Namanga: crossing the border

"D-d-d-dis is a very bump-p-p-y road-d-d." It is not recommended to try and speak on the track between the border town of Namanga and the Amboseli National Park Meshanani Gate. Especially not when your driver decides that 70 kph is quite an acceptable speed for a heavily corrugated dirt road. The windows rattle, screws come undone spontaneously and the fillings in our teeth are at serious risk of falling out. The road is some 70 kilometers long, and I fear what the abuse will do to the Microdrive disk in my digital camera.

Yet, even our local driver has to let up off the gas when we cross a dried riverbed and hop from rock to rock. The rest of us hold onto for dear life. It is the second time in three days we traverse this dirt track; today we return from Amboseli to Namanga.

Namanga is a lively town and the border post between Kenya and Tanzania

Namanga is one of those towns that are situated in two countries at the same time; the Kenyan/Tanzanian border cuts the community in two. We are going to cross the border into Tanzania. But it's not as simple as it sounds. First, we are taken to a fenced-off rest area that (surprise!) holds a souvenir shop filled with wood sculptures and soapstone statues. Here we fill out our 'exit cards' to give to the Kenyan customs, and our 'entry cards' for the Tanzanians. We also change cars.

We say goodbye to Mohamed, thank him for the experience, and meet the driver who will take us to Arusha in Tanzania. The bags are relocated, we pile into the new van, and off we go.

First stop: Kenyan emigration. Frits takes our passports and exit cards. None of us have to accompany him; the Kenyans are not that interested in people leaving. He returns in a few short minutes, and we move on.

Oy-Doinyo Orok, the sacred Maasai mountain overlooks Namanga

We pass the barrier that marks the border, and halt again at the Tanzanian immigration. Since we are now entering a new country, we are all obliged to report to the immigration officer, with our passports and health certificates (that indicate we received the proper shots).

The immigration office is exactly as one would picture an African border crossing: a small office, filled with people and goods, with an old-fashioned desk situated to one side, and everyone trying to get the appropriate stamps. The single thing that is quite different from the classic image is the heat. Or rather, lack thereof. A cool breeze enters through the windows and is augmented by the fan near the ceiling.

Everything is found in order and we are soon again on our way to Arusha.