Tazara Railway

This is the train that links Zambia (some place) to Dar es Salam, Tanzania.

This is the train that I took. I caught it in Mbeya, the border town of Tanzania.

This is the story about Lauren and the train.

Departure time: Wednesday at 2pm.

On Tuesday night I started getting sick. Nauseous. Achy. I was nervous. Two people in the last week, whom I had known, had come down with malaria. I slept early and awoke a bit nauseous but fine.

Matt, my travelling companion whom I met in Nkhata bay and whom had bought my ticket in advance, and I got on a dala dala (a minibus taxi/chappa) at about 12:24 and arrived at the t\station at about 1pm. We met another group of wazungu (white people/tourists/foreigners) and they told us they had been told that the train was delayed until 4pm. We settled down. I was feeling fragile. I dozed on the train bench.

Then a few more wazungu strolled by to tell us that they'd heard a little birdie say it was delayed until 5pm. Ah, we thought, that is okay.

A few minutes later an official chalk board was brought out with an apology (Pole) that the train was delayed until 7pm. Ah, officially we knew when we were going to leave.

7pm came and went.

At about 8pm the chalk board was put away.

We waited.

By this time I was feeling pretty horrible. I was nauseous and sore (pole). People started bedding down for the night. I unrolled my sleeping mat (thank you Aunty Pam), put on my seriously warm jacket and pillowed my head with my tent. I took a pain killer, pulled my handbag and backpack in close to me and thought, okay, this is okay, I can wait out the train for a few more hours.

I dosed off in a haze of nausea and music in my ears.

Suddenly there was excitement. Oh God, the train was coming. I flew up, rolled up, packed up. Then we were told it was a false alarm. Pole.

I was pretty low by then. The toilets were revolting by now. The train was 10 hours late.

I couldn't sleep. Eventually I tossed fitfully from 1.30 until 3. My lowest was 3-3.30. The train station was filled with people sprawled everywhere. We looked like refugees. The train station by now stank of toilet. Which did nothing for my stomach.

But then...

At about 3.45 I heard a.. sound. A sound that may very possibly have been a very far distant train hoot. But then I heard it again and I realised it was the toilet door. I watched a man sitting opposite me and he seemed to be... watching. I heard the sound again.

This time I sat up. I was trying not to hope.

And then we heard a man say and train and oh God we couldn't believe our ears. We packed and rolled and held onto each other so that we wouldn't loose the other (It was supposed to be Matt, an Irish couple and myself. The Irish couple did not turn up, as we later learnt they had been hit by severe viral bugs. So one of the tickets went to another singleton traveller whom we met at the station, Nemome).

Matt, then Nemone, then me. Hobbling out to the platform.

We were broken by then. A hard floor, a cold hard floor, noise and false hope. It was all I could do to hold myself up with my backpack and my handbag hanging off me. It was 4.15am.

Thank God for Matt. He made us laugh and generally kept our spirits up. I'd have left long before if it had not been for him. Nemone agrees.

At 4.25am the train lights shone on us for the first time. We shuffled to the first class compartments (R140) and Nemone and I had to be pulled up, so exhausted were we.

At 5am we lay down in out beds and the train shunted forward to begin our trip to Dar.

The end?

No.

At 7.30 (after waking 3 times at each stop) I woke up shivering so hard that I couldn't keep my teeth still. This is it, I thought, Malaria. I am going to die on this train. I roused Nemone and she put all my warn stuff on me. I fell asleep only to awake at about 10ish drenched in sweat. I peeled everything off again and slept until 11.30.

I awoke feeling fragile. But alive. This lasted briefly. Then began the proper meaty part of travellers diarrohea. I shall leave it at that. And the closest toilet was in the next carriage (the only in ours was for wee-wee only, said the dragon lady-in-charge of our cabin, who waved dirty mops at us and guarded the toilet).

Thank, thank thank the sweet God for giving me Matt and Nemone as my travel companions. They spoke to me, assured me that I would get passed this. And they made sure that I had a steady supply of Ginger Nut biscuits, the only thing that I could stomach for 36 hours.

On Friday morning at 6am we arrived in Dar es Salam. Staggering and still not really believing that this "adventure" had terminated in its proper place, we fell out the carriage and made out way to a taxi. Matt and Nemone helped me get to the place where we were staying. They bought me water.

It is now Saturday and the first day that I feel vaguely human again. I didn't get to experience the restaurant cart on the train, or see the views.

But thank God for travelling companions!