Daladalas and more excitement

The daladalas are a continuous source of laughter, frustration and fear for us volunteers in Mwanza. The daladala is a minibus, and besides walking, is the primary source of transportation here. Imagine an old van circa 1980 something. Now imagine that van stripped of all interior parts, save for a dingy upholstered ceiling and three rows of bench seating covered in vinyl.

Now imagine cramming around 32 strangers in the van with you, and that is a typical daladala experience. The roads (well trails almost) are incredibly bumpy, and I have thought I would lose a kidney on more than one occasion. With the average temp being around 82 degrees, you also get the joy of completely sticking to your vinyl seat. When you get out 30 minutes later, your clothes are wet, your nerves raw.

Most of the time it's a great experience. You live like the locals, visit with them, and save money as the daladala is about $0.35. (A taxi would be $5.00) Last week we ended up on the bad daladala, with a driver who is notorious for being drunk. Once we got off the village roads, and got to the highway that leads to town, he drove at breakneck speeds and we came about3 feet away from going head on with a large semi truck. There were two terrified women with babies, and all the passengers were yelling at the driver, who only drove faster. Tom, one of our volunteers, yelled at him to pull over, and we got off on the side of the road. I've never been so glad to escape a vehicle in my life.

In other news this week, I've got a few more local friends, and it's nice to feel like you're more a member of the community, and less of an outsider. I've received my second marriage proposal since coming to Africa. Unfortunately, they seem to come from men who have just met you and have a sign from God, or in a dream, that they should marry you. They seem genuinely surprised when the answer is no!