I Miss MUNI

In San Francisco, I completely LOATHE taking the bus (MUNI, for the non-San Francisco readers). All the stops and starts and the jostling around as the bus climbs up and down the San Francisco hills… On several occasions I have even gotten out of the bus early and vomited on the sidewalk.

So after a week in Moshi and Arusha, I was pretty petrified to ride the local buses, which are called daladala. In fact, I tried just about everything I could to avoid taking one. You see, daladala aren’t really buses. They’re vans. Kind of like the old Volkwagen vans from the 1960s. And they are decorated, too! They aren’t decorated with flowers or peace symbols, but they are decorated with just about everything else. There are many daladala covered in religious messages. Some are covered with pictures of rappers from Tanzania or America. We saw one daladala that had “Chocolate” painted on the side. I’m not entirely sure how the system works, but I think daladala drivers purchase or lease their own vehicles and then decorate them however they wish. And I think the drivers must be rewarded for having the most “pieces of flair.”

Anyway, the decorations aren’t what make them scary. Everything else about the daladala makes them scary. First, our friend Goodluck told us an old saying, “The bucket can be full, but the daladala can never be full.” I bet it sounds a lot better in Swahili. Just when you don’t think it is possible to fit another person into a specific daladala, at least two more people find a way to cram into it. The driver sits in the front seat; and it is important to note that in Tanzania, the driver sits on the right side of the car because cars are driven on the left side of the road. Next, there is a doorman. He more or less has the lower half of his body in the daladala, but the upper half of his body hangs out the sliding door on the left side of the vehicle. “Moshono! Moshono!” or “Ngiro! Ngiro!” It is the doorman’s job to yell out the final destination of the daladala and to board people as quickly as possible. When the driver and doorman are satisfied with the number of people in the daladala, the doorman bangs on the vehicle and away we go…

Passengers pile in and  hope to score a seat either in the front row passenger seat, first row (seats two), second row (seats three), the fourth row (seats three but can squeeze one more), or the fifth row (seats four). That means the daladala should be able to accommodate 13 travelers, plus the driver and doorman. But the daladala isn’t a Volvo, it’s more of a clown car, so 13 is really just a starting point. Two skinny Tanzanians can definitely squeeze into the passenger seat. And someone can sit on the “hump” section that separates the passenger seat from the driver seat. And since it’s OK for an arm or head to poke out the window, each row can definitely fit another person. Speaking of rows, there is a “ledge” of sorts behind the passenger and driver seats, so a few extra people can sometimes squat there, as well. Hopefully those people brushed their teeth, because they will be breathing on top of the people in the first row of back seats. Then there’s the “hallway” section of the daladala next to the door. Since the doorman’s body is only halfway in the daladala, and also because not all of the sliding doors shut all the way, an extra three people can crouch in the “hallway” section of the vehicle.

During my first daladala ride, I sat in the first row next to the doorman. On this vehicle, the sliding door didn’t close all the way. So when the driver decided to speed UP for a speed bump in the middle of the road, the door flew open and the doorman, whose torso was of course hanging outside the window, was nearly cut in two. A passenger standing in the “hallway” grabbed his shirt so that he wouldn’t fall completely out of the daladala. Amidst this commotion, I had pretty much latched myself onto Jeremy’s backpack so that I, too, didn’t fall out of the daladala. But this experience has taught us a valuable lesson: Nicole boards the daladala before Jeremy in order to take a window or middle seat, and Jeremy can sit by the door…
And on Monday, when Jeremy and I returned to Arusha after visiting the village of Malangarini for our work with St. Lucia, we were probably passengers 24 and 25 on the daladala. We stood / crouched / balanced in the “hallway” as the daladala plowed over bumpy dirt roads for nearly thirty minutes. Once we made it back to town, where the roads are paved but nonetheless scary, we braced the ceiling of the daladala as the driver zoomed and passed cars going too “pole pole” for his liking for another 15 minutes. I think Jeremy and I both pulled muscles in our backs trying to not fall on top of fellow passenger during this time.

Needless to say, I am always thrilled when we reach our stop and can begin walking again. Except yesterday morning, when we had to get out of the daladala earlier than planned, because it had gotten stuck in a ditch. See, once we reach the end of the paved road at Moshono, we have a couple more miles to travel on a dirt road. And yesterday, our driver decided to drive on the dirt sidewalk rather than the dirt road, as it actually has fewer potholes. The problem is that the one pothole it did have was so big that the daladala got stuck in it.

However, if there is one thing Jeremy and I love, it is an adventure. Especially a cultural adventure. And every daladala ride is an adrenaline-packed Tanzanian journey! All for the bargain price of 300 Tanzanian Shillings (about $0.25 USD) a ride. And after this summer, I promise I’ll never complain about the public transportation in San Francisco again!