Awake. Alive. Phew. Still short of breath. Minimal sleep, early alarm call and another long day of travelling to come. The lights keep going out at breakfast. Either a power cut or someone leaning on the light switch.
Shuttle to airport and Ugandan businessman mentions to driver he needs the old domestic terminal. He explains that all flights to East Africa depart from the old terminal. Not the shiny new-ish terminal a few hundred metres away. It’s only because of his advice that I end up at the correct terminal…..as do the other occupants of the bus.
Full scale security search. Have to walk through the scanner three times as it keeps beeping.
Boots. Beep. Belt. Beep. Watch (even though it’s a plastic Swatch). Pass through beep free. What a faff. And that’s just to enter the terminal building. Which is indeed shabby. Its one redeeming feature being that it isn’t busy unlike the melee in the international terminal.
Only booked this flight about 10 days ago due to re-routing caused by Egypt & Sudan. Was meant to be flying Addis Ababa-Nairobi-overnight train to Mombasa-flight to Zanzibar. A sleepless night on a crummy train didn’t appeal (been there, seen it, done it) so flying direct to Mombasa. Only after booking did I realise there’s a stop at Kilimanjaro. Incredibly expensive tickets so bought Economy class. For a few nights after buying the ticket I was having nightmares and restless nights dreaming about this flight. Premonition perhaps?
Don’t fancy a scheduled (and I use the term scheduled for a particular reason) 4hrs cramped in Economy.
Have a plan. Ethiopian Airways and Lufthansa are Star Alliance members. Used to fly Lufthansa every week and so attained the dizzy heights of “Frequent Traveller”. Have a shiny silver card. Present passport and silver card to check in and ask that as I am a Star Alliance member with shiny silver card would it be at all possible to have an upgrade. Pretty please. Nice smile. And with that am upgraded to Business Class. Taurean charm you see. Back in my natural habitat.
Secondary X-ray for departure gate and have to practically undress to pass through the scanner. Flight scheduled to depart 1020hrs. 30min delay announced at 1000hrs “as aircraft had a delayed departure incoming”. 1040hrs jump on shuttle bus. 1100hrs shuttle bus trundles to aircraft. There are a lot of technicians scurrying around. Some around the landing gear with spanners and stuff. Some up a scissor lift under the wing.
Some standing around doing nothing. Some pointing. And to top it all off. Fluid leaking from the fuselage. Remember the premonition?! Board and thankful for the upgrade. Acres of space to spread out. Could have a game of footie there’s so much space. Unlike cramped Economy.
1130hrs and still going nowehere. Lots of technicians running to cockpit and back as champagne is quaffed. Five technicians on a scissor lift. One has a grease gun lubricating various points under the wing. The other four looking on. Five more technicians on the ground looking up pointing at wing. Wafting of arms aplenty.
Finally. 1145hrs technicians clear the scissor lift out of the way and aircraft pushed back. That’s about 1.5hrs delay.
It’s a hard life. This is the third day running of champagne, G&T, red wine and port.
It’s becoming a nasty habit this drinking at altitude. As everyone knows….the difference between drunks and alcoholics……us drunks don’t go to meetings.
Fly past Mount Kilimanjaro – the summit just visible through the clouds clinging to the sides of the mountain. American couple come to my window to gaze at the view and take photos. Ask if they’re off to climb it. “No, not this time.” is the reply.
Land at Kilimanjaro airport 1400hrs. It’s small. Very small. Scheduled stop of 1hr but as we’re running late they’ll speed things up won’t they. Ho ho ho.
Meant to be landing in Mombasa at 1440hrs. This was to give 2hrs 40mins wait before connecting flight to Zanzibar at 1720hrs. It’s now 1400hrs. We’ll make up the time. Won’t we. Soon apparent that we won’t. There’s yet another technical problem with the aircraft. Tehnicians running to cockpit and back to underneath aircraft. Keep being told that we’ll be leaving soon and they laugh when I say my Zanzibar flight is at 1720hrs. No problem they say. We’ll be leaving soon. Of course you’ll make your flight. No problem. Don’t worry. Be happy. Remember that premonition?!
Sit on the tarmac for 2hrs 15mins!!! Cockpit light takes that long to fix.
It’s now 1615hrs. Flight to Zanzibar at 1720hrs. 35min flying time to Mombasa. Allow for taxi – take off – land – taxi – shuttle bus – queue – passport control – customs – check in – customs – passport control – it’s not looking good is it.
Google Mombasa airport – it looks like it’s a big international airport. This isn’t going to happen. Contingency planning. Hire a helicopter? Bribe an official to bypass everything? Just make a run across the tarmac to the aircraft and sod the consequences? Overnight in Mombasa and fly tomorrow? What if no seats available? Fly direct to Dar Es Salaam and miss Zanzibar?
Fly past Kilimanjaro mountain again. Too busy thinking about contingencies to take it in. Land at Mombasa and touch down at 1650hrs. Resigned to the fact that I’ve now missed the Zanzibar flight. Gutted. Fed up. They’ll be on the shuttle bus to board their flight by now.
In this big international airport.
And then.
I see this big international airport terminal building.
It’s a shed.
GAME ON!
This is just possible.
There are four air bridges. Praying we have an air bridge. We do. Dock at 1655hrs. 25mins to go. Ethiopian stewardess opens the door and tells ground crew that I urgently need to catch a 1720hrs flight. Small woman with radio leaps into action. Except no one is replying to her call backs. She’s under 5 feet tall. We walk very slowly. Almost scoop her up and run with her. But it’s too hot for all that.
Come on. Come on. Chop chop. Can’t you walk any faster?! Finally. Someone responds to her distress call about a distressed tall Taurean. 20mins to go. Come on. Hurry up. Down the stairs to passport control. Told I have to go through passport control – which involves buying a soddin’ visa for 5 minutes in Kenya – and check in at the Fly540 desk.
No, no, no. Don’t have time for all that you silly woman. Check in will be closed now. Flight will be about to taxi now. Bugger. So near. So far.
Hand passport to Immigration officer. She explains about my flight. I don’t want to enter Kenya. I just want to GET ON THIS FLIGHT THAT’S LEAVING NOW!!! Immigration officer disappears with passport. Now where’s he gone. Told by his colleague to stay put. Don’t like people in authority wandering off with my passport. It’s invariably bad news. He returns. Explain again in distressed tones that I don’t want to enter Kenya I just want to transit to Zanzibar on the flight that has now probably left! Grrrrr. More grrrrr.
Calmly told to wait over there and someone will come. Oh yeah? Who? Father Christmas?!! You don’t understand sunshine. My flight is leaving now.
Anxious wait. And wait. Come on. Come on. Hurry up. Impatient. Tetchy. Hot. Extremely tired. Fed up.
Until. A man in a Fly540 embroidered shirt arrives. Hello he says. Uber calm. Chilled out. Laid back. To the point of being horizontal. Unlike me. We’re polar opposites at this point in time.
No worry he says. Be happy. You’ll get your flight. It’s now 1715hrs. Follow me. He asks if I’m been through immigration. Not entirely telling the truth advise that immigration told me I don’t need to go through immigration as I’m going to Zanzibar and that you’ll take me directly to the aircraft. Ahem. That’s what they sort of said. Isn’t it?
Follow me he says. In that laid back African drawl. Which is really annoying as I’m pumped up with adrenalin and buzzing and can’t be doing laid back right now. I want rush, rush, rush, action stations.
Taken out into the baggage handling area, walking past all the baggage trolleys that have been security cleared, around the back of the terminal, into some secure area for authorised personnel only (that’s what the signs say) and then into the check in area. Given a boarding pass. Stress levels reducing now. Calming down. Would I like to check my bag in. No thanks I’ll keep it with me. Asked if I have any liquids or anything like that. Erm no…..lying through my teeth. OK he says then we can go.
Retrace our steps through the authorised personnel area, pass security cleared baggage handling again and up into the air bridge area which is an open air corridor linking all four air bridges. In practice you’d exit the departure gate onto this link corridor to board your flight. Enter the departure gate room but, in effect, in the opposite direction to what is allowed. Walk up to the secondary security check at the departure gate entrance. Fly540 bloke tells them it’s OK I’m off to Zanzibar. A waft of the hand signals that I don’t need to be X-rayed.
And with that the Fly540 bloke tells me the flight has been delayed 30mins. You what?!?! After all that?!?!
So there I am. Standing in a departure hall at 1720hrs. Have broken numerous aviation rules. Been in secure areas I shouldn’t have been. Not had my passport checked. About to board a flight without any security checks. Good job I’m not a terrorist.
T…..I……A……..This Is Africa.
Flight finally takes off 40mins late at 1800hrs. Crappy little aircraft with dodgy seats. Land Zanzibar. Yellow Fever certificate required. Already have visa so that’s plain sailing. Smile for the camera. Fingerprints taken. Passport stamped.
Hotel advise to look out for a teal coloured signboard with hotel name on. Instead there’s a fat bloke holding a scrap of paper with surname scribbled on in marker pen. Darkness has descended as we travel to hotel in Stone Town. Not sure how safe it is as there was a recent acid attack on two British girls a few weeks ago and the press are talking about anti-Western sentiment in Zanzibar etc etc.
Taxi drives through some very dodgy looking streets and markets and we pull up. Jump out and gather my belongings and follow driver down some very dark alleyways. So much so, that for a moment I wonder if I’m going to be mugged. I can do without that tonight after the day I’ve had.
More dark alleyways passing people in traditional garb staring at me. Ready for a fight if needs be. Cynical old sod that I am.
After a few minutes twisting and turning in what is immediately obvious to be a maze of alleys arrive at destination. Safe and sound. And tired. And hungry.
In need of beer after the day I’ve had!