We woke up at 0530 this morning to catch the minibus (daladala) to Iringatown (named Iringa, but everyone says 'Iringatown, and I like it). This was quite a trip. The bus can barely hold up against the rough road, and the rain weve been getting doesnt help any. The overcrowded bus blasts through the mud, swerving at forty-five degree angles to either side, wondering how the thing doesnt tip over or fall apart. The beauty of it is that everyone in this country is a mechanic. This bus has probably died at least a dozen times and keeps getting new life breathed into it by the industrious Tanzanians. The ride ended at an impassable bridge. The river had flooded from all the rain and the road was washed out. Hundreds of people were crossing the bridge on foot, or were stranded waiting for buses to come pick them on the other side of the bridge. Once we were finally able to get a ride to Iringatown, we went to the net cafe to write and respond to emails for about an hour. We walked around for awhile and picked up some phone cards, water, and the western remedy for most illnesses, Sprite. We waited for awhile as Mr. Kisava, who has been with us, took care of some business, and Todi and Ayobu stopped by to visit for a bit. When we had all finished everything we needed to do in town, we took a cab back, a small sedan. Ever the optimist, Bryan estimated the odds of us getting stuck in the mud at 50-50, while I guessed that those were probably the odds we made it to the school in the car period. I must say I was impressed with the skill of the driver, navigated the mud, holes, and gouges that filled the alternative route we had to take, and he did make it about 4/5 of the way back before getting stuck in the mud. With the aid of about six villagers, we got it out after maybe twenty or so minutes of muddy pushing and lifting the car. When we had finished, the villagers asked Mr. Kisava to tell the wazungus to pay them. I was glad when Mr. Kisava scoffed and paid them himself, which we of course reimbursed. I felt kind of bad for the driver after we arrived at the school. The drive had taken 2.5 hours, and there was probably 1.5 hours of light left. Good luck, buddy.
Insets: people crossing the washed out bridge, Iringatown from the net cafe, and a video of the smooth ride on the daladala
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1 comment:
fact: i would have hurled on that bus ride.
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