also made for some very long days of paddling until we cleared the swampy areas. Having survived a few close calls makes me thankful. I do not doubt that if a hippo did catch up to us, we would not have survived.
HIGHLIGHTS
One of the most important of our daily tasks was to find good camping spots. Usually, at around three in the afternoon, we would be on the lookout for a place to make our camp. There were times when it took a few hours to find a suitable place to land and set up camp. Each place we stopped was unique and as we went, I named each of our camping sites based on specific features of the site. Although I do not remember all of them the following is a sample of some that I do recall.
Of course, night number one was christened Home of the Jerk, and then site Camp 2. Other stops included Rock Jock Haven, which was a rock outcropping that had some fantastic bouldering problems. Hornbill Place, which had a large population of local Hornbill birds roosting in a tree nearby camp. Bad Back Beach was where Joe threw out his back and where we spent a few days to allow him time to heal. Windy Estate was a spot where the wind blew very hard while we were there. Binocular Rock is where Joe tried to repair the binoculars we brought that got waterlogged. Although he was successful in taking the binoculars completely apart, when he got it all dry and back together, they were more kaleidoscopes than binoculars. ( I can’t knock him for trying.) For one night we stayed at a site named Shit Beach. This was a place we landed after a very long day, and it was dark. We set up camp quickly and when we got up the next morning we realized that this was probably a landing spot where local fishermen would land and take craps. Needless to say, not our favorite camping site. Fishing Light City was a camp where we observed, after dark, hundreds of lights on the lake from local fishing boats fishing for sardine-like fish they netted at night. Pirates Cove was a stop we made where there was a small group of what we thought were fishermen. However, on further observation, we noted more firearms and machetes than fishing poles/nets and surmised that our camping colleagues were more likely some sort of pirate group that traveled on the lake. The next morning, bright and early, we packed up and started to head out when things got a little testy with a few men on the beach. They wanted to check out our belongings and felt strongly that we might contribute something to them. Perhaps it was our bluster or their being unsure if we were armed or not, but we got away unscathed. There was Wavy Wave Station where the waves kicked up by the wind were huge and surf-like which made it difficult to land and depart. And, finally, I remember Hippo Plop Beach. The day we landed here I was the First Mate and I was as sick as a dog and all I wanted to do was die. So, when I went on shore to check out the area, I did not care that there were hippo prints and crap everywhere or that I thought I saw tracks and an imprint from a large crocodile. I waved for Joe to land the kayak, threw up the tent and went right to sleep. I slept like a baby. The next morning Joe informed me he did not get much sleep and spent the night anticipating being trampled by hippos or eaten by a croc. Once again, by dumb luck, we survived without an incident.
One of the most anticipated stops for us was a stop in Kigoma, Tanzania. Kigoma is a large town toward the end of the lake. It is the terminus for the Tanzania Railway from Dar es Salam. After camping and sleeping on the ground for many nights, we planned on getting a room at the Railway Hotel, which we were told was the best place in town, sleeping in a bed, having a few good meals and downing several beers. We figured that this would be a good way to reenergize and prepare for our final push to Bujumbura.
As we entered the Kigoma harbor we made our way to what looked like and ended up being the Railway Hotel beach area. After coming ashore, we made our way to the front desk and the reception area. When we arrived at the front desk several people had just arrived by train and were in line, waiting to check in. As we waited our turn, those who had reservations got checked in and the other folks who did not have reservations were told the hotel was full. After hearing this, we were disappointed, but figured we would ask the person at the front desk if he could recommend another hotel and also see if we could arrange to store the Kayak someplace at the hotel.
As the reception area cleared out, we approached the front desk and went through our mandatory Swahili greetings. After that, we said we understood that the hotel was full and asked for any recommendations for places to stay. At that point, the guy at the desk looks up and says “Piccoli” and gives a big smile to Joe. At first, Joe was as baffled as I was by this greeting, but then he recognized the front desk person and they exchanged more greetings.
It seems that the Front Desk guy, Charles, lived in Sumbawanga when Joe was there as a PCV. Joe helped Charles fill out his application to attend the Tourism and Hotel Management program at the University in Dar es Salaam. After he was accepted into the program, Joe gave him a suitcase to use on his trip to Dar. Charles was now the manager of the Railway Hotel in Kigoma.
After visiting for a bit, Charles informed us that he had a room for us and it ended up being one of the best at the hotel. After getting settled we joined Charles for a meal and a number of beers and talked about what he had been doing and how he liked managing hotels. Charles was a super nice person and we stayed at the Railway Hotel for two nights. When we went to pay for our meals and room he refused to accept payment. When we asked what we could do for him to repay his kindness, he requested that, when we got back to the States, we send him some tennis balls as he had become an avid tennis player and tennis balls were very difficult to get in Tanzania. I believe this encounter proves that you get back what you give.
The next stop on our trip was another highlight for us and another experience we had been looking forward to since we started paddling north. The famous Gombe Stream Park was next on our list to visit. Most people know that Gombe Stream is famous for the chimp research being done by Jane Goodall. Gombe Stream was a big tourist attraction and got many day visitors. Joe and I were looking forward to visiting the park and heard there might be an opportunity to meet Jane Goodall in person.
On arrival at the Park, we tied up to the dock and were greeted by the park superintendent. Once we went through our greetings and introductions, the superintendent showed interest in our adventure and asked many questions. He informed us that we had just missed Goodall but invited us to stay and offered to show us around the park as we were the only visitors there at that time.
The superintendent helped us move the Klepper and put it in an unused building where we set up camp. He also informed us to make sure we kept everything locked up because resident baboons were known to get into everything. The next day he introduced us to some of the park staff who were going out to do field work and we got to accompany a staffer to observe a specific population of chimpanzees that lived in the park. It was cool to hear about all the research being done in the park and it is incredible the information that they have been gathering and cataloging for many years. The time we got to spend at Gombe was certainly one of the main highlights of our trip. My hat goes off to Jane Goodall and her staff for the work they are doing.
As we prepared to depart Gombe, as was our custom, we inquired if there was anything we should know about our planned route forward. The park superintendent provided some very useful information concerning the border between Tanzania and Burundi. He informed us that there was a small village on the Burundi border that had a Burundi Immigration Office and that we might be able to get our entry stamp there instead of in Bujumbura.
The distance from Gombe Stream to the Burundi border was not that far so we kept an eye for the village that might have an Immigration Office. As we passed a community, we noted a sailboat moored just offshore and figured that that might be a sign that it was a place to cross from one country to another. After paddling a little past the community, we landed on the shore. As we exited the kayak, all of a sudden, we were surrounded by a group of armed, camouflaged soldiers, who did not seem very welcoming or very happy to see us. I must admit it was a scary moment. As the soldiers approached, they gave some orders in French, which neither Joe nor I understood. There was also some other language used that sounded African but I did not recognize it.
Using a combination of Kiswahili and English we were able to communicate that we were not invading but traveling to Bujumbura from Zambia and that we were looking for the Immigration Office. Once we made our intentions known, we were told to follow two of the soldiers while the others stayed behind to secure our boat. Much to my surprise, the two soldiers walked us back through the community to a small hut where the Immigration Officer was sitting. Once there we introduced ourselves, explained who we were and the goal of our “expedition”, and requested an entry stamp on our passports. Lo-and-behold, after some discussion, the gentlemen took us to another hut with a desk and stamped our passports! We then were escorted back to the Klepper and we continued on our way while our camouflaged friends melted back into the forest. That night, when we stopped, Joe and I marveled at our good fortune and gave thanks that we did not get shot.
Crossing the border meant that after approximately five weeks on the lake, we were coming near the end of our adventure. This caused feelings of excitement and some impatience about when we would arrive in Bujumbura. I believe it was the day before we reached Bujumbura we were paddling along and heard a motorboat coming our way. It was a zodiac-type boat with four or five people in it all of whom were wazungu. As it drew near, over the water, we heard them wondering who were the two people in the kayak. One of the passengers even thought we might be Japanese. Once they came alongside us we all stared at one another before greeting each other in English. As we floated, side by side, we shared information about our “expedition” and were informed that they were a group of academics who were studying Lake Tanganyika. What was off the wall about this meeting was that an acquaintance of mine back in the States, Robin Jones, had done an internship the year before on Lake Tanganyika. As we were floating around and talking, I casually asked if anyone knew Robin. Much to my surprise one of the people happened to be her head professor during her internship. What is that they say about a small world? Before going on our way, the professor gave us his contact information in Bujumbura and suggested we give him a call when we arrived to go out and have a few beers, which indeed we ended up doing.
HEADING HOME
When the outline of the city of Bujumbura came into view it was a great feeling of both accomplishment but also relief. With great anticipation of landing at our destination, we picked up our pace and headed for the shore. We had decided that our landing spot would be at the Bujumbura Yacht Club which we knew was a little east of where the Liemba dock was located. We figured landing at the Yacht Club would draw less of a curious crowd. As we drew closer to the shore, we noted some sailboat masts and ski-boats docked in a small cove and headed right for it.
As we got closer, we had to zig and zag some to avoid a few groups of hippos that seemed to be lounging around. As we headed to the cove with the sailboat masts it was clear we were headed to the right place and, as we approached the beach, a bunch of people came out of the Yacht Club building and watched. When we landed on the beach beside the building those folks that were on the porch watching gave us a round of applause. Someone asked where we were coming from and when we informed them from Zambia that got another round of applause.
I understood why folks might applaud us for our trip from Zambia but was a little confused as to why we got the initial applause before they knew our starting point. However, after someone came down to the beach to greet us, they let us know the reason for the initial applause. It seems that no boats had been coming or going from the yacht club because there had been an incident with the hippos and one boat had been damaged. The initial applause was that we survived the hippo gauntlet. Another example of dumb luck.
Some of the Yacht Club employees came to help get the Klepper on shore and one of the members of the club came down to meet us. We introduced ourselves, described our adventure, and let him know how happy we were to arrive in Bujumbura. We asked if it would be okay if we ended our trip at the club and he was very welcoming and offered any help we might need. The president of the club joined us and reiterated the club's welcome and assistance and invited us into the club for something to eat and drink.
The club ended up being quite nice but for sure Joe and I must have been a sight to see in our condition in ragtag clothes, only lake-bathed, and unshaven. Still, everyone was very nice and, as we ordered some food and beers, people asked lots of questions and listened to our account of our trip from Zambia to Burundi. We also heard their stories about the club having to deal with aggressive hippos periodically and a few anecdotes of water skiers being eaten by crocodiles when they fell. It was also our observation that the membership of the Yacht Club was mostly rich, white, business folks, many with ties to Belgium, which had been the colonial power before independence. Not the usual cadre of people we socialized with when we lived in Tanzania.
After our meal and visit to the club’s dining room, we wanted to get the boat taken apart and packed up and find a place to stay. The Club President said that, before doing anything else, he would take us to the Immigration Office to get our entry stamp. When we informed him we already had that done on the border he was very surprised. He told us that, although they say there is an Immigration Office in that village, he knew of nobody who ever was able to get their entry stamp there. He even asked to see our passports to make sure we had the right stamp.
It did not take too long to take the boat apart, pack it up, and get our gear packed up. Once that was done, the Club President took us to a small guesthouse he recommended and got us all settled. He also invited us to his house that evening for dinner and to meet his wife and family.
The dinner at the Club President's place was pleasant. The house was on a hill overlooking the city and lake. The food and drink were great and his wife was lovely. As a successful businessman, he did not have many nice things to say about the Burundi government, was somewhat condescending about African culture, and voiced his opinion on the benefits of colonialization. Given we were guests in his house and because we had been treated well by his staff and club members, Joe and I just bit our tongues and enjoyed the meal and the cognac. To thank him and to not be in his debt, I gave him the flair-gun we brought with us. Since we had used it a few times to keep hippos and baboons at bay, I thought he might be able to use it too. Also, I figured the chances of getting the flare-gun back to the States through Customs and Immigration might be a problem, so I wanted to avoid that hassle.
While in Bujumbura we also met up with the professor who was studying Lake Tanganyika. Our dinner with him was somewhat different. We ate in the backyard of someone's house that sold beer and grilled meat. We talked about the professor's work and our adventures, we compared notes about various places on the lake, and best yet, laughed, and danced with the neighbors and the other patrons. A pretty typical night on the town for returned Peace Corps Volunteers
With the date for Joe's nuptials approaching, we could not dawdle and needed to get home. We made arrangements for the trip home the reverse of how we came. The only hassles we faced were in Kenya. The first hassle was that we needed cash so once back in Nairobi I went to a bank to get cash from my Master Charge Card. (Remember, back then no ATMs) After identifying the bank that could take care of the need for cash, I spoke with a teller explaining what I wanted to do. The teller told me to sit and wait and that I needed to speak with the manager. So, there I sat waiting. After a good amount of time, I sat down with the manager and explained what I needed again. He in turn told me to sit down and wait again. As I was sitting there the manager, in Kiswahili, was talking loudly to the folks in the bank. In Swahili, he was saying how stupid I looked and how he was going to make me wait all day before processing the transaction. Upon hearing what was going on, I listened to some more insults, but I decided to sit there a little longer. Then I got up and went to the manager and in my best Kiswahili asked “how much longer will I have to wait until you do your job”. As it dawned on him that I understood what he had been saying, the smug smile on his face disappeared and he told me he would get right to it. As he got busy doing the paperwork I declared that I had lived in Tanzania and that the people there showed proper respect for their elders and guests and that I was disappointed that Kenyans in the bank did not have the same manners. In no time at all I had the cash I needed and was out the door.
The final stressful situation I faced was at the Nairobi airport. Because of our route home, we had to re-check our bags again for the Nairobi to JFK section of our trip home. When we checked in with the international airline, Joe and I were informed that we were only allowed one checked bag each. Since we were checking in the duffle bag with our camping gear and clothes and the two bags that held the Klepper we were one bag over the limit. So, okay, how much to check in another piece of baggage? After some weighing and measuring we were informed that it would cost approximately $1500.00! Despite showing our tickets and bag stubs from our trip over when we did not have to pay any additional costs the check-in folks could not have cared less. It was going to be $1500 or leave a bag. As we were standing there trying to make our case, another passenger in line approached us and said that he didn't have any checked luggage and that he would be happy to check-in our third piece with him. This seemed to be a workable solution and, after checking in to the flight, the gentleman handed over the baggage claim. Needless to say, God bless the guy for helping us out.
Once we arrived back in the States and cleared through U.S. Immigration and Customs, we gathered our belongings and Joe caught a flight home to Jackson Hole, arriving about 10 days before his wedding. I spent a few days back east before catching a plane to Jackson Hole and meeting a friend there who would drive me back to Olympia after Joe’s wedding.
And thus, back in the States, we ended our adventure of Kayaking Lake Tanganyika.
CONCLUSION
When I reflect on my life, the trip to Lake Tanganyika is certainly a highlight. However, I have been blessed and have had many incredible adventures on the waters, in the mountains, in the deserts, at work, and play. Each of my adventures has taught me something about myself and many have taught me how dumb luck and a proper attitude contribute to success.
To all my fellow intrepid adventurers, I wish you all the best. I encourage everyone to exercise your “spirit of adventure” And, as the great Martin Luther King once said: “Keep On, Keeping On”
PEACE