Home » Zambia » Day 8. Sat 28th September MV Liemba

The MV Liemba stops 19 times on its way from Mpulungu to Kigoma. Apart from the first at Kasanga, which has a proper quay, the stops simply involve putting down the anchor and hooting the horn. Within minutes the ship is surrounded by boats of all sizes, some with outboards, some with paddles, and others which are fishermen's dugouts, all selling something, buying something, onloading or offloading cargo or passengers. The dawn stops bring fisherman from the middle of the lake to sell their overnight catch. Other stops provide live chickens, which presumably become our evening meal.

Day 8. Sat 28th September MV Liemba

DaveMidgley
2005-10-22 12:15:33

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The MV Liemba stops 19 times on its way from Mpulungu to Kigoma. Apart from the first at Kasanga, which has a proper quay, the stops simply involve putting down the anchor and hooting the horn. Within minutes the ship is surrounded by boats of all sizes, some with outboards, some with paddles, and others which are fishermen's dugouts, all selling something, buying something, onloading or offloading cargo or passengers. The dawn stops bring fisherman from the middle of the lake to sell their overnight catch. Other stops provide live chickens, which presumably become our evening meal.

There is no ladder and access to the ship is by the simple expedient of clambering up the side.

Mothers with babies in shawls on their backs embark and disembark in this manner, and toddlers are usually swung across by one arm. Money exchanges hands constantly and water taxis vie with each other to be first - whoever gets the passenger gets the fare.

A man with a boat full of planks to be transported up the lake cannot get them on the ship by himself. Everyone stands and watches him struggle until finally he offeres money. A bargain is struck and his goods are quickly loaded. Another woman has steaming containers of curry and rice in her boat, which she ladles into plastic bags and sells to the passengers.

Meanwhile to stern, bags of rice are loaded into the hold with derricks.

On board the Liemba, traders sell pineapples, drinks, nuts and pieces of sugar cane which is tripped of its outer husk and then chunks bitten off and chewed.
Between stops we read, write our diaries, chat with the other passangers and enjoy the ambience. Although we are the only white faces on board, and certainly objects of curiosity, there is no feeling of animosity at all, and most passengers who speak English are happy to chat about where we are from and what we are doing. The pronouncement that we are English generally provokes the response "Ah, David Beckham".

As first class passengers we also have access to the bar and restaurant, where we quaff cold cokes and beer and Ken amuses himself, and us, by slipping salt into Nathan's beer when he's not looking. The food is better than we expected, although the choice is limited to beef or chicken with rice, sometimes chips, or msheema, a thick and largely tasteless dough made from maize flour. (Andy seems to like it).
After dinner we and our glasses of scotch are invited onto the bridge to watch the mayhem of the stops from the crew's point of view. The Captain is supremely indifferent to the antics of the people below, and, when he decides time is up, simply hoots his horn, raises the anchor and motors off, leaving anyone attached to the side to fend for themselves. On one occasion as we move ahead a wooden boat scoots under our bow, presumably a latecomer frustrated at missing his chance to ply his trade. The officer on watch fixes him in the spotlight beam and, barely slowing, gives a toot on the horn, and the little craft nips through our wash, the occupants paddling furiously.