Daladalas and Ngaramtoni Market

Having had such a great day with Faraja the previous day, I enlisted his guide services again. He promised to take me out to Ngaramtoni Market, a Masaai market about 20km outside of the city (very distinct from "the Masaai Market" of Arusha tourist fame). This market only happens on Sundays, and Masaai from all around bring their livestock here to sell them. Faraja said that some walk, shepherding their goats, sheep, or cows, for up to two days to get them to Ngaramtoni Market.

The trip started with a half hour ride aboard a daladala. This was so fun and exciting it could have been the main purpose of the trip, and I would have been happy. Daladalas are large vans - essentially buses. However, they are privately run, and anyone who has the money for one, and doesn't mind driving around all day, can start their own daladala. The owners decorate them how they see fit, covering them with decals and stickers - although there seems to be three reoccurring themes of daladala decoration: football teams (Arsenal, Manchester United), American rappers (Tupac, Rick Ross), or religion (Jesus loves you).

There is a real chaos to daladalas. First of all, there are no bus stops. The daladalas just drive along the highways. If you want one, you flag it over. What this means is a constant shift between full-throttle foot on the gas speeding, and sudden halting stops as the daladala pulls over to pick someone up. Daladalas are run by two people: in addition to the driver, there is also a guy who sits in the first row of seats, on the same side as the curb, generally leaning out of the daladala to his waste. If you want in, you flag this guy down. He slams his hand onto the side of the van twice, and the driver throws on the breaks. Once you are aboard, or at least mostly aboard, he again slaps the side of the van, often while only holding on from the outside, and scrambles back in, shutting the door.

There are also no schedules, and there are only marginally what I would call 'routes.' The daladalas go back and forth between the bus station (which is really just a giant parking lot in the middle of Arusha) and a certain place, the name of which will be printed in small letters on the hood of the van. And, of course, daladalas are packed! They are jammed full of people. The vans probably hold 10 people, but they don't let this constrain them. People squish together, climb over each other, sit contorted and sideways. Men, women, children, luggage, baggage, baskets. I think I actually saw a kid holding a chicken get onto one of the daladalas I was on. They are crazy. Despite this, they are actually a pretty good, cheap, and fun way to get around - there are so many of them operating that you never need to wait too long for one to come along. At 300 Tsh, they are a bargain.

After getting off the daladala, Faraja and I took an hour or so hike down a road to Kilimonto Crater. Every five minutes we passed a group of Masaai hearding their goats or cows in the opposite direction, towards the market. The crater itself used to be a volcano that, fifty or so years ago, blew it self up. It is now a giant pit now that local herders take their cattle to to graze in. The herders (a group of boys ranging from 5 to 15 years old) hang out during the day on the crater rim, playing soccer on a scenic little pitch.

Faraja and I then hoped aboard another daladala, and headed back towards Ngaramtoni Market. The Market has two halves. The first is similar to the Arusha Central Market, where people come and set up stalls, or put down blankets on a patch of ground, and sell anything and everything - Masaai blankets, fruit, dried corn, not-dried corn, bananas, kitenges, kangas, Masaai sandals made from old motorcycle tires, used clothing, and everything else you can imagine. Chaos then ensues, as thousands of people stroll through with bikes, carts, bags, and even cars. The colours of the kangas and Masaai blankets and fruit make it a beautiful site.

On the opposite side of the highway is the part of Ngaramtoni Market where Masaai come to sell their livestock. The way it works is basically this: you bring your goats or cows or whatever, and stand next to them in this large dusty field. The people who buy the livestock then stroll around, and if they like what they see, negotiate a deal. It is a little terrifying, particularly in the part where all of the cows are just mulling around - some of the bulls are giant, and when they look at you, and you see their horns, or when they make a loud and angry-sounding sound, it is hard not to picture some sort of stampede or skewering.

I had a late lunch at a roadside restaurant that was another authentic local culinary experience. They didn't have a menu, or speak English, but Faraja explained that they have either 'beef with rice' or 'chicken with rice.' I opted for chicken with rice. It was good (particularly the carrots - there is something about the carrots here - they are so delicious), but again very different from the usual tourist food. Pascal told me once that there is a difference between 'city chicken' and 'village chicken.' I was a little confused at the time, and ended up coming to the conclusion that city chicken was what tourists eat (village chicken, he swears, is better). What I had here, I'm pretty sure, was village chicken, and didn't really taste like the chicken I'm used to.

It was another great day of Cultural Tourism and another one that felt really authentic. I didn't see another Mzungu (white tourist) anywhere the whole day - which made the whole thing that much more special. I was sad to part ways with Faraja at the end of the day, as I had essentially spent the whole weekend with him, but I will recommend him highly to anyone else I meet who is looking for a bit more off-the-beaten-path trip around Arusha.