Not Sure What Title to Give This Adventure!

I like writing about living here in Tanzania. Most of my days involve the children and work at Treasures of Africa Children’s Home. But this week I went outside of my normal “comfort” zone and had an unforgettable adventure!

How do I describe my adventure this week? Hmmm…
Let me put it this way – Now I know how those chickens that I see here all tied up together and thrown in a basket on the back of a bicycle feel.

OK, let me back up. This is how my week started out: Jodie and I traveled by bus with Pastor Zablon to Dar es Salaam where the American Embassy is located. Pastor Zablon had an interview at the American Embassy to get a Visa to travel to the U.S. We went with him to assist in any way possible because this was a totally new experience for him.
We left Monday morning at 7am and took an Express “luxury” coach/bus. It wasn’t American luxury but by African standards it was nice. We were content and although the ride took 8 ½ hours it went by rather fast and without much to write about.

The following morning we went to the American Embassy for Pastor Zablon’s appointment. Knowing that the last buses returning to our home town of Moshi were leaving at noon we knew we were cutting it close to catching a bus back to Moshi.
We exited the Embassy with joy as Pastor Zablon was granted a Visa to go to the U.S.
But an unexpected twist came up: Pastor Zablon’s Visa would not be ready to be picked up until the following day after 2pm. This presented a problem. We did not have enough money to stay in Dar two extra days. So as we discussed what to do the clock was ticking closer to noon and the buses were leaving. Finally it was agreed that Jodie and I would return to Moshi and leave Pastor Zablon to pick up his Visa the following day. The hard work was done…getting the Visa, so we all agreed that Jodie and I should leave.

We jumped in the taxi and rushed to the bus station, but the drive to the bus station was long and slow because the traffic in Dar is horrendous. By the time we arrived the majority of the buses had already left. There wasn’t much to choose from and nothing luxury was still around. Our taxi driver helped us find the one bus that was left going to Moshi. We ran! We paid for our ticket and jumped on the bus. The bus driver directed us to two seats together so we sat down. The moment we sat we knew this ride was going to be different from our luxury bus ride to Dar. The seats we were sitting in were about half the size of our luxury bus seats, but at least they were together and sort of towards the front. Within minutes an older man boarded the bus and started yelling at us to get out of his seat. We thought he just wanted to switch with us for the seats directly behind so we kind of ignored him, but he persisted and the bus driver came over and looked at our tickets and told us to get out of the older man’s seat. The bus driver pointed towards the back of the bus and told us our seats were back there. We stood up and looked back but did not see two seats in the back. But because people were pushing and yelling at us we got up and moved back.
One side of the bus had two seats together. The other side of the bus had three seats together. Our seats at the back of the bus were on the side with three seats. An African woman with healthy hips was sitting by the window in our row and taking up her seat and half of one of our seats. Because my legs are so long Jodie graciously sat in the middle seat. But because Jodie only had half a seat she sat in part of my seat. I sat down but technically only half of me made it on the seat. The seat in front of me was broken and reclined on top of my legs. The backing of the seat in front of me had no cushion so when the man who was assigned to that seat sat down my knees lodged into his lower back. I had to turn my body so my legs were completely in the aisle. The woman directly across from me whose legs fit very comfortably in her seat space insisted on having her right leg in the aisle so that I couldn’t put mine there. And of course the non-stop traffic of people going up and down the aisle forced me to return my legs into the lower back of the man in front of me.

Every time we came to a weigh station about 10 people sitting at the back of the bus were told by the bus driver to stand in the aisle and come forward and crouch down. I found out after about the third time they did this that they were distributing the weight on the bus and if the police found out what was going on they would have been in trouble. So we made about five weigh station stops and each time the people got up and stood in the aisle they literally crushed my legs.
The bus would slow down quite a bit and let young teenage boys who were vendors come on board to sell snacks. This was torturous for me and my legs as they walked up and down the aisle. After about an hour the man sitting in front of me could not take it any longer and he complained loud enough to get the bus driver’s attention and the bus driver allowed the man to move to the front of the bus and he sat in a spot that wasn’t technically a seat.
But after that man left another person came within minutes who sitting behind us and took his seat. So my situation remained the same.

We rode on and on and on like this. The bus stopped briefly multiple times, but never long enough for anyone to get off. The minutes ticked away slowly. I was sitting in a VERY THINLY PADDED seat with half my bottom on it and a metal bar that stuck out the back of the seat and jammed into my back.
Jodie sat crammed between me and an African woman who was under the impression that Jodie’s lap was there for her to set her bags on. The position Jodie was locked into was almost as if she were hugging herself and unable to move her arms…arms crossed, shoulders raised and no where to go.

After about three and a half hours of sitting like this we came to a stop and the woman next to Jodie purchased roasted corn on the cob through the bus window. I hadn’t eaten since 8am and it was now about 3:30pm. I took one look at that corn, handed Jodie some money and we asked that lady to order us some corn and two waters. Within a minute she handed them to us and we felt like we were just handed the best snack in the world. We were so happy to eat our corn. We were hungry and dehydrated and that corn and water were at that moment the best thing since apple pie!!!
We were giddy! I took out my phone and snapped photos of us enjoying our corn (the photo at the beginning of this blog is an actual photo taken on the bus). After eating our corn and drinking our water we were content for a time. But as the hours dragged on and the continual leg crushing in the aisle continued and the metal bar in my back dug deeper, we began to feel the toll of the bus ride…not to mention the fact that this bus was not stopping for us to get off for a potty break. It rolled on and on, stopping quite often but not long enough to let us get off. This bus ride just never seemed to end.

Finally after 7 ½ hours the bus stopped for a break. We had 10 minutes to use the restroom and purchase something to eat. The food that was being sold was scary, but Jodie and I were so hungry and slightly delirious at that point that we purchased food and ate it.
We boarded the bus after our brief stop and by that time the sun had set. Now you have to understand that Africans don’t like to be cold and when it turns dark all windows that are down all go up. So as the bus rolled on everyone slammed their windows closed. It didn’t take long for the inside of the bus to turn into an oven. Mix our oven bus with various odors floating around and not able to escape due to no fresh air circulation and that equals a bad case of nausea. Place on top of that bad food at our 10 minute stop and the next three hours were quite miserable.

Culturally buses stop when there are people on the side of the road who need a ride. The last four hours of our trip our bus kept stopping over and over and over picking up people and the bus kept filling up with bodies. There already were no available seats on the bus so all these people just stood in the aisle. An already crowded bus was beyond crowded. At one point all I could do was picture myself throwing open a window and vomiting. I was so tired, in physical pain and now nauseous. Come to find out after we got home, Jodie felt the same way too. We were literally holding on to our sanity by the grace of God.
Jodie had her electronic Yahtzee game in her purse. She tried to play it but her arms couldn’t reach enough to see the game so she had to put it away. All we did was sit and stare out the window. Thank the Lord for the beauty in Africa because the view was lush green all around us.
10 ½ hours later we reach our destination: Moshi!!! I’d never been so happy to exit a vehicle! That bus ride made all our other public transportation experiences seem like nothing…and we’ve had some doozies! We once rode in an 8 person van with 22 people, two goats and 10 bags of cement with a naughty music video playing at deafening volume. Thinking about that bus ride now seems like nothing compared to the 10 ½ hours we just endured!

We arrived home late at night but so thankful to be home.
So there you go! Another adventure!
I am so happy to be home!!!