on Public Transport...

So I promised a write-up on public transport.  Some of you may not seem to think that's a subject worthy of  a write-up, but believe you me, it is.

Let me rewind life to December 15, 2010.  I had a friend flying into Dar, so of course, I went in to pick her up.  My village is situated about 45 minutes from the main road, then another hour - hour and a half from town.  The way it works is that I walk to the big mango tree on the main road and sit on the tree trunk and wait until a car comes that happens to be going in the right direction.  So on this said morning, I got myself promptly out of bed and over to the mango tree.  The first car to come along was a land rover pick-up with, oh...how to describe?  It had the framework of a cage on the bed of the pick-up.  This particular morning, it was chalk-a-block full of bags of charcoal, which were loaded up to about a foot below the top of the frame.  They pulled to a stop and I climbed on, trying to keep my skirt down and working at finding a comfortable spot on the bags of charcoal.  After a few wiggles and turns - success!  And off we went.  At a snail's pace, of course.  About halfway there, the pick-up stopped to let off some passengers - and I was told that the white person should definitely move up front to the cab. "Why?" said I. "Because you're white" came the answer. Oh. Sitting in the front meant sitting in between two crusty old men who immediately wanted to know if I was married. When they found out I wasn't, they decided that they were the ones who'd get me.  "Good one." said I and laughed politely...as if I hadn't heard that one before.  After about 2 minutes in the cab, I decided the best place to actually sit in that car was out back...because then you didn't hear or see all that was wrong with the car.  For instance, the driver had to turn the steering wheel about six whole times before the tires would follow.  And the gas tank consisted of a five liter jug sitting right next to me with a hose coming out and heading to who knows where.  The hood kept bouncing - I was sure at any moment it would fly up and in to our faces. Fortunately, that didn't happen.  About 15 minutes away from what I was considering freedom, the engine stalled.  We pulled over the side of the road, the driver jumped out, pulled his seat forward and pulled out another five liter jug - this one full of petrol.  He pulled the hose out of the empty one next to me, said, "Hold this" and proceeded to "fill up" on gas.  I would like to take this moment to point out that I held a very crucial role in the changing of the gas. Just pointing that out.

We managed to get to the main road without any further difficulties, and the rest of the trip into town and to the airport went without a mishap... unless you want to call two more marriage proposals "mishaps".

More recently, I had yet another friend flying in so once more, I took myself down to the tree trunk under the mango tree to see what I could find - hoping that I wouldn't have to resort to a motorcycle taxi (called pikipiki's), which has happened before.  Joy of joys! There was a nice looking pickup truck heading out just as soon as "the grandpa over there finished his breakfast."  Good deal.  Off we went. And boy, was I impressed. The driver seemed to actually know how to drive, trying to avoid potholes, slowing down at corners, you know... the usual.  Well, just over half-way there, the engine stalled. Oh great... Yup, ran of gas.  Everyone got out and then everyone, in the midst of giving their piece of advice to the driver, realized that one of the tires was losing air. Fast.  So, the driver waved down the next pikipiki - which already had one passenger and lots of luggage - and off they went in search of some gas and a "spanna" in which to remove the lug bolts from the tire so the spare could be put on.  At this point, there were several things I decided to focus on: the fact that there was shade to sit under and that there actually was a spare tire in decent shape.  After about an hour and 15 minutes or so, Mr. Driver returned on the back of another pikipiki, holding a 5 liter jug in one hand and a "spanna" in the other. I refrained from doing a cheer.  The clincher though, to this whole story is that the pikipiki our driver came back on had a stereo system hooked up on it... and while our driver and another guy proceeded to change the tire, we were all serenaded by Celine Dion singing, "A New Day has Come."

It really was almost too good to be true.