All language subtitles for S.T.T.A.S01E02.Kenya & Tanzania [eng]

Africa, there's nowhere
else, quite like it.

A billion people speaking
thousands of languages and

a paradise and wildlife
and natural wonders.

I'm taking it on in an unharried manner.

A board Africa's railways.

It's the gentle way to
experience its beauty

and a needed staiverse
and fascinating people.

From the desert to the open grasslands.

From wild forest to some of
the greatest rivers in the world.

From station to wonderful station.

I'm going to navigate
through the most extraordinary

environment on earth
in 5 spectacular journeys.

It will no doubt be
slow, sometimes even

frustrating, but it's
going to be an adventure.

In this episode, I'm traveling through
the open spaces of the eastern highlands.

Just below the equator.

It isn't the easiest leg.

This is a part of Africa where the train
lines and the trains don't always run.

Anybody here?

And sometimes they aren't there at all.

But come with me as I
embark on a 1,000 mile

railway, odyssey and
an unforgettable trip.

I'm riding on one of the last steam
engines that used to work the railways.

That run through the wild
savannas of East Africa.

I'm in Kenya.

In human terms, it's one of
the oldest places on the planet.

And certainly, one of them has beautiful.

Nia Turu is a vintage locomotive
with 7,000 gallons of water in her tender

to take her on the line that
links Lake Victoria to the coast.

Winston Churchill described this
journey as the most romantic in the world.

Does that still hold my wonder?

It's quite a trip.

This is a journey into what is
essentially the confederacy of Africa.

Because as we come down through this
region, we're crossing these huge savannas.

These areas where
equatorial Africa presents

itself in an extraordinary
variety of ways.

We have snow cut mountains, if
we have forest, we have desert.

And we have walled animals.

Europeans only got bold enough to
explore this way less than 150 years ago.

And almost immediately,
they started to build railways

through the domain of the
world of East and the elephant.

Two great European
powers vied with each

other as they scrambled
for African territory.

I'm using what remained
at the British effort

to begin to look at
that colonial legacy.

Right now I'm heading towards
Muruk in the Kenya Highlands.

I'll follow the railway over the
central platter and through Nairobi,

descending onto the plains
before crossing into Tanzania,

where my journey ends at
the railway town of Umbaya.

I don't know how much
of it will be able to make.

I can't understand that the old East Africa
railway system is a little bit wonky.

But we shall see, we shall see.

In many places, the railways that
the supporting British rule are now bust.

A passenger service hasn't
run on these tracks for two years.

Today, I'm lucky that enthusiasts have got
the boiler of this museum piece fired up

to give me a sense of what
rail travel was like in its pump.

They would have been the
driver here, James is our father.

They are one of the very few who can
now drive one of these steam locomotives.

Hang on, I'll show you,
Ben, how old are you?

I'm cemented, who are you?

I said you too, yes.

It's fascinating riding on the
footbait because, actually, this bit,

which attaches the
tender here, is permanently

moving about a bit
as we go over the ride.

So it's got a sort of,
it's like a joint, it moves.

I'll be on an undergraduate
here, he's coming out all the time.

Then he wants them up,
we're in Africa, it's hot, hot up.

This 60-year-old engine
was made in Glasgow to

run on a line built by
the British in the 1890s.

They were in a race with the Germans to
reach Lake Victoria from Africa's east coast

so that they could control
the source of the Nile.

At home, building a 600-mile
railway across unknown

African territory was thought to be so
bonkers that it was known as the lunatic line.

But the British government decided
they wanted to prove that they could do it.

And as a result, they made more potential.

I'm heading into the open
hill country, transformed

by this railway into
part of the empire.

Just over 100 years
ago, the British authorities

encouraged settlers
to take their train

and establish a colony
two-and-a-half times the size of Britain.

One of the first to arrive was an
aristocrat named Lord Delemier.

He transported sheep and cattle along
the tracks to a vast estate near Unbuck.

It's still a working cattle
farm, and I've come

to see what the lunatic
line made possible.

Morning. Morning. Nice to meet you.

Morning. Hello. I'm Graf.
You must be pension.

My name is Benson. Good to meet you.

Benson Boogie is a manager
at the Delemier Estate.

He looks after nearly 9,000 cattle,
and they take some looking after.

Because they share the
land with zebras, giraffe,

and buffalo, and all their
flyers and parasites too.

So today, this lot, having a bus.

How many cattle are we looking at?

We are looking at dipping 2,200 cows.

Are they going to be cowboys to help us?

We are going to be haggars.
Our nayt haggars and the dang haggars.

And we have
coals to get them in.

What do we do? We have them.
You, who? You, me, me, me.

They just south, dip, dip, dip,
dip, dip, dip, dip, dip, dip, dip.

Dip, dip, dip.

Or iron cattle like these have
been in Africa for 700 years.

They're tough, and they have attitude.

They can kick you. They can kick you.
Keep us safe. Yes.

Hey! Come on. Give, give, give, give, give.

Here, here, hey, hey.

Put tea on, ha ha ha. That's right.

I'm being bit bit too busy, here.

I'm tempted to join them
in the bath until I see it.

I can see why they need some encouragement.

Good boys. But this isn't a
bloody flop that I want to make.

Go for it. That's it.

Let's go! Two and a half hours later,
2,200 cattle have been dipped, dipped.

They're much the better for it, and I
think the flies are keeping away from me.

I've got so much of the stuff on me.

The railway was vital for
the scores of colonial estates.

Make this one.

So many Brits took up
the challenge of farming,

that the region became
known as the White Highlands.

The altitude makes the place
habitable, where higher here,

than the highest mountains in
Britain, were almost on the equator,

but it never gets too hot, and so I
can contemplate some exercise.

Well, Kenya is running country.

This is where the greatest distance
runners in the world come from.

And I've arranged for a couple to come
on my morning constitutional with me.

I must be mad.

Ruth and Nancy are
promising young athletes.

Their coach sighed for they could
provide me with some competition.

They've been running
since they were little.

So Ruth, did you run to school?

Yes.

Because it was far how you've flown home.

Was it? Yeah.

And how far did you run?

About 10 kilometres.

10 kilometres to get to school every day.

And back?

Yes.

No wonder you're a good runner.

Good.

Off we go, though.

I can see Zebra.

The thing that makes
a big difference for

athletes in Kenya, of
course, is the altitude.

I mean, even here, where 6,000 feet up,
Ruth and Nancy were born at high altitude.

When they go, later on, when they go
to compete in races in the Netherlands,

suddenly they'll feel
as light as a feather.

They can run faster than everybody else,

because they used to
run it in the rarefied air.

I'm not.

So that's, I have an excuse
for being left in their dust.

That, and being 16.

This is Ruth and Nancy's country.

They're moving forward in a modern world.

And like me, the old colonial railway
structure is now being left behind.

Hello?

Anybody here?

You look around this place.

What I love about it is
almost exactly as it was

put here in ISU, 1901,
when the line was finished.

The safe.

The noticed boards.

Even the notices.

The station still sits on the main
route from the coast of the landlocked

countries of Uganda, Burundi and Rwanda,
but nearly everything today goes by road.

And so must I.

The next available passenger
train to continue my travels

and take me into Nairobi leaves
from Kikuyu 100 miles away.

This is still a fabulous journey, as
I climb out of the Great Rift Valley,

which slices through East
Africa for thousands of miles.

Building a railway across this
landscape really does look like lunacy,

but then the colonials did leave
some pretty mad ideas behind them.

My accommodation doesn't look very canyon.

That's because its Scottish
owner was a 1930s toffee magnet

who wanted his house to look like
a Victorian Highland shooting lodge.

Is this a beautiful isn't it?

Now it's a hotel and a place for
me to plot the next bit of my journey.

We've got to take
what is now the only

passenger train that
actually goes into Nairobi

from the west on a regular basis, and
that is a computer train that would take me

about what about 10 miles
which is all we are from the centre.

And I suppose we're going
to be moving there from...

These wild animals
are the run of this place.

It's almost impossible
to have breakfast without

being disturbed
apparently by a rough child.

Giraffes.

It's now actually positively
eating my breakfast.

This rare species of
giraffes was named after the

zoologist and famous
banker Walter Rothschild.

Giraffes Manor isn't just
a hotel, it's a giraffes stud.

A breeding program aims
to boost their numbers.

What about me?

I'm holding two.

And breakfast time extends to
anything on legs around here.

This was serious each and going on now.

She reminds me of my family.

Out the way.

Well, now that we're all fed, I can get on.

I've got a train to catch at last. One
that'll take me into Kenya's biggest city.

I'm making my way across Kenya by rail.

It isn't an easy journey
because some stretches

of the train are no
longer taking passengers.

But I've reached a section
of the railway that is open.

From Kikuya, I'm joining commuters
who are heading into Kenya's biggest city.

There are 10 miles to go and I'm getting
the view from the cat with driver Isaac.

So, what time will we arrive at Nairobi?

I shall arrive in a rocky platform station.

I've 7.40, 7.40, 8 in a morning year.

I've got about an hour to go.

When the train isn't running, the railway
itself becomes a pedestrian precinct.

Isaac is constantly on
the lookout between stops.

This is a stop coming up.

There's no platform here. We've effectively
stopped in the middle of the field.

And people are waiting
on either side of the track.

And now they're all climbing above.

Is this seat free
here? Thank you.

Around 30,000 people travel
into the capital by train every day.

What are you going into Nairobi before?

I'm going in one by a minute.

Second hand, one by the other.

It seems like lots of people know one
another, but there's a reason for that.

This is the commuter train.

When I see the train, I
mean the commuter train.

This runs into the centre of Nairobi.

It comes back out.

It comes back out.

Alright, off we go.

Great, great station to arrive at.

Nairobi buzzes.

It's home to 3 million
people, and it's the

business and industrial
heart of East Africa.

But when established
by the British in 1899, it

was no more than some
level ground in a swamp.

Handy for a few sheds during
the construction of the line.

I'm not staying to explore, but there is
one thing I want to see as I pass through.

It's another railway carriage.

But this one's in a museum,
and it harbors a dark past.

This is the elephant's
graveyard of the British Empire,

where the great engineering
marbles of the age come to die.

The railway to Uganda
was an epic undertaking.

The British needed so much labour that
they imported 32,000 workers from India.

But when they reached
an area of savanna

called Savo, they encountered a new problem,
wildlife were the taste for human flesh.

Over the next nine months, lions
killed around 35 seek workers.

The managers of Savo became
Kenya's most famously gruesome legend.

This is the actual railway carriage.

First class, the child's royal
superintendent of the railway police,

decided to take to the station at Kima
in order to deal with the man-eating lion.

He set some bait, he got into the carriage,
armed to the teeth, and started to wait.

It was a long night, and
almost inevitably he fell asleep.

The next thing that
anyone in the carriage

knew, a man-eater had
patted into this carriage,

grabbed him by the
throat and dragged him into

the bush before anybody
could get a shot in.

Eventually the lions
were hunted down, and

the railway continued
across the Savo planes.

The railway reached Lake
Victoria in 1901, travelling

there now took six days
instead of three months.

The British had beaten the
Germans to the largest body of

fresh water in Africa and
the source of the river Nile,

sometimes at the rate of a mile
a day, thanks to Indian workers.

I'm heading further down
the line, from Nairobi to

McKindo, to look for its sea
creators' remarkable legacy.

This is the passenger
information board, and

there's absolutely no
information on it at all.

Upper class booking and ticketing office,
I think that's what I'm going to be.

Good evening.

I have to go to McKindo.

We have a bit of a delay
tonight, about two hours delay.

Okay.

What are we going to get there?

Thank you very much.

See you.

Bye bye.

It's a warm evening.

Silent groups of people settle down to
wait in the shadows of a dark platform.

It's nine o'clock, and nothing
is happening in the moment.

Still do it seven.

Finally, just four hours
later, a train, and I

wonder which of these
dozen carriages is mine.

12.1.

Let's go, I'm still exactly where to ride.

Let me get on.

I'm heading to McKindo.

Yes.

And how long will it take us together?

What am I going to do?

Yeah, I have to make it
four about six hours for now.

Six hours.

Yeah.

Will you come and wait me up?

Yeah, I will do so.

Because I think it probably is my job.

That's my job, eh? Good work.

Good work.

Nice to meet you.

Thank you.

This is my compartment.

And I've got a mosquito upgrade.

And a little sink.

There's a mirror, and it's
held together with tape.

There's a fan, but a fan does work.

It's glam, but it's lost
a little bit of its luster.

Perhaps the romance of East
Africa's railways is behind us.

But happily, the station's behind us too.

We're off.

We've stopped.

I'm travelling through the
wild grasslands of East Africa

and not only old colonial railways, or
at least the ones that are still working.

I'm now heading east to
see a magnificent tribute

to the Indian workers
who built this line.

I think I stepped for about an hour.

It's a rocky road to McKindue.

And this, now, is a change in landscape.

We've come down out of the hill amongst
the foreign trees and the flat play.

This is the savannah proper.

I'm two and a half
thousand feet lower than

where my journey began
in the Kenyan Highlands.

From my stop, the railway trembles
downhill to the coast 270 miles away.

Just coming into the platform now.

What can I do?

I don't know when we're going to stop.

Stop!

No?

Oh, perhaps it isn't going to stop.

People are getting off without it stopping.

At first glance, McKindue
is a typical Kenyan town.

Busy and dusty.

But the little place has
one intrigue in treasure.

This temple, Oguru Duwara,

is a testament to the thousands of Sikh
workers who built the Great Train Line.

A restful corner of
India here in East Africa.

A Marjid Singh is showing me around.

This is the most important temple.

It is one of the biggest
Gurudwara stemples.

I do see it's come from all
over East Africa to come here.

All over the world, in fact.

People from not only Kenya,
Tanzania, but also from

England, Europe, and States,
Australia, they come over here.

Many make their way here
to take part in a ceremony.

The reading of the Sikh Holy
Book, 1,430 pages in one city.

I've been invited into the
prayer hall for a few moments.

The reading having started
now will continue for 48 hours,

and each reader is
replaced after two hours.

I leave them to continue their holy work,

because I need to get
further down the line.

A lodge with a
breath-taking view awaits me.

When the railway opened a century ago,
it didn't just bring the British settlers.

From the first, it also
brought wealthy tourists.

Many carried guns, rather than guidebooks.

The railway had opened
up this land to trophy hunters.

And today, the tourists still
come, and say to the poachers,

"Every year in Kenya, around 3,000 adult
elephants are killed for their ivory tusks.

Savo, where the man eating lions
roamed, is now a huge national park.

"But the price of ivory is
so high that poachers target

the elephants that are
supposed to find sanctuary here.

The park rangers are left
with the orphaned babies.

Their mothers are no
longer here to feed them.

And so, every day, Joseph, Sally
and his team bring bottles of milk.

So, what are we doing, Joseph?

We are now moving out a bottle of milk.

Yes, so, the orphans are becoming sold.

Right, so, we have to arrange their
milk bottle at their correct position.

Excellent.

So, these elephants, where are they now?

They are out in the bush.

They are becoming sold.

Elephants are good time keepers.

So, they know at exactly 11, they start
living the wild ones and start coming here.

That's the exciting moment, really.

Oh, here they come.

Here they come.

Here they come.

They're right.

I need more you and don't put your quilt.

My zoo, hey.

Take this with one hand.

Okay, there we go.

I know I've got the other one.

He has his eye continuously on this bottle

because despite the fact that this one is
now being emptied, we've got rid of that.

Okay, here comes another one.

Ah, ecstasy.

Ecstasy.

All right, all done.

I've finished.

All gone.

I know, but I haven't gone any more.

It's all finished.

That's it, look.

Finish.

After the toddlers have been fed,
it's the turn of the five-year-olds.

Yeah, okay.

Okay, these are.

So Joseph, who is
this? That is Kenya.

Kenya?

Yes.

Kenya is actually gripping
the bottle and taking

it out of my hand and
holding it for herself.

And look, Kenya.

Come on, you're dribbling everywhere.

That's it.

Okay, that's your lot, all finished.

I don't know whether to burp her.

Usually with babies,
we put them on our shot

and we give them a pass on the
back, you don't burp them? No, no.

These orphans will be weaned
when they're 80 years old,

or when the rangers need
stepladders to feed them.

Then they'll reintegrate
with the wild herds.

I wish Joseph and his
babies the best of luck.

Just outside Sarvo National Park is a boy,

the nearest station to
the border with Tanzania.

I want to head there now and
to get to the town of Motion.

But I won't be going by train.

Station masking.

Yes, how are you? Good.

It says there.

Junction.

I've had tens of near lines.

Yes.

But this is no longer a
junction for Tanzania.

No, no, we don't have a
train going to that place.

Who's to go there?

It used to go but no longer.

But no longer.

Against the old colonial engineers,
the savanna is fighting back.

This is like the ghost
of the old railway line,

and these sleepers all have
workington, stamped on them.

And now it disappears under the land there,
just sort of starting to return to fields.

So I'll need alternative
transport to get to Motion.

Excuse me.

Hi, I'm looking for a taxi, 7,000.

You're done.

My name is Peter.

Yeah.

What sort of music do you like Peter?

They gave me a seat.

Gregie.

So we can listen to some Gregie later on.

Yeah.

We've got some in the car.

Yeah.

It's such a well-made road I
can understand why they gave up

on the railway after
it fell into disrepair.

It's done like this, you
think, wow, that's great.

Look at this.

Fantastic.

It's very local.

Be there in half an hour.

But then you get a few kilometers.

They're really good road just to stop.

And we have to negotiate the
potholes for the next 50 miles.

This is the border, up ahead.

Ah, a flat road.

It's been like 50 miles, or the approach
to an old-fashioned caravan site.

Unbelievable.

It's time to leave Kenya,
and enter tents near.

If I can find it.

This is honestly a little bit confusing.

I don't even know where to go now.

I've used to dover where
there are mile-high signs.

Tanzania? Yeah.

Thank you.

Tanzania is a country
of extraordinary diversity.

A third of its land is protected wildlife
reserve, including the famous Serengeti.

As well as dusty planes and sparse forests,

it boasts Africa's highest
mountain Kilimanjaro.

It would take me a week to climb it.

I don't have that time.

But there's a quicker way
of getting close to its summit.

I hate to use it like this.

It would be a little bit
overused, but... awesome.

19,341 feet of snow-capped volcanic rock.

Not until the 1860s did British
geographers really accept

that there could be snow,
just 200 miles from the equator.

In the shadow of Kilimanjaro lies motion,

an important halt in the
story of Tanzania's railways.

This line was also built during the
scramble for Africa, but not by the British.

Not much going here.

And yet this was the principal route
from the coast up to late Victoria,

built by the Germans when
this was German East Africa.

Just like the British, the Germans
had wanted to reach late Victoria

and grab some potential
riches for themselves.

Their railway pretty
well ran parallel to the

British one, but this
was as far as they got.

But what is Tanzania
like beyond these tracks?

I'm going 30 miles into the
savannah with Kuyar, a local translator,

we're heading to a
boomer, a homestead to

one of Tanzania's most
famous tribal groups.

The massage.

This is a ceremony, a singing that
takes place for special occasions,

and the special occasion is a
feast I've been invited to join it.

The massage are nomadic cattle herders,

and they've been in this part
of Africa for around 400 years.

These days, they're not entirely isolated,
but they maintain their traditions.

Everybody is wearing a
special nice special last year.

But the important thing is
that this is really important.

This is not like costume that's
just put on for tourist dresses,

traditional costume that people wear because
they believe it wearing this costume.

They may be cattle herders,
but the massage rarely eat beef.

On special occasions, they
turn to other four-legged livestock.

While we have an arm to
do here, which is being served

out around everybody,
except none of it's for me.

This food is only for women and children.

Here in massage society,
women do things in separate units.

And so the head man of this village has
come to take me to the men's dining area.

Different dining area,
and a different menu.

Should I sit down?

The women are eating a
sheep, and we're having gut.

This is a part of the
level, which is delicious.

It's delicious.

What is massage for? Very, very
delicious, or good? In the Lord.

In the Lord?

In the Lord? Shaddai.

Yeah, in the Lord.

Shaddai?

Yes.

Shaddai.

Being polite doesn't count for much.

When inadvertently, you've
made a bit of a faux pas.

Yeah. You know what?

You know what?

No.

You have eaten the man you meet.

Yes, so you need to be circumcised.

Okay.

You have to know.

Right now, right now.

Yes, yes.

Okay, which knife are we going to use?

There's a lot of noise.

They're okay, no, they're ready.

Okay, yes.

So these guys will hold me
down, and you'll do it? Yes, okay.

All right, hold that a minute.

Hold that for a second.

I'm very grateful for mess-eye hospitality,

and particularly grateful for being
able to continue my journey in one piece.

Since no trains run from mostly any longer
my journey from here gets complicated.

But I'm getting a geography lesson.

Tango? Where is.

Do-do-ma? Do-do-ma.

Yeah, man.

Do-do-ma.

Okay.

The original plan was to head south from
Moshe and join another railway at Dodoma

and take the train from
there to Daras Salom.

After that, a straight run across
Tanzania to Umbaya where the trip finishes.

However.

The passenger line from Dodoma
to Daras Salom is no longer working.

It's been the wesest wet season in anybody's
memory and it's virtually washed away.

All the bridges of the lines.

And so in consequence,
they're keeping a

freight trade open, but
not a passenger service.

So I have to fly from Moshe to Daras Salom

so I can catch the train
to my final destination.

If that's still running, of course.

Which I'm sure it is.

I promise you that railway is
going to go even if I have to push it.

I'm making my way
through Kenya and Tanzania.

The railways here will
build by the British and

Germans as they
scrambled for African territory.

But they're not all as
handy as they used to be.

I've had to leapfrog decay and landslides
to get to Tanzania's most important city.

Daras Salom.

I've made it this far at the Indian Ocean.

I want to catch a train from
here 515 miles to Mumbai.

Near the Zambian border, my last stop.

Daras Salom began its
existence as a tiny fishing village.

Today, 5,000 fishermen land
their catches here every day.

And the docks are so busy
dealing with 95% of Tanzania's trade.

There's a queue.

All those boats out there are waiting to
get into the modern harbor of Daras Salom.

They've been trading along
this coast for 2,000 years, at least.

In 1415, a giant fleet arrived somewhere
around here sent by the emperor of China.

They took a few
representatives and a giraffe

and headed back to China
and were never seen again.

Except for 600 years later,
they arrived and built a railway.

After the Europeans left,
the Chinese came to lay tracks

across Africa and built
magnificent railway stations.

They wanted to support
socialist Tanzania and Zambia

after they won their
independence in the 1960s.

And their railway connected
the two states and the sea

so that they could reach international
markets on their own terms.

And this was an attempt to say to all the
old collectors, we don't need your systems.

We'll organize ourselves
as independent countries.

That's why it's built with such a
huge amount of display and power.

They took the names of their
countries and called the new

railway to Zara, which sounds
appropriately triumphant.

And whereas the old
British and German lines are

falling apart in places,
this one is more reliable.

Can I get a ticket to conveyor today?

There is no train today.

No train today.

It's just constant.

What has happened?

The answer is that
there's just a minute each.

Wow.

Oh, hey.

We've come a long way
to find that out anyway.

Excuse me.

Do you know where I
can find the station master?

It's such a nice amount.

Come this one.

Thank you.

Okay.

And it's been very helpful.

There is clearly something going
on here, but I'm not sure what.

You have to find the
station master over there.

Over there. Yes.

Thank you very much.

Excuse me.

Is it possible to speak to
the station master? It must.

I was coming here to
take a train from Bea.

Yeah.

And is the train not
happening today? Not today.

But not today.

With us.

Yes.

So there's a dispute.

Is that? I see.

Okay.

Thank you very much.

You've been very helpful.

I think this is a union meeting
that I've stumbled into here,

rather than passengers
waiting for the train to arrive.

What's the issue?

If you're about salaries.

Okay.

Yes.

Is that because
you're you? Not today.

Since February.

Since February people
haven't been paid.

Yes.

Well, good luck.

A train cancellation
is pretty insignificant

if you haven't been
paid for three months.

Hey, let me take your help.

Come on, come on, come on.

Well, the sound you can hear
is the sound of a union holding.

Fast.

They're not going anywhere.

And no, it's the train.

My safari through East
Africa has hit the buffers.

And I can go no further.

I suppose that at least is in keeping with
the lack of trains elsewhere on my travels.

The railways in this part of
Africa are not the priority for

Africans that they were for the
Europeans who can see them.

But while this journey hasn't always been
easy, forgetting it will be very difficult.

I've seen the legacy of the old
railways in the crowded cities and

the connections the tracks once
made across the wide open spaces.

Even if travelling along them
hasn't always been a doddle.

This is so tantalizing.

It's not good.

It's not good.

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