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Perils of travel to Mafia: A personal experience
2008-01-27 19:41:12
By Langael Sangito
A dhow takes eight days to reach Mafia Island from Dar es Salaam Harbour, a voyage that would normally be accomplished in 12 hours.
It was because of the rough seas caused by what people well versed in winds call Southerlies that had created all the havoc.
Hit by wave
Compelled by duty I had to board the dhow. The destination was Kisiju in Mafia Island.
After staying for so long in the unfriendly waters we were suddenly hit by a deafening wave that tore the sail. The mast holding the sail broke into three pieces.
``If you find you can no longer hold onto the boat, you open any one of those ice containing drums and place yourself on top of it.
It might save you,`` a seasoned sailor in the dhow advised us, adding fuel to our uncontrollable fears.
Nasty experience
It was not my first trip to Mafia from Dar es Salaam by boat, but this one was my first nasty experience.
It was during the heavy rain season and I had been assigned by my employer to take a consignment of medicines and four generators to the island.
The trip started at 1 am. We had already spent nine hours seated in the dhow at Dar es Salaam. The sailing was at first smooth and actually by dawn we spotted an island about a kilometre away.
``Hooray, we are soon arriving at our destination,`` remarked a fellow passenger, joyful of the morning bright light that brought with it a special kind of sensation to our bad mood following the delay at Dar port.
Then as if the passenger`s overwhelmed excitement provoked the sea spirits, came the unpredictable! Suddenly waves of highly unpunctuated intervals hit our vessel, bringing with them salty waters that filled the deck.
The ten sailors in the dhow had a hard time scooping out the waters using buckets to steady the vessel which was rocking terribly.
For the first time in my life I knew what being close to death meant. I vomited, just like many of my colleagues. I was completely empty. It was by sheer providence that we came out alive.
Later after reaching safety we were told that it was the southerly winds which disrupted our voyage aboard the dhow.
Use of cellular phone Incidentally, it was an old man who lives on a small island that has three coconut trees who came to our rescue.
The old man climbed atop one of the trees, used his cellular telephone linked through Kilwa Kivinje transmission booster to call for help.
For the next seven day, we struggled to survive. The sail had gone and we now relied on a small outboard engine, which also quickly ran out of fuel. We simply floated aimlessly at the mercy of the Indian Ocean waters.
Finally help came. Small patrol boats had come to save us, following the old man\'s phone call and we were immensely relieved to arrive in Mafia.
I was completely worn out, and as if that was not enough food was not available anywhere after 2 pm. Biscuits and soft drinks served as our dinner until the following morning.
The return trip was just as eventful, although this time it was on a chartered light aircraft. Instead of covering the distance in 31 minutes, we did it in 61, almost twice the time.
The pilot had minced no words. He said at the airstrip that his plane could not take more than one person, only me. That was because of the rough weather, said the pilot with 29 years of experience!
After the take- off
Hardly a few minutes after take-off the plane looked like it had lost control of its own bearings.
It had lost strength to climb to the required altitude which was also under bad weather. The plane would come down almost to touch the seawater, draining me of any further hope of life.
The pilot kept asking me to pray, and from the air control in Dar es Salaam the pilot was directed to try either Kilwa Masoko aerodrome which we found was a muddy patch or go back to Mafia airstrip.
No way, the pilot remarked, seeking his bearings to Dar es Salaam.Another mishap. The plane\'s undercarriage refused to open.
I was now sweating feverishly as the experienced pilot made several failed attempts to land at the Mwalimu Nyerere International airport.
He also refused suggestions by the control tower to fly over the sea to empty the tanks in preparation for a crash landing.
We circled Kisarawe for some time before a miracle happened. The undercarriage responded and tyres descended from their hold. We landed safely.
The pilot summoned his car to take him home abandoning a planned Zanzibar trip.
I got out of the plane feeling completely disoriented. I literally knelt on the tarmac and prayed. I phoned my boss with the snap message:
I’ll not be in the office for five days. And upon reaching home, I bought bus tickets for my entire family to travel to my home region Arusha to forget the past, and of course thanking God for saving my life.
Langael Sangito is a civil servant and a regular reader of the Guardian on Sunday
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