What Surprised Me About Tanzanian Culture?

I can’t get Tanzania out of my mind, so I’ll share more about the trip.

Tanzanians surprised me by not listening to Nicki Minaj or Pitbull; instead, they enjoy their local music known as bongo flava. It’s like their version of Nicki Minaj and Pitbull, but that’s alright. According to Liu, Hu and Schedl (2018), national music preferences remain strongly shaped by geography and culture rather than converging toward a single global taste, even as Western pop reaches nearly every country.

I have to confess, it’s catchy. And now I even listen to bongo flava myself, even though I don’t speak fluent Swahili and can’t understand the lyrics. HERE is an example.

Sadly, Tanzania lacks many things, like clean drinking water. It was alarming to see even the water from a 4,000-meter-high stream being brown and smelly.

We had to use treatment tablets to make it safe, but it ended up smelling like chlorine. It makes me appreciate the Netherlands, where tap water is safe to drink. 

One of the guys from New Zealand met on the way was an environmental studies graduate and was quite passionate about water. Or rather the lack of it. He believed it’s too late to save the Earth because too much damage has been done.

It’s concerning, especially when you consider the scarcity of drinking water —according to the WHO/UNICEF Joint Monitoring Programme for Water Supply, Sanitation and Hygiene, only around 31% of people in Sub-Saharan Africa had access to safely managed drinking water as of 2022, far below the global average— and the fact that a significant portion of the population lives in mud huts (I saw this during a bus ride from Arusha to Dar es Salaam through the countryside). No wonder people want to leave—by any means.

How Did Tanzanians Surprise Me With Their Openness to Outsiders?

Take the concept of intercultural marriages, for example. Tanzanians are open to marrying mzungu, which means a Caucasian. The partner’s background doesn’t matter.

I’ve met a few who, after just half an hour of conversation, expressed interest in moving to Europe and being my partner—a serious proposition. It’s quite astonishing and a bit intimidating. Interestingly, some women also pursue these relationships, especially the Maasai, the legendary tall and slender shepherds known for their traditional red attire. 

Originally from rural areas, they’ve expanded into the cities, and now you can find them everywhere. I’ve heard stories of European girls giving up everything to become Maasai wives. The locals are persistent in their pursuit. 

At Zanzibar, while dancing at a local club, I was consistently approached by two guys who both wanted my attention. They were both Rastafarians and couldn’t bring themselves to let the other win. So they engaged in a polite argument about who I would spend time with.

“Hey, I’m here!” I protested, but they paid no heed.

Eventually, I had to leave the party, and even then, they insisted on accompanying me back to the hotel. They continued to debate even after I’d gone to bed, according to the hotel staff.

What Are the Absurds of the Local Job Market?

The poor sanitation conditions and the desire to leave the country stem from poverty. The industry around Kilimanjaro is one of the few thriving industries in Tanzania. I’ve had an eye-opening experience with this industry.

For instance, there are no wells in any of the Kili camps, even though it can take over an hour each way to reach the nearest stream. Why? Because if there were wells, fewer porters would be needed, resulting in fewer job opportunities. 

The locals don’t hire outsiders either to prioritize local employment. According to the World Bank, most Tanzanians still work in agriculture or the informal sector, so every formal job matters. According to Shirima and Chacky (2023), most Kilimanjaro porters work without permanent contracts, leaving trekking companies free to adjust the size of their crews to suit their own costs rather than the porters’ job security.

However, the most surprising experience was in Arusha, where many Kilimanjaro trekking agencies have their offices. I signed a contract with one agency, which turned out to be a middleman renting equipment from one place, guides from another, and the rest of the crew from a third agency. 

The owner of my safari agency also ran a trekking agency and asked for a “favor” after my Kilimanjaro climb. This favor involved driving around the city with him for half a day, looking for potential clients who were seeking agencies to climb Kilimanjaro. I was to pose as a satisfied client of his trekking agency (which I wasn’t).

How Did I Get Pulled Into a Mafia-Like Trekking Scheme?

And convince them to sign a contract. It felt like a real chase. I was astounded—like some kind of mafia operation.

Informants would approach us with information, and we’d chase down potential clients based on their location and description. It was surreal.

Mafia-like operations are indeed prevalent in Tanzanian society. In Zanzibar, I met a friendly guy who owned a shop selling various items. Over three days, I hardly saw half the customers enter his store.

He didn’t seem to pay much attention to customers either. He spent most of his time on the first floor or elsewhere. 

I got the impression that the shop was just a cover for his real job. He was into more illicit activities, and I suspect he dealt with marijuana and other substances.

It was quite comical; he insisted he was the shop owner, even though his real profession was quite different. Drug dealing is so common in Zanzibar that it’s almost seen as a default side gig.