4:20 AM Awoke, in the dark, at the New Paris Guest House in
Makambako. The power is out. This means no shower. Good start to the day.
4:50 Waiting outside by the Sunrise Guest House (hostels are
often given spectacular names by people who don’t speak English. The Flamingo
is a personal favorite.) I put the wind-chill at about 15 degrees Fahrenheit. I’m
not dressed for the moment.
5:15 Picked up by our rented coaster (a mini-bus, holds about 35), already half hour late.
5:50 Arrive in Idetero, where I live. My fellow chaperones are
waiting, with half of the 30 expected students. Here we go.
6:21 Finally set out, sadly short 2 students. Don’t know what the
problem was, but we have far to go and can’t wait any longer. We are two
minutes into the trip, and I’m disappointed :(
6:42 The first child vomits. For many of the students on this
trip, this is their first time in a car of any kind. Strange landscapes are
flashing by, the trees are running backwards, and it’s more than a little
disorienting.
6:57 We see the actual sunrise, not the guest house, as we
approach Mafinga
7:02 Arrive in Mafinga, or as I like to call it, the Paris of
East Africa. The record should show that I am the only one who likes to call it
that.
7:04 Biskuti time. Biskuti are essentially Animal Crackers, if
they were drained of any nutritional value. They are bland, soul-less,
teeth-rotting snack food. My kids, and I, love them.
7:11 We add a theoretical child. The driver of the bus is aware
that we set out 2 kids short, and asks if his kid, who lives in a village on
the way, can tag along. I ponder. I agree.
7:14 A random guy from the District Education Office decides to
hop a ride with us, along with his son. The principal of my school agrees
before I can say no.
7:15 We leave Mafinga with me annoyed
7:29 As we drive by, I show all of the kids the house that my
counterpart is building. They are agog. They haven’t yet hit the age where
teachers become real people.
7:31 We hit our first police checkpoint. Undoubtedly some money
changes hands. We move along.
8:01 2nd child begins to vomit. They are cared for.
8:12 The theoretical child that I had previously agreed to
becomes an actual child. His name is Ben.
8:15 Second police checkpoint. They wear long white lab coats.
8:18 We reach our first road-work stop. The highway between
Iringa and Mafinga is being refurbished. Road work here is a massive
undertaking, and there’s a fair amount of illegality involved. On the plus
side, I buy two amazing roadside sambusas.
8:33 We pass through on the road construction, and since most of
the road is already paved and the traffic is only going one way, our driver
decides to play slalom with the traffic cones. He apparently has not noticed
the vomiting.
8:34 We pass by an oil-tanker truck. There are goats standing on
top of it. The day goes on.
8:40 Second road-work stop. I long, not for the first time, to be
living in an age of teleportation.
8:52 A commercial comes on the radio about primary school
teachers and parents who help their kids cheat to pass the national exams. I
share a look with my counterpart. The principal of our school is alleged to
have participated in similar chicanery. If the lions come after us, I’m voting
him to be eaten first.
9:08 We hit the first speed bump on the road up to Iringa. There
are 14.
9:13 We hit the last speed bump
9:15 We go into a dead end in Iringa, trying to look for
breakfast.
9:17 We pull off a successful retreat from the dead end.
9:19 We get off and stop for breakfast, or as its called here,
chai. Dan forgets notebook. Nothing too special happened. We turned down one
breakfast nook, and then the proprietor stalks after me, holding the chapatti she
had cooked for us. I pay her hush money and take the chapatti.
10:18 Dan recovers notebook, and we are back on the road.
10:25 Third police checkpoint. The conductor (that’s what we call
him) of the bus gets out. Then so does the driver. This can’t be good.
10:45 We finally leave the third checkpoint, with me fuming.
There’s a huge problem in Tanzania
with people taking justice into their own hands (i.e. killing thieves the
moment they are caught), because nobody trusts the police to not let criminals
go for a price. I understand the reasoning.
10:49 The kids are too quiet. I fear a coup.
10:53 We reach the end of the paved road. About 70 dusty miles
still to go, and go slowly.
11:00 We stop to chimba dawa. The literal translation is “dig
medicine”. We use it when we go to the bathroom. I’ve lived here 2 years. Still
don’t get it.
11:11 Do we have a flat tire?
11:12 No, we don’t.
11:30 The road turns into a washboard. Some of us start making
noises and listen to our voices rattle.
11:46 Third child vomits. This is becoming a problem.
11:59 The unwanted guests from the District get out. I was stoic
when we said farewell. No tears.
12:15 More washboard road. These coasters are made of aluminum
and fiberglass. You could break one with a good baseball bat. I hear myself
saying to Kenzie, “Don’t worry, she’ll hold together.” Then I hear myself
between my ears, saying, “Hear me baby, hold together.”
12:28 I try to nap.
12:39 I give up.
12:52 I am determined to drive on. There are about five kids in
various stages of vomiting or recovery. Kenzie persuades me to take a break
under a tree where some village child is selling sugar cane. She’s right. We
stop, give the sick ones water and a little food, and stretch.
1:08 Back on the bus!
1:38 We arrive in beautiful Tungamalenga, which is where we will
be eating and sleeping for the next 24 hours or so.
1:56 Our pre-arranged cook has all of the food ready, and there’s
enough of it, and it’s at the price we previously agreed to. This has never
happen. I kiss her on the mouth. Then fight her husband. He wins. We eat!
2:15 I finish my pilau (tasty spiced rice) and beans in about 2
minutes. The people who don’t eat like industrial cleaning appliances are still
going. I can’t sit still. I decide to walk to our campground to let them know
that we are here, even though we won’t be showing up there till about 9 at
night.
2:33 The rest of the group finishes eating, and under Kenzie’s
guidance, boards the bus and leaves to go towards the park.
2:43 The group picks me up by the side of the road. From here
till the park, there are no houses, no nothing. Just the possibility of
animals. I promise a celebratory cheer for the first one to spot game.
2:51 The tension builds.
2:57 It becomes unbearable.
3:00 10 hours, 40 minutes, and about 200 miles from when and
where I woke up…we see Elephants!!!
3:01 I send a text message to my future wife and current mother,
two of the biggest masterminds of this hare-brained scheme, letting them know
that they had made it happen.
3:02 Kenzie, as the spotter, receives her “pasha” that literally
means to warm up. It actually means we clap for somebody.
3:11 We drive through the entrance arch. I’m reminded of Jurassic Park…and then hope that doesn’t prove
prophetic.
3:19 I get us a permit, and we are allowed into the park.
3:28 We take a group picture, lest my fiancée get mad at yours
truly.
3:31 We enter the park.
3:33 As has happened more and more often over the last year, I
realize that I am living out of one of the greatest days of my life. I look out
the window, and I cry a little bit.
3:51 We reach the bridge over the mighty Ruaha. Below, there are
hippos! The kids don’t believe me that they are actually huge creatures. All
they see are the heads.
4:16 I spot giraffes off the starboard side! They are
long-necked, with flirty eyelashes, and my kids go crazy for them.
4:32 We pick up a guide at the park HQ.
4:47 There are zebras to one side, elephants to another, giraffe
off in the distance, and impalas everywhere. This is beginning to feel
suspiciously like a success.
5:02 The guide opens things up to questions. My students start
interrogating him, which questions basically equivalent to, “if a hippo and a
giraffe and an elephant could fly, who would win in a race?” He’s a good sport,
and always pivots to the educational point.
5:34 Do we have a flat tire?
5:36 They tell me we do not.
6:25 The sun, which rose on us in Mafinga 12 hours and a lifetime
ago, sets behind the dried-out grasslands of Ruaha.
6:27 We drop off the guide, with only a half hour to make it back
to the gate before it closes. I didn’t write too much in the last two hours.
Trust me when I tell you, it was unbelievable.
6:33 The driver is flying on the dirt road to get back to the
gate. We had 33 minutes. It took us about 40 going out. I think he may be
afraid of sleeping near lions.
6:57 Gate! 3 minutes to spare. Some of my kids wanted to go to
the bathroom. I told them to hold it till the gate. One hops out when we pull
up, then hikes up her skirt and pees next to the bus. Little more gender
equality here when it comes to public urination.
7:04 We leave the gate, after the rest of the students make use
of the indoor facilities.
7:40 Back in Tungamalenga, we eat a delicious, well-deserved,
well-prepared meal. The ones who were sick, who didn’t eat lunch, devour their
food like there’s a bomb at the bottom of the rice. I wander out into the night
to buy more water. It’s hot and it’s beautiful and there are stars everywhere.
Makambako, with its bitter wind, feels very far away.
8:00 Fatigue abruptly settles in. I need a bed.
8:36 The kids get back onto the bus, giggling. Some of them are
as old as 14. I begin to worry about late night rendezvous…
9:05 We arrive at the campsite, where the workers waited up for
us. No electricity, but enough flashlights.
9:12 I have a short, quiet talk with the kids, thank them for not
being unbearable, and congratulate them. We split them up into tent groups.
9:16 We have to show them how to use tents.
9:33 Kenzie and I see a group of Americans, who are here doing
research, playing a late night game of hearts. We sit down with them and slowly
begin to unwind.
9:51 The owner, who I suspect of being involved in organized
crime and who I really like. He was at a funeral, which explains the distant
drums. I pay him about $500 for the rooms…in the equivalent of $6.5 bills. This
is a lot of bills.
10:14 Kenzie knows where our tent is. She can’t find it. We’re
wandering in the dark, but the moon is close to full, and is up, and is
gorgeous. I do wonder about how far lions stray from the park.
10:18 We find the tent.
10:25 After a four-minute struggle with the zipper, we get it
closed with us inside. I immediately want to go to the bathroom.
10:34 As you can do only when you’re satisfied and exhausted, I
fall asleep two minutes before I’m in the bed. African drums are playing in the
distance, mourning a soul gone we know not where, and the moonlight is bright
enough to read by. There’s enough time for me to realize that all days are not
created equal, and that this was one of the special ones. And then, poof, my
lights are out.
The next day was no less of a success.
But getting home holds less uncertainty: you know the road, you know the
obstacles. Sure, when I awoke I found out that we had blown a tire the day
before, and had to put in the spare…which meant about 5 hours of driving on
dirt roads with no spare…which was nerve-wracking. We got into the park, saw
kudu, warthogs, waterbucks, mongooses, elephants, giraffe, hippos, and
crocodiles. To my students’ disappointment, and mine, we saw no lions. They
often hang out off the road, our guide said, and with our big bus we couldn’t
go bush-whacking. Something for the next volunteer to rectify, I guess. On our
way out of the park we stopped by the hippo pool. I climbed over a rock to
check out another site for hippos, and when I got back, half my students were
gone. Turns out my counterpart was having them gather elephant dung to use in
traditional remedies. I was displeased, to put it mildly. But we took a group
picture, watched a croc glide gracefully towards us in the water…and we left.
There’s a way you turn your brain off on
long bus rides here. Sometimes it means a nap, sometimes just a catatonic state
where you wait for the bumping to stop. That’s where I was about halfway back,
when my kids started to sing. All different songs, all different melodies, just
kids singing in the back of a bus after a long, successful trip. I felt, all of
a sudden, like I was in high school again, in the back of a dark bus somewhere
on 390. I wish I could have piped their singing back home, for all of you to
hear, all of you that made this trip possible. It sounded like victory. It
sounded like joy. Thank you all, and congratulations.
You did it.
