Traveling Through East Africa…by Ayana Haaruun

In Kenya and Tanzania—home to Mount Kilimanjaro, Indian Ocean beaches, the Serengetti, and traces of some of the oldest human settlements—I witnessed the true beauty and diversity of Africa and its cultures. A popular destination for safaris and wildlife observation, East Africa’s nature has been widely documented in Western media.  My travels confirmed and negated many of the preconceived ideas I’d received from National Geographic and coffee table photography books.

After a series of long bus rides north from South Africa, I was happy to arrive in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania.  Hosted by a Tanzanian friend from Howard University, Dar es Salaam was not as picturesque as I expected. Although it’s a large, bustling city, it didn’t seem to have a strong infrastructure. There were signs of new development and many tall brick buildings however, I didn’t see any concrete sidewalks, the roads were poor, and there was no evidence of a waste removal system. Nevertheless, at the “family compound” where I stayed, exotic flowers, banana trees, and a tall surrounded the large area, brick wall.  I was happy to stay in the guest home and have my laundry washed by male domestic workers.

Soon, I noticed the differences between East Africa and southern Africa.  Throughout Tanzania, the culture met more of my “authentically” African expectations, but also seemed more conservative.  Most women were dressed in traditional clothing—long printed dresses or skirts with matching head coverings.  And, although men wore Western clothing, many were dressed in Islamic robes.

In East Africa, the Middle Eastern influence in quite pronounced.  Geographically close to Middle Eastern nations, a long history of trade has occurred across the Indian Ocean.  Correspondingly, many Tanzanians and Kenyans are Muslims. With significant populations of Indians and Arabs, many people had redder skin tones and Semitic features. In addition, Swahili, the language spoken across Central and East Africa, is a mixture of Bantu languages and Arabic.

By afternoon, my Tanzanian friends took me to a pizza restaurant for dinner.  Because my friends had lived in the U.S., I was able to relax my British English pronunciation, and speak in ebonics, which no one else seemed to understand. Later the same evening, we visited a beach side restaurant.  Entering the outdoor area at night, I smelled the water, and ran to the beach.  Palm trees, white sand, and warm water is what I’d been longing for since I arrived in Africa.

We ended the evening watching a Tupac performance on a projected screen, and sharing in a heartfelt discussion about how inspirational Tupac’s music was to our generation.  “‘Pac inspired us to be “self-made millionaires,” my Tanzanian friends proclaimed.

Whether listening to Kanye West in rural South Africa; seeing 50 Cent’s face on T-shirts in Mozambique; hearing Usher on a cell phone ring tone in a Kenyan village with no running water; or watching Creflo Dollar on television in a Malawi hotel—it’s been comforting to know that no matter where I’ve gone in Africa, I can find African American culture.   

Up the coast of the Indian Ocean, I also visited Mombassa, Kenya.  In both Tanzania and Kenya I saw people from the famed Maasai tribe. Dressed in traditional Maasai clothing—layers of colorful fabric wrapped across their bodies, Maasai men carried traditional weapons strapped to their sides. On the street in Mombassa, I met a group of Maasai men.  In awe that I was hanging out with real Maasai people—whom I’d only seen in National Geographic, I listened intently to their stories about stringent initiation and cattle dowries. While one young man explained how he’d killed a lion using traditional weapons as a teenager, I watched his friend remove his cell phone from the “Bermuda” shorts he wore under his traditional wrap.  While holding a cell phone up to his stretched earlobe, he gave me his email address and phone number.

Across the road, I met a group of Kenyan rastafarians.  Through my journey, I’ve seen dreadlocked rastafarians in every African country I’ve visited. Speaking a poor Jamaican accent, one Kenyan Rastafarian asked that I mail him a copy of “The Autobiography of Malcolm X”.  I happily agreed.

What I didn’t see in National Geographic, was the significant number of white people living in East Africa.  At a chic beach side restaurant with sexy lighting, and white fabric draped across small sofas, I felt like I was in Cancun, Mexico.  The restaurant was filled with English speaking white people, typing on their laptop computers.  Later on at an upscale hotel bar, I saw more white men, many of who were accompanied by multiple young, African ladies, who seemed to be trading “favors” for money.

I learned that most of the white people I saw were Europeans, Canadians, and Americans who work for mining corporations that extract Tanzania’s gold, diamonds or petroleum. Across Africa, its been quite saddening to see that Europeans and North Americans, continue to control and build wealth from the vast resources of poor African nations.