Seven Days Turned Twelve — and Changed Everything

Oh, do I have a story to tell...

Yes, you will get to hear the tale about Mount Kilimanjaro, but first, I have to explain why I was unreachable for 12 days instead of seven.

We safely came down from Kilimanjaro, knowing that elections would be held the next day in Tanzania. We didn’t think much of it — maybe expected a couple of protesters. So I started working on my computer, catching up with emails and messages, when suddenly the internet went off. But not only the café’s internet — everyone’s mobile data as well, which was very strange.

We waited and waited; an hour later, still nothing. We got talking to the baristas in the café, who told us it was probably intentional. They also mentioned we couldn’t pay by card because there was no internet. But we only had euros with us.

Shoutout to the absolutely incredible Tanzanians who blindly trusted us when we told them the exchange rate and accepted our euros. Moreover, they offered to take us back to our hotel, as we were unable to call a taxi.

No harm, no foul, we thought — reading a book, assuming the internet would surely come back later on. Except it didn’t. We were just eating when an English couple came back with all their bags, saying: “All flights are cancelled.” But we were only due to fly on Friday, and it was Wednesday, so all good — or so we thought.

Well, that Friday was nothing short of chaotic. Still no internet. Hotel staff were talking about a civil war, the military was on the streets, everything was still closed, and apparently, there was a curfew — but we had no access to anything but rumours.

We headed to the airport, where instant chaos awaited us. We stood in the check-in line for three hours, everyone having to do things the old-school way — writing on papers, crossing names out. Only to be told at the gate: “Sorry, the flight is overbooked. You’ll leave with the next flight seven hours from now — which we actually have no information about, only that it’s supposed to fly.”

That was the point when I decided to call the embassy, asking if it was even a good idea to fly from Kilimanjaro Airport to Zanzibar, which is still in Tanzania. The embassy said: “No, get a flight out of the country immediately.” Which was lovely advice indeed — except every single flight out of the country from Kilimanjaro Airport was full.

By some miracle, the gate agent called our names again and said we would be able to fit on the flight, so we left some angry Germans behind and boarded the flight to Zanzibar.

Again, instant chaos awaited us. The embassy called back, saying: “Stay in Zanzibar Airport and book an outbound flight.” If only that had been easy — with no internet access or cash on hand. Mind you, ATMs and card payments don’t work without internet either. So, with nothing better to do, I called my sister to contact my insurance and somehow try to book a flight for me. We went to our accommodation in Zanzibar as it was already starting to get dark. Oh, and in the meantime, they had lost my luggage — which was lovely — but after all, it was just full of dirty clothes from climbing Kilimanjaro.

Our host turned out to be an absolute icon — ordering food for us and saying, “Oh, it’ll all be just fine, vibe with it.” Which advice I would have loved to be able to take.

And this is where I have to note: Tanzanians give you everything when they have nothing to give from. As we ran out of cash and no ATMs or card payments worked, we had no means of paying her. She said that’s okay and proceeded to pay for our lunch, took us back to the airport, and as we said farewell, she blindly trusted that we’d transfer her the money as soon as we could.

After long calls with the insurance company, the embassy, and my sister, the next day we had the last two seats on an outbound flight. And I’m very sad to report that as I’m writing this, I’m somewhere above Germany, about to land in Amsterdam — but all safe and reunited with my luggage.

I didn’t just leave a piece of my heart in Tanzania — I think I left a part of my soul there. I will return the moment they lift the travel warnings, as I was nowhere near ready to leave this country and its absolutely incredible people behind. I sincerely hope that all the amazing people we met in the country are staying safe and will be all right.

Because of cruel politics, more than 700 people have lost their lives. It is incredibly saddening, and I truly hope better days are coming for Tanzanians.

Since then, the internet has been switched back on in the country for moments here and there, and we were very glad to hear from most of our wonderful new Tanzanian friends — still crossing our fingers, hoping that all the rest of them are safe and sound as well.

With tear-filled eyes,
Patricia