Do you know that sinking feeling in your stomach when you realize that a plan you’ve made is just not fated to work out? That moment when you realize at you will have to revisit your expectations? Earlier today was the first time in Tanzania I have had this feeling, but I expect it will not be the last.
Delays and changed plans are a common occurence here, but I did not begin my day expecting such a significant change of plans. Originally, the group of Kagera region volunteers (4 of us) were slated to leave the city on Monday morning, meaning that we would arrive in Ngara sometime midday on Tuesday. However, we discovered there was no Monday bus, and the field director (Ashley) bought us a ticket for Tuesday morning.
I woke up at 4:30 this morning to finish packing my bags, to be ready for a 5 am departure from the hostel. We loaded our bags and headed to the Ubungo bus station, where all of the greyhound style busses in Dar leave from. I say greyhound style because they are large passengers buses, but that is where the similarities end. There are no bathrooms on board, which honestly might be a good thing, and the stops are infrequent at best. Passengers are advised to drink only to prevent dry mouth, and the first leg of the trip to Ngara (from Dar to Kahama) could take as long as 17 hours, depending on the traffic and many other possible mishaps.
So, we arrived at the bus station around 5:40 am this morning. It opens at 5 am, but all the busses leave at 6, and beginning around 5 the place becomes an absolute madhouse. The sun has not yet risen, and people are running around, shouting, and trying to find their buses among a maze of people, cars, and of course, buses. Getting to the bus was simply crazy, even compared to the market in Kariakoo which simply blew my mind. Two porters carried the vast majority of the luggage on two-wheeled push carts, as the girls have far to much to carry themselves, and they ran through the maze like they were being chased by some dark evil. They wanted 40,000 shillings, but we ended up only paying 20,000, which is still quite a bit for the 10 minutes (of admittedly very hard work) they did.
We arrived at the bus, and one of the crazier negotiations I have ever witnessed began. Three men who work for the bus line proceeded to tell Ashley that there was no space on the bus for our luggage, and that we were going to have to pay for luggage, which is against the policy of the bus company. So, she spent the next 20 minutes trying to convince these men that we didn’t need to pay. I was only able to pick up on bits and pieces of the conversation, but from what was relayed back to us, one man was more concerned about marrying Ashley than getting our bags on board, and the others just wanted to make an extra buck. Ultimately, they suggested that all our bags might go on another bus to Kahama, while we took the original bus. This was not acceptable to us, as we figured it would probably be the last we would ever see of our bags, and so as 6 am rolled around the bus simply rolled off without us, as our stomaches dropped in disbelief. As they say, “this is Africa.” Our Swahili teacher taught us that in Tanzania they say TIT (or, “this is Tanzania”).
In the end, we stored our bags in a luggage room that these men promised was safe, and they assured us that the bags would make it on to the bus tomorrow. I think that they probably will. My feeling was that everyone involved wanted to make some extra cash, but that none of them would actually go so far as the rifle through our bags and steal our things. At least I hope so. Wish me luck tomorrow. TIT.