Swindled in Dar es Salaam

This is a story about the cleverness of the swindlers of Dar es Salaam (and probably most other African cities). These swindlers caught me at a very vulnerable moment in my third day of traveling alone as a female… basically all conditions that the guidebook tells you not to do. I was in Dar es Salaam to obtain my research clearance and thereafter, my resident permit. Although I am a female alone, I really thought I was street wise enough to deal with the hawkers and criminals of African cities, but they know when to strike. It was Thursday and I was quite happy because Immigration told me I could get my residency on Friday which meant I could be out of Dar by the weekend. Well, I felt like I was adapting to the city and went to buy an outfit because I had packed for cold weather and it was ~95 F in the middle of the night. I found an outfit at a good price and was very happy everything was going well. This next part is particularly hard to explain, but in African cities, a white person sticks out like a sore thumb and you cannot take 3 steps without someone approaching you to buy something, ask for money, ask if you need help (which they expect to be compensated for), etc.... Anyway, because I was so jolly, but still so lonely, I started talking to someone on the street (#1 mistake). He told me he was from Arusha, visiting his dad in Dar who was an immigration officer (2 lies I am sure). He asked where I was staying and I told him I was looking for a cheap hotel (#2 mistake). He insisted on showing me one even when I just asked for the name. We started walking very far. When we got to the hotel (~40 minutes later), they were booked but had the phone number of another hotel owned by the same company. (Here is where I think all the lies I should have recognized began). The guy told me that the other hotel would send a car to pick us up because they wanted more business. So, we sat and waited for about an hour (it was lunch hour and there were traffic jams everywhere). He talked or kept me talking the entire time, which now I see was so that I wouldn't stop to think about the situation I was in. We talked about religion and he quoted bible verses to explain his beliefs. He gave me all kinds of helpful hints about Dar- convincing me that it was safer then everyone thought because there are undercover cops in civilian clothing everywhere. The car came and I got in (#3 mistake).

We began to drive outside of the city which the guy explained was to avoid all of the traffic in the city center. Before I knew it we were on a dirt road with very few cars, buildings, people, etc. The car stopped. The driver got out and opened the hood making it appear that it had overheated (there was no steam or bad noise or anything and this is when I really started to feel uncomfortable and like something was definitely amiss). The guy told me this is a problem because it is illegal to park on this road ever (but we weren't parked, the car died, I told myself). Soon after, the only other guy on the street, an older man with a belly, approached the car and told me that we couldn't park there. I was completely baffled because we weren't parked. He opened the door and got in so that I was squeezed between the two men (I knew this was a problem). Then, the fat man asked my "friend" for his cigarette (yes, he was smoking in the car, which should have been a sign). He told me it was marijuana and had me smell it (I have little experience with weed, but I did not recognize the smell at all- I guess it could have been a cheap African watered-down version). Then, the fat man pulled out a police ID (which to tell you the truth, I barely looked at, but in retrospect it looked like a laminated piece of cardboard) and told us he was a cop and that we were all in trouble: the driver because he parked illegally, my "friend" because of the weed, and me because I was in the company of someone doing drugs (should have been a sign- why would this be a crime?). The "police officer" began explaining that we had to go to the police station and turn in a statement and I would need to appear in court on Monday and I would not receive my permit because of my crime. He proceeded to tell me that the punishment was 1.5 years in jail or to pay a $1,500 USD fine (which looking back is rather absurd). I started bawling and shaking uncontrollably. The fat man was trying to win me over, asking me where I was from... he said GA and Tanzania are such good friends... blah blah blah (should have been a sign because African gov't officials are always very stern and unfriendly). He said he needed to see my ID and stupidly, I pulled it out of my money belt (#??? How many mistakes is that by now?) Then the fat man started saying my name... ah.. Rebekah... what a pretty name, etc. etc. He said he had to search my bag. I told him I had been with the "friend" for a couple hours but he hadn't been in my bag at all. The "policeman" opened one zipper and called it searched (I was already completely suspicious of the whole thing, but really this topped it off- why search a person's belongings next to the criminal in the back seat of a cramped car? and why not do a thorough search?) To tell you the truth, at this point, I knew something was up and my brain was screaming- I just need to talk to someone who will understand my side at the police station, but everything in me just wanted out of that car at any means possible. As I said, I was a wreck and began sobbing which invoked my “friend” to tell me I better stop- it only makes them angry when I cry (I don’t know why I believed that, besides the fact that my mind was all over the place). The fat man asked to see what was in my pockets (to see how much money I had) and then my money belt (which I stupidly showed him). In my pocket I had pepper spray which he was quite interested in. He then began insinuating that he would take a bribe and give it to the boss-man who he called several times trying to "convince" "him" that his "friend" was a poor student. He said he needed 200,000 TSH (about $225, maybe) and we could go to an ATM so I could withdraw it. I told him the money I had on me was all I had and that it was supposed to get me all the way home. Anyway, it ended when I gave him all I had in my money belt and he told me I could get out of the car (an opportunity I jumped on so quickly that I didn't even care if anything was left). He took about 40,000 TSH (~$50, maybe).

Okay, so now, here I am... completely frazzled, shaking, bawling, on a dirt road outside of Dar es Salaam without any clue which direction anything familiar was. And then, a blessing... a real police officer came up on a motorbike and pulled over (I am sure I looked a wreck and completely out of place). I told him I was very lost and asked which direction town was and if it was far. He spoke very very little English, but I think he got the jist. I jumped on the back of his motorbike and he gave me a lift to the bus stop and told some students there to make sure I got downtown. We waited about 15 minutes and the policeman came back from wherever he had gone. He told me to jump on and brought me to the main road where the bus took me to town. During our ride I told him what had happened and he confirmed the cop was fake, and kind of chuckled. Only in Africa.

I found my way back to a mazungu (white person) hostel and checked in and didn't leave my room until the next day. When recounting the event, I realized that as the “policeman” was “searching” my pockets, he had actually pocketed my pepper spray! How unnerving that my defense was now in the hands of whom I needed to protect myself from. It is enough to make me angry. My small revenge was to text the “friend” (who had given me his number during our 2 hours together- this is what all Tanzanians do when trying to be nice). I wrote “You should be absolutely ashamed of yourself. God will judge you one day and I will pray for your soul.” I am sure he just received it, laughed, and showed his criminal friends over a beer (and possibly more dope) bought with my money, but nonetheless, it made me feel better.

When I was in my room that night, I heard American accents in the stairwell and eagerly jumped on the chance to introduce myself to Jessica and Annie, grad students @ NYU studying of all things, social work. Needless to say, they were very good listeners and it felt so efficient and good to talk fast in English and get a response!

Many lessons were learned in this scenario, but above all I learned that in African cities, if someone looks you in the eye and smiles (a typically friendly gesture), it should be an indication that they have evil intentions. If you need to ask for help with directions or where to buy something, ask the people that look very grumpy, as I firmly believe they have a grumpy appearance because they are ashamed of the criminals calling the same city their home. The best tactic to use is to appear very focused on where you are going (even if you don’t know) and come across as an extremely cold person. My trusting nature has now been replaced with cynicism and suspicion, but hopefully my friendliness will return when I return to the states.