My perilous boat journey from Zanzibar to Dar es Salaam

I am not fond of boat or ferry rides. First, because I easily become sea sick, and second, as most regular readers of this third rate column will by now know, I am no swimmer, on account of my having grown up in the chilly sealess southern highlands of Bongoland.

Notwithstanding this reality, I have on a few occasions been forced by circumstances beyond my control, to undertake such rides.

For example, until now there was no direct way I could cross over from Dar es Salaam downtown to Kigamboni without boarding a ferry boat.

And I have always tried my best to always fly to the Spice Islands - Zanzibar. However there have, again, been cases where there was no way out other than going there by boat. Luckily these are few.

One of the cases, and it happens to be the most memorable one and the first, was a boat ride from Zanzibar to Dar, sometimes in the early 80s. Then, I was the PR guy with the then Tanzania Tourist Corporation. I and my immediate boss, Amant Macha, then director of marketing, were assigned to escort an Italian marketing magnate, who was planning to put Bongoland on the world tourism map by promoting its unique tourist attractions. He and his photographer wife were also running and managing an international travel trade magazine.

We flew from Dar to the isles on an Air Tanzania flight. Two days later and after finishing our mission there, we could not get a flight back to Dar, thanks to the then unreliable Air Tanzania.

But then our Corporation had, among others, a water sports subsidiary company, Seafaris operating out of Kunduchi Beach Hotel and Mafia Island Lodge.

Wanting to impress our guests, who had an international connecting flight in Dar, we called the Seafaris management in Dar who dispatched a boat to Zanzibar to pick us up.

On a pleasant, calm Sunday morning, around 9 am, we set sail from the shores of those magnificent islands. We were a joyful lot and had plenty on our boat, including hard and soft drinks and plenty of lagers, as well as a variety of mouth watering snacks.

Our skipper informed us that it would take roughly three hours to reach Dar and should sit back and enjoy the scenic ride. We settled down enjoying our drinks and snacks, joyfully greeting several fishermen on boats as we calmly cruised by.

An hour or so into our ride things dramatically changed. Dark clouds suddenly blanketted the sky followed by heavy rain and monster waves striking our boat. The boat’s cream canvas roof was soon ripped off and we were left at the mercy of the cold elements. Naturally we got soaked wet from torso to toe.

The sea became very rough with the monster waves, up to 30 or so meters high, throwing up our ten meters high boat and plunging it down in the stormy sea. We all became seasick and threw up all the alcohol and bites we had consumed earlier.

It did not help matters when the skipper worriedly informed us that he had never experienced such a storm in the whole history of his crossing the channel.

Our boat was now dangerously rocking and tumbling up and down in the dark and stormy sea. The skipper switched off the boat engine, saying that it was dangerous to forcefully cut through the moster waves.

The freezing cold now forced all of us to slump on top of the still warm hood of the boat engine. But as the engine was now off, it soon became an exercise in futility. It then crossed my mind that we still had plenty of whisky aboard. I do recall thinking that guzzling down a lot of this stuff would warm my body, and if this should be the end of my short life, then let it end on a whisky happy note.

I wobbled my way to the liquor cabinet and I think I finished a whole bottle before switching my body lights off.

I regained consciousness on a stretcher being carried from the boat on low tide waters to the bright lights of the Kunduchi Beach Hotel.

Apparently, the Seafaris management had become worried after the boat failed to arrive as scheduled. It, therefore, dispatched rescue teams which, after three or so hours spotted our boat stranded about three knots off the coast. We had spent seven whole hours at sea.

Needless to say I spent two whole days on bed at the Kunduchi Hotel halucinating and recuperating from the hung-overed sea ordeal.

I vividly recalled this incident this week after a long lost Batswana friend contacted me requesting that I escort him to Zanzibar. Coming from a landlocked country, with no sea experience, he insisted that we travel there by boat. I have no alternative but to undertake the mission and relive the sea experience. Naturally I am apprehensive.