The day I was trying to avoid 3 weeks ago that not only happened on my birthday but extended for most of the week...
The long and short of it is that the extension of my tourist visa for a month that I and Johnson (orphanage dad) had been told by immigration people would be a free piece of cake and take an hour became a huge process that had
me running between buses, calling in friends of friends, standing outside locked gates, waiting for hours and refusing to pay bribes. Johnson had written me a letter in support of the extension but apparently it was too complex and I was to return the next day with a simplified version.
However, it seems it all become to hard for Johnson and he absolved himself of any responsibilities meaning I would be starting the whole process alone and I just really couldn't be bothered.
All this of course would be expected when thinking of any sort of government process in Africa but the fact that I was continually reassured it wouldn't be the case and that it all happened on my birthday,the expiry date of my visa made it all a bit worse.
So, I am now typing this to you as an illegal within Tanzania and will spend the rest if my day geting my shit packed to head to Kenya on Friday. I was told by the regional imigration officer (who started all this by claiming he had never heard of a tourist visa exension)that as long as I'm at the Kenyan border within a week they won't mind that my visa has already expired (????!!!!) He of course said there is nothing he can provide me with to take to support me so I think i will try and get his number for possible border troubles...
All in all it was a bit of a frustrating and odd day including Dad spelling my name wrong and getting pineapple in my woldorf salad - it's not a savory ingredient people!!! - but it ended ok with us eating chips and chocolate, and making fairy bread and iced biscuit lolly faces. I also had a night out on the weekend with mates drinking and dancing and Denis and his family bought my a yummy cake which i finished off at 5am and woke up with a tummy ache. That also happened on Tuesday night after eating junk food. I think my body had detoxed from eating simple unprocessed foods for 3 months!
I made it to Mombasa, which seems a really nice city on first impressions - nicer than dar Es Salaam - and my border crossing was a nervous exerience but with the best result I could hope for.
A heartbroken and confused middle aged lady that came to the orpahnage a few days before my leaving seemed to trasnfer a bit of her misfortune onto me as after deciding that heading for the border was the best plan, she decided to come with me to Mombasa (where she had just arrived from - yes, a very lost lady). So we bought tickets for Thursday morning and organised an early taxi pickup, whcih failed to show up. On calling a second taxi and several motorbikes that didn't come either we were extremely anxious and pleading with the bus conductor by phone to wait for us at the local stop. What followed was a taxi rally drive (when it finally showed) and a high speed chase (only about 90km/h) down the highway trying to catch the bus who couldn't wait any longer. Alas we missed it.
Daniella's (german lady) desparation to get back to kenya had us contemplating all sorts of connecting buses to leave the same day but as I had decided to sacrifice going to a concert of my favourite Tanzanian hip hopper to get to the border asap, I took it as sign I was meant to attend and opted to book a bus for the next day and try again. Daniella decided to head stratight for nairobi and the airport for a flight home, which i prefrred also as her story, although unfotunate and tragic and i am sympathetic, dominated her converstaion and seemed to be affecting my feelings and fortunes also.
Catching the bus from the main station in town after the concert the night before, the taxi driver who did the high speed chase for us the day before promised to be on time the next morning so Tamara (Sydney girl) could bring my luggage to our local stop for me to get on the way through. About 20 minutes from that stop she called me to say the driver hadn't turned up and after numerous failed motorbike pickups, my bags were now on the back of the nieghbours bicycle in the pouring rain. It was a nervous 20 minutes to the stop not knowing if my bags were going to be there or not and I might have to abort my border mission yet again but thankfully they were there and I was glad to be out of there leaving a bad week behind me with just the hurdle to the border crossing to go.
Denis had advised me to head for a male immigartion officer when exiting Tanzania but unfortunately I got a female and once she notice my visa had expired 5 days before hand she referred me too her boss who was also female, so charms were put aside and story telling began with the threat of a $US400 fine looming.
The long and short of it was that I tried to convince them my visa was set to be extended until a plethora of compeltely differnt advice was received, inlcuding that I should not have been at the orphanage on a tourist visa at all and being told by the regional immigation boss that if I got to the border within a week of it's expiry, it wouldn't be a problem. Ha! With a bit of help from the pressure of the bus condutor wanting us to keep going, the disgruntled ladies stamped my passport and flicked it back to me disapprovingly. I was humble in my thanks and feel pretty sure they havn't backlisted me for future return.
So now I've been enjoying some fine hospitality from a couch surfer and his family with 2 cute babies (slight compensation for my vacated position of Summer's (Emily's baby) aunty), even providing some advice about options for managing the flow of water that floods their land in the wet.
