8 hours in a big bus

Hello my darling friends!
Alas, again I find myself woefully behind in blog updating. So I will attempt to bring things up to speed and maybe just maybe I will stay on top of updates at long last (always the optimist!).
Perhaps the best way to start is to take you with me on my adventurous journey to Mufindi. Our stranded little group was fast approaching a state of panic. Guests were coming to Mufindi and there was no one there to host them. So a solution was reached--I would be put on a bus from Dar to Mafinga where I would be picked up and driven to Mufindi to greet the imminent incoming guests with open arms. With promises of luxury, air conditioning, and a complimentory soda and coconut cookie, I agreed to the plan and prepared for my early morning (the bust left at 6:45 am). At 6:15 I was bundled off to the station and found my way onto the bus and to my seat--the very last row of seats across the back--the middle seat of five, at least I would have an entire aisle's worth of leg room. It wasn't quite what I'd envisioned, naively forgetting that Tanzanian luxury in most cases is quite different from what we might term luxury, so I settled into my shabby seat and prepared for whatever the bus might throw at me. In a wonderous stroke of luck my left side bus neighbor spoke nearly perfect English (not all that common in the general population) and he and his friend basically took it upon themselves to look after me. They told me where we were stopping and why, chatted with me when I was awake, told me when it was safe to get off and make a mad dash to the toilet, they offered to share their food with me (fried chicken and fries), and most importantly they promised to tell me when to get off the bus at my destination (no anouncements were made--you're just supposed to know).

The bus was in fact not air conditioned and as the hours slid by the temperature rose. During the hottest part of the day we passed through flatlands, whizzing past tiny enclaves of small red clay huts thatched with grass; colorfully dressed women tending to their livestock and children in the yard. After the majority of these tiny villages were behind us we hit solid scenery. There is a particularly spectacular section of the 7 hour drive to Iringa, the stop before Mafinga. You drive for about an hour through a valley surrounded by blonde hills covered with the ancient and bizarre baobob trees--there are thousands of these other worldly trees and it is incredible. It is completely inexplicable and can only be approximated through photos. But, of course somehow we had to the valley at some point and that's where the real excitement began.

Driving is insane in Tanzania. It is even more insane in a bus. There is no caution, and everything is executed at top speed. As we climbed out of the valley, hurtling around hairpin curves, I became convinced of my impending doom. I had become accostumed to the rocking, to the speed, to the passing cars and looking ahead into an oncoming car's windshield only to dodge back into the correct lane at the last possible instant, but this was too much. We took the curves of treacherously narrow roads so quickly that the bus would noticeably sway to one side, and then, just as tipping seemed impossible to avoid, we would rock back into alignment. Twenty minutes of this had the girl next to me vomiting into a plastic bag, and me gripping the armrests and chattering nervously to my newfound friends. Imagine going around swithback curves in a 50 seat bus, about 15+ feet tall, at a speed of at least 60 miles an hour. I'm not kidding and I'm not exaggerating. I continued to be shocked at the dangerous driving even after I'd escaped the bus with my life. There was particularly special moment though when Mr. Fox called my phone to ask me where I was, near Iringa I said, where are you? "Flying several thousand feet over Iringa right now!" Well, I'm down here waving to you from the bus, I replied. Actually, despite fearing for my life the whole thing was kind of fun.

So to wrap up our special little tale, after carsick girl got off the bus, I asked Ungu (my new friend) to grab one of the roasted corn on the cob snacks that vendors held hovering temptingly just outside the bus window. I handed him the money but instead he treated me, his friend, and the women ahead of him to the mahindi (swahili for corn on the cob). After that comradery abounded. I shared my cob with the guy on the other side of me and he shared cashew nuts with the rest of us. It was a wonderful final hour on the bus and a memory of Tanzanian generosity and friendship that I won't forget. True to his word, Ungu told the attendant where I was disembarking, and between the two of them there's no way I could have missed my stop. I in fact met in Mafinga and driven sleepily to Mufindi where new adventures awaited me...

But that's another story for another time.

Current news: I've said goodbye to Tanzania and am now staying with family friends for several days in the ancestral homeland--Holland! I'll catch up on blogging somehow!

Love,
Sara