“Karibu” — welcome — is said often in Tanzania, but our first few hours in the country made us feel anything but. As it was a transport option endorsed by our hotel, we caught an Uber from the airport, crawling slowly towards the city through the steamy afternoon heat until we were flagged down by a ragtag bunch of officials. Apparently, our driver’s plates didn’t match his licence paper. Twenty minutes later, and with his negotiations still going nowhere, we left the vehicle. He admitted that the real reason was that we were white tourists they were hoping to make a buck off. As the rain started to pour, we carried our bags a few blocks before hailing another Uber. Within seconds of getting inside the vehicle, another official had stopped the car. He told us it wasn’t licensed to carry passengers, we had to find another one. We got out, cursing Uber and its greed in launching in a country where it hasn’t bothered to vet its drivers or ensure the smooth transit of its customers. Eve...

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