A Ride to Remember

The best way I know how to describe the experience of riding a dala dala, the public bus, is the well-known phrase “packed in like a can of sardines.” I’ve heard that phrase a number of times and can now safely say I really know what it feels like to be crammed into a space too small for even a few tiny fish. My first few times on a dala dala I felt like Bambi still trying to find her legs but I like to think that now I am pretty skilled at it; I can distinguish the various stops the konda (conductor) calls every few minutes which used to sound more like ‘supercalifragilisticexpialidocious’ than anything during my first months in country, I can look out the window and identify the various stops before the konda even calls them, I know that when he jingles a fistful of gold coins in my direction he is asking for the 400 shilling fare, I can determine with one quick glance which dalas are truly packed to the gills and which ones I may be able to squeeze myself onto without risk of falling out as it races over bumps and around cars, and most importantly, I know how to arrange myself in such a way that allows at least five more people to squeeze onto the already over packed dala. After all of the twisting and turning and holding myself up in less than comfortable positions I have done in the last six months, I think  I may have a promising career as a contortionist one day. 

Some days it is easy to get on a dala and be comfortable, maybe even find a seat in the first ten minutes of the ride but today that was not the case. Today I truly felt like I was a part of a school of fish crowded into a metal box without any room to breathe. Most days I am not carrying anything, except for maybe a shoulder bag which really isn’t a burden. But today, I happened to be coming back from doing a bit of food shopping for my community. So now, not only was I on the most crowded bus ever but I was also down a hand usually used for bracing myself. I was carrying a grocery bag that must have weighed at least 4 pounds. Maybe that doesn’t seem like a lot but when you are being jostled to and fro on a fast moving vehicle inches from the open door, I might as well have been carrying a 50 pound anvil. For the first few minutes of the journey, I was about five inches away from the edge of the step off the dala, the only thing separating me from the fast moving concrete under us….one swerve too many and I would be rolling in the street as the dala dala continued to zoom away. Luckily, as I was beginning to think I couldn’t hold on any longer, we reached the most popular stop along our route, Ubungo, where the coach bus station is located. Many of my fellow riders got off here and I was able to move into the aisle, a more stable spot to stand and much further away from the open door. With each stop we made, more people got off and I slowly got pushed back even further in the aisle. I breathed a sigh of relief, telling myself I was going to make it home in one piece after all. Then, as it happens at least once a day, I got my dose of Tanzanian generosity.  As I tried to keep holding on with only one hand, a trick I am still trying to master, a Tanzanian woman not much older than myself tapped me on the arm. When I looked down at her, she simply offered her lap as a safe haven for the bag I was desperately clinging to as the circulation drained from my fingers. Breathing an even deeper sigh of relief, I handed my bag to the kind woman, and grabbed the bar above my head with both hands this time; from that point forward, the ride was a piece of cake until we reached my stop. I took my bag, thanked the generous woman for her help, and pushed and shoved my way off the dala in the same fashion as when I boarded it.

As I reflect on today’s journey, I realize what an appropriate metaphor it is for this experience. In the beginning, I was unsure I could do it; I feared not being able to hold on, that I would never truly be comfortable in the situation, and was sure I would fall within the first few minutes. But as time passed and I become accustomed to my new surroundings, I began to breathe more easily. By the end, I was confident and knew that it was all going to work out just fine, with a little bit of help from a few nice people along the way. So, as I dive deeper into this adventure (and practice riding dala dalas one handedly), I will remember today’s dala dala ride fondly, reminding myself that if I just hold on the best I can, I will make it out on the other side in one piece, a stronger version of myself.