The Trip That Broke the Hartsel Sketchiometer
Trip Start
Jul 18, 2007
1
4
11
Trip End
Ongoing
Dodoma,
Tanzania
Saturday, September 8, 2007
Lindsey, Monika, Anna, and I decided we wanted to go to Lake Victoria and Rubondo Island for part of our independent travel time. We thought it would be a lovely week spent with the girls on the edge of the second largest lake in the world. Little did we know that this trips would push our boundaries of sanity, patience, and yes even hygiene. We began our trek in Dar. The power had gone out the night before so none of our phones were charged, and I wasn't packed, hoping that the power would come back on in the morning. What a foolish hope. I pack in the dark, trying not to wake Eva as I stumble into everything in our room. I decide against showering since cold showers in the morning aren't my favorite thing in the world, and I decided that cold showers in the dark in the morning would be even worse. Eventually we are all packed and strapped into our backpacks, ready to head out the door. Overall I feel this is going fairly smoothly. It is a fine Saturday the 25th of Agust. Then as we were walking back from dumping our garbage before going to the bus station, Anna trips over a root, bites the corner of her lip, draws a lot of blood and scrapes up her knees and hands. However, she claims its nothing and we hop a daladala to the bus station, as she mops her self up. We get to the bus station and are immediately assaulted with the typical "Hey sistas, where you going?" "Need a ticket?" "Very cheap price" We battle our way through the fray, led by me with my best, its seven oclock in the morning please do not approach me face and get to the Shabiby bus office. They lead us to where our bus should be and say wait there and then they leave. We wait. We wait some more. It is getting dangerously close to 8 oclock and no bus. The seven thirty bus is there and the eight thirty bus is there, but no eight. Lindsey starts to panic. As luck would have it, we strike up a conversation with two Mt. Kili guides, one kind of normal (David) and the other a rastifarian (Elia or something like that). They are super nice and decide that they aren't going to get on their bus until they are sure that we are safe and secure on our bus. They leave us breifly and start arguing in swahili with a couple different bus drivers. As it turns out, our bus hit something on the way to the station and thats why it was late. David and Elia stay with us until it shows up. Elia had some very deep rasta words about the world being a giant classroom and we're all teachers and students at some point. I was highly amused. Finally our bus shows up with a big crack in the front windsheild. David and Elia push us through the crowd, carrying our bags for us, get us seated in our seats and our bags stored. I think I could have kissed them. They were so amazingly helpful and were not trying to get anything like some of the people we encountered. They just wanted us to get on our bus. It was lovely. The Shabiby bus was the first sketchy activity of the trip, though pales in comparison to our later modes of transportation. Everything about the Shabiby bus is red, from the luggage racks to the plastic covered seats. I was sitting next to a woman and her baby which takes up a lot of room so I was on the edge of my seat for most of it. I really wasn't complaining though because the ticket to Dodoma was only 10,000Tsh (we got a discount because one of the guys at the office thought that Lindsey was cute). It was bumpy and nothing like our Royal Coach bus at the begining of August. However, we make it to the Dodoma train station with only sort of sore backsides and a good couple of hours until our train leaves.
Oh the Train. At the time, it rated probably about a five on the Hartsel Sketchiometer. We chose second class to save money so our compartment held six people. We walk in and we see this small room with three bunks on each wall, sick pea grean in color, tattered leather constraints haning off of the sides in an attempt to keep you safe from falling out of your bunk as you tried to catch some sleep in the bumping and roling of the train. Aside from being small and hot, it wasn't really all bad. I mean sure, we were supposed to be stopped in one town for four hours but really it was only two and we almost missed the train, but who doesn't like a bit of adrenaline. Monika and I had gotten off the train to find some lunch, but since it was sunday by this time, most everything was closed. So we decide to go to this little...place...by the train station which would probably rate about a 13 on the ten point scale of the sketchiometer. It was dirty, there were flies everywhere, someone was fainting in the kitchen, two women were having a cat fight outside as onlookers just laughed. The waitress didn't speak any English and her Swahili was very hard to understand. We finally managed to order some eggs and rice which seemed the safest option at the time. Then, as we were waiting for our food, this extremely drunk man came and sat down with us and started talking to us in extremely fast, extremely slurred Swahili. Needless to say we caught about one word of it. I don't think I have ever been so uncomfortable in my entire life. Finally, we understood that he was asking us where we were going and we said Mwanza. Someone at the next table looked up, and yelled "Mwanza treni dakika tano" Which we figured out meant our train was leaving in five minutes. Monika and I were more than happy to get away so we run, but then the waitress runs after us looking for money for food we didn't eat, but we gave it to her anyway and keep running. Then the creepy guy from the table is running after us, so we run faster but he catches up with us and gives us a plastic bag filled with eggs and rice. Great. We get back to our compartment with a little bit of time to spare. It was so stressful. The rest of the ride was fairly uneventful. Tanzania is a beautiful country. The landscape is very dramatic especially in the setting sun, and no one has sunsets like Africa. There were these huge rock formations scattered about between lone trees and bushes and then the sky turns purple orange behind them and suddenly the edges of everything become sharp and distinct against the sun. It is absolutely phenomenal to behold. We finally get to Mwanza at about 11:30pm Sunday night (over 24 hours in a train=gross) and manage to find a taxi to the Deluxe Hotel. What follows will have to be saved for another entry.
