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"It seems to be a world of
difference between them, once you cross the border and head into
Namanga, Kenya, everything changes." |
Adventure
in the Tanzania and Kenya Namanga's
By: Elisha Mayallah
Somethings or experiences are inexpressible, I was once told.
Photographs and videos are soulless; you can touch them or view them,
but you cannot talk to them, and only in the imagination you can tell
the story, of what happened. And then you can put words together to tell
a story.
However, this is quite different from when you decide to travel to a
destination of your choice. From the moment I sat to write this article,
I was wondering how I was going to piece together the story of the twin
towns where the cultural border is as physical as in Namanga, a border
town on the frontier of Tanzania and Kenya. You have Namanga in Tanzania
and you have Namanga in Kenya .
Nature is phenomenal and glaring at maps, sometimes, I let myself led by
the euphony of geographical names. I had studied the maps of the border
towns in East Africa. Names such as Isebania, Sirari, Malaba, Busia,
Holili and Namanga captured my imagination. I wondered how it would be
to wander around there.
Namanga, the border town, one part of it is in Tanzania, and another
part is in Kenya. It seems to be a world of difference between them,
once you cross the border and head into Namanga Kenya, everything
changes. The atmosphere, the people, the food, the tea, the language,
the signposts and so on are completely different. Once you cross into
Kenya, you enter a culture which is not only westernised than her
neighbour, but also a country where competition is a way of life.
I vividly remember the first time I arrived at Namanga, the sun was
scorching hard. The coach in which I was travelling in drove up the hill
slowly ending the two long hours I had travelled from Arusha. It was a
tremendous journey on top of crowded hawkers, Maasais, trucks, on a
small section of rough road, through the barren landscape of Northern
Tanzania.
On the way, I watched cattle grazing in open areas as the winds ripped
past my face, screaming in my ears and my cheeks getting pale white with
the cold. I listened to the overwhelming tranquillity and silence of the
tarmac road as we drove on. Apart from the stunning scenery, and
challenging off-roading, it was a pleasure to see how farming was the
norm throughout the main road.
The coach stopped in front of the border and I clambered down. Nearly
twenty years had passed since the first time I had arrived in Nairobi
through Namanga, where I spent some time with a Kenyan family. I stood
at the border where my adventure in Kenya had kicked off for real.
A few metres across the border I was at the Kenyan Immigration office
clearing my travelling documents. Luckily enough my luggage was not
unloaded with my stuff stalled on a table and examined – as was the case
with our friends who were crossing into Tanzania!
The sprawling Namanga town exists of a few houses and shops where daily
business is conducted to both residents and transiting passengers. Near
the Kenyan Immigration office a few shops are always busy selling
groceries, toiletries and changing money. In one of the shops I saw a
stately man of Somali origin selling Khat rolls, one of the famed
businesses at the border.
A bunch of people both young and old swayed me, trying to change money,
trying to sell me Khat and curios. I tried to ignore them but they were
exceedingly persistent.
The behaviour of the people was the first feature that seemed to differ
from the Tanzania Namanga.
Walking on the street seemed to be different as it had been in Tanzania,
in the simple way that attracted more attention. Some people yelled at
me: Change! Change!' Especially young men, a behaviour I hadn't
encountered in Tanzania before. I wondered why the relaxation at Namanga
in Tanzania made way for such intrusiveness of certain people from
Namanga Kenya.
I sank away in a state of reflection as I waited in the coach patiently
to head off to Nairobi. I was seated there intensely watching the scene.
I wished I was able to grab that moment, hold it and never let it go,
but I couldn't. This might sound cliché but more than ever it appeared
to me how places and people can change in a fraction of minutes and
metres.
Clouds drifted over the horizons near the hills. Slowly it was getting
to be afternoon with the day's only memory was left to linger in the
mind. I braced myself never to forget that place, hoping to return there
one day. I still yearn for that sky, for that air, for that world where
every creature played its part in the great unfolding everlasting tale
that's nature.
The one hour spent at the Namangas, breathing the atmosphere of a place
I would describe it as a cultural crossroad which was truly
breathtaking. Some few minutes later as our driver revved up the engine,
I realized that soon this day would be a memory, and that the Namangas
would be a memory!
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