I spent the next couple days hanging around Arusha. Checking out the markets, the new part of town and looking into buses to different locations. I really like looking at the local markets, I find it very interesting. Not just the souvenirs, but the clothes, shoes, food, house supplies, etc. People here are really resourceful. For example, the Masai make sandal type shoes out of old tires. 
My friend Ryann and I decided to go to Moshi for a couple days so we headed there one late morning on the dalla dalla. Gotta love being on those minibuses. They don't leave until every seat is filled and then, on the way to the destination, more people are picked up. Yup, overcrowded and loaded with bags full of coal, produce, rice or flour and passengers with chicken in cages or boxes with heads sticking out. Clucking all the way. We checked into Kilimanjaro Backpackers, which is a sister hostel to Arusha Backpackers. Same price, but much quieter. Yay.
We walked around town looking at fabrics for dresses. We both were thinking about getting a dress made from the tailor. They can make it within 1-2 days. Really fast! And they have such nice African designs. Most of the woman wear one pattern as either a dress or top with skirt. However, there are some with 2 different patterns. But, they like it busy.
We then caught the dalla dalla to Marangu, a village at the base of Mount Kilimanjaro. I met a nice local girl on the way that I was sitting beside named Anette. We started talking, she liked to laugh a lot. Anette told me she liked me and that we where now friends and wanted to join us for our walk to the waterfall. She said she'd show us the way, after she swings by her school. So, we popped into her college, had a little tour, then hiked our way to the Kinukamori waterfall. It was a beautiful day with the sun shining and the water was refreshing. Unfortunately, it was too shallow to swim in, but nice to cool the feet off.
There was a lovely staircase, cocooned by vegetation to the top of the falls where a cave from the local Chaga tribe was. It's now a tourist attraction, but you are allowed to go inside and see how they lived in it. There's a tunnel, with a decent sized cavern at the end where they made their home. A fire pit was in there, the ceiling was stained black from the smoke. Another small dugout was just a meter inside the tunnel's entrance so that the man could guard his family from enemies.
After we explored the surrounding area, following the river and seeing lots of farmland (more bananas) we headed back to Moshi.
We said goodbye to our friend and booked tickets for our next destination. Ryann was going to head to Mombasa on the coast of Kenya and I was going to make my way to Gombe Stream National Park to see one of Jane Goodall's chimpanzee reserves.
We then went to an eatery by the hostel. It was inexpensive, local food that was absolutely delicious! I had a Zanzibar pizza that looked irresistible on the grill outside the shop. It was a pastry shell stuffed with egg, beef, cheese, mayo, onions, tomatoes and few other things (not sure what else), then fried on a hot skillet. Hmmm, heaven! I also had the kuku mishkaki, which is marinated chicken kebabs. There wasn't many seats, so we shared a table with 2 local boys. We all started chatting and by the end of the evening, we were exchanging emails and phone numbers. We made plans to meet up again for dinner the next night. Which after a lazy day around Moshi, enjoying the early morning view of Kilimanjaro (before the clouds role in) we did. Same place, same time.
The next morning, I said goodbye to Ryann and went to catch my 6 am bus to Tabora with Best Line. The bus left on time, stored my big backpack in the compartment below and had decent seating. It was a very long ride. Whenever the locals say it'll take 7 hours... expect longer! And they don't make regular bathroom stops. Luckily, I did get one on this ride... 6.5 hours into it. I learned quickly to not drink and eat little while on the buses. Otherwise, you'll be sorry!
We stopped in many towns and villages along the way, picking up more and more people. Wasn't long before the bus was overcrowded. People squished together, standing in the isle. Having to shove each other to get off at their stop. Luckily we had a tarmac road. Not as bumpy.
All along the way, either along the highway or at bus stands, locals would be selling their goods. On the highway, it was mostly coal, weaved baskets and jugs of sunflower oil. At the bus stands, it was everything. Woman had a bowl of fruit, like bananas or mangoes, on their head. Some had snacks like peanuts, cashews or roasted corn on the cob. The men would have nuts, cookies, chips, water, crackers, gum and sweets in a box or bowl either in their hand or on their head. Some even balanced a whole display of things like sunglasses, plastic jewelry and watches on their shoulders. No matter what they had, they'd run over to the arriving bus, hissing, pssting, yelling and banging on windows. Passengers would open their window, food shoved into their hand and then money would be exchanged. It was quite a show. My favourite snack was their peanuts. Nice and fresh. They'd boil them in salted water, drain and put in a plastic bag. It was really cheap, 30 cents for 1 kg, and when opening the shells, they peanuts were nice and warm. Not crunchy, I had to get used to the different texture, but delicious. I think I'll try that one day when I get home...
All along the way, either along the highway or at bus stands, locals would be selling their goods. On the highway, it was mostly coal, weaved baskets and jugs of sunflower oil. At the bus stands, it was everything. Woman had a bowl of fruit, like bananas or mangoes, on their head. Some had snacks like peanuts, cashews or roasted corn on the cob. The men would have nuts, cookies, chips, water, crackers, gum and sweets in a box or bowl either in their hand or on their head. Some even balanced a whole display of things like sunglasses, plastic jewelry and watches on their shoulders. No matter what they had, they'd run over to the arriving bus, hissing, pssting, yelling and banging on windows. Passengers would open their window, food shoved into their hand and then money would be exchanged. It was quite a show. My favourite snack was their peanuts. Nice and fresh. They'd boil them in salted water, drain and put in a plastic bag. It was really cheap, 30 cents for 1 kg, and when opening the shells, they peanuts were nice and warm. Not crunchy, I had to get used to the different texture, but delicious. I think I'll try that one day when I get home...
We had numerous police check points to go through, and most of the time they let us pass through without a hitch. But, other times, they wouldn't allow so many passengers so everyone not in a seat had to get off the bus. Then the bus conductors and driver would "negotiate" (cough! *bribe*) and everyone would get right back on and we'd carry on after the 5 to 30 mins delay.
After 10 hours, I was wondering when I'd be at my stop in Tabora. Next thing I knew, we were at a bus stand and I was told to get off here for Tabora. I looked around and thought, hmmm this doesn't seem right. I bought a ticket for Tabora, the bus is supposed to take me there (according to the ticket office) but the conductor was saying that I had to change buses. He said to take my ticket to the ticket office across from us (he pointed to it so I could see which one) and that they'd take me the rest of the way. Now, the road from this town to Tabora was a rough road, so I thought "ok, maybe this bus will only drive on tarmac and they have a partnership with this other company." So, I got off the bus, which of course I was then swarmed by people selling their goods and taxi men yelling Taxi! Taxi! I told the conductor I needed my kubwa baggie from under the bus. When he opened the door, a man picked it up, swung it on his shoulder and stood near me. Ok, great a porter. But, as I was trying to communicate to the conductor about why I needed to change buses, the porter slowly started walking away with my bag. I asked him to come back and to give me my bag, but he just looked at me confused. Now the conductor wanted to see my ticket, so I gave it to him and he said he'd give it to the new ticket office and starting walking there. I knew I should follow him, but the porter started wandering away again with my bag and I just thought "what the heck is going on, he's not really going anywhere, but he's not giving me my backpack either." So I walked up to him, politely said, "thanks but I need my bag now," strapped it on and went to the ticket both. My conductor was nowhere in sight and the bus took off. Great. Where's my ticket. I asked the man behind the counter if he had my ticket, but he just shook his head, "no english." Sigh, the bad part about being in a rural area and not speaking the native language.
After 10 hours, I was wondering when I'd be at my stop in Tabora. Next thing I knew, we were at a bus stand and I was told to get off here for Tabora. I looked around and thought, hmmm this doesn't seem right. I bought a ticket for Tabora, the bus is supposed to take me there (according to the ticket office) but the conductor was saying that I had to change buses. He said to take my ticket to the ticket office across from us (he pointed to it so I could see which one) and that they'd take me the rest of the way. Now, the road from this town to Tabora was a rough road, so I thought "ok, maybe this bus will only drive on tarmac and they have a partnership with this other company." So, I got off the bus, which of course I was then swarmed by people selling their goods and taxi men yelling Taxi! Taxi! I told the conductor I needed my kubwa baggie from under the bus. When he opened the door, a man picked it up, swung it on his shoulder and stood near me. Ok, great a porter. But, as I was trying to communicate to the conductor about why I needed to change buses, the porter slowly started walking away with my bag. I asked him to come back and to give me my bag, but he just looked at me confused. Now the conductor wanted to see my ticket, so I gave it to him and he said he'd give it to the new ticket office and starting walking there. I knew I should follow him, but the porter started wandering away again with my bag and I just thought "what the heck is going on, he's not really going anywhere, but he's not giving me my backpack either." So I walked up to him, politely said, "thanks but I need my bag now," strapped it on and went to the ticket both. My conductor was nowhere in sight and the bus took off. Great. Where's my ticket. I asked the man behind the counter if he had my ticket, but he just shook his head, "no english." Sigh, the bad part about being in a rural area and not speaking the native language.
I checked around to see if anyone spoke english and found one person who could understand a little. I asked him if he could translate for me that my ticket for Tabora was supposed to given to him so that his bus could take me there. But, the ticket man smiled and said he didn't have my ticket and "different company, need new ticket." Sigh, wonderful. So, my ticket was stolen by the other bus conductor, so I wouldn't have proof of purchase and I'd have to pay again. I asked when the next bus to Tabora would come, and he said "he come soon" with a smile.
Tanzanian time is not like home. 10 minutes for them is an hour for me. Needless to say, It took an hour before a bus came to the stand.
When it arrived, there was so much commotion. Funny how everyone is so calm while there's no buses, snoozing, drinking, peeling sugar cane, eating, cooking, just normal time spent away. Then boom! A bus arrives and everyone's frantic, grabbing their bowls, baskets and displays. Amusing scene to to watch.
I ended up losing the man that spoke a little english. I wasn't sure exactly where this bus was heading. I asked a few people, but they didn't know what I was saying. Finally, I heard a female voice behind me ask "are you ok? Do you need any help?" Ah, thank the gods! Someone who could tell me what's going on. So, after telling her all that happened, she shook her head and tsked, then said "this bus is going to Tabora. I go to school there so you sit with me. I take care of you." And she did. I sat with her on the bus. We made friends quickly. Triza was her name. She asked if I knew where I was staying and whether my room was booked yet. I told her I knew where I wanted to stay, but it wasn't booked yet. It's such a rural area, I figured I wouldn't have much trouble finding a room. Plus I had 2 other back up hotels. She said, "since it's dark and the bus offices will be closed, I'll take you to your hotel, help you bring your luggage into your room and then tomorrow morning, help you buy your bus ticket to your next destination to make sure it's a good company." So kind of her.
Luckily, I had no problem with my room, at the Golden Eagle hotel. We planned to meet up at 8 am the next morning before her classes started for the day. What a long day. Didn't arrive in Tabora until 10 pm. It was an anxious 3 hour drive as the rough road from the town to Tabora has a lot of robberies at night. Men stop the bus on the road with guns and get on board and take all your belongings. So, every time the bus slowed down, I could see men stand up to see why we where slowing and some woman holding their children tighter. Others, feel asleep, without a care. I admit, I was a bit tense, since I was expecting to arrive here by 4 pm not 10 pm, but we arrived with no problems what so ever. Triza would even say to me "Take care and be free. It'll be ok." But, I knew she meant, 'don't worry, there's nothing you can do if a robbery happens, just suck it up and deal with it.' Lol, strong woman. She was right of course, no point in worrying over something out of your control.
I ended up losing the man that spoke a little english. I wasn't sure exactly where this bus was heading. I asked a few people, but they didn't know what I was saying. Finally, I heard a female voice behind me ask "are you ok? Do you need any help?" Ah, thank the gods! Someone who could tell me what's going on. So, after telling her all that happened, she shook her head and tsked, then said "this bus is going to Tabora. I go to school there so you sit with me. I take care of you." And she did. I sat with her on the bus. We made friends quickly. Triza was her name. She asked if I knew where I was staying and whether my room was booked yet. I told her I knew where I wanted to stay, but it wasn't booked yet. It's such a rural area, I figured I wouldn't have much trouble finding a room. Plus I had 2 other back up hotels. She said, "since it's dark and the bus offices will be closed, I'll take you to your hotel, help you bring your luggage into your room and then tomorrow morning, help you buy your bus ticket to your next destination to make sure it's a good company." So kind of her.
Luckily, I had no problem with my room, at the Golden Eagle hotel. We planned to meet up at 8 am the next morning before her classes started for the day. What a long day. Didn't arrive in Tabora until 10 pm. It was an anxious 3 hour drive as the rough road from the town to Tabora has a lot of robberies at night. Men stop the bus on the road with guns and get on board and take all your belongings. So, every time the bus slowed down, I could see men stand up to see why we where slowing and some woman holding their children tighter. Others, feel asleep, without a care. I admit, I was a bit tense, since I was expecting to arrive here by 4 pm not 10 pm, but we arrived with no problems what so ever. Triza would even say to me "Take care and be free. It'll be ok." But, I knew she meant, 'don't worry, there's nothing you can do if a robbery happens, just suck it up and deal with it.' Lol, strong woman. She was right of course, no point in worrying over something out of your control.
Triza came by in the morning with her room mate Sia. Their classes where starting earlier than she thought so we decided to go at lunch time instead. I ended up meeting the manager, Al, in the morning. He wanted to know all the details of my adventure. So I filled him in.
Next thing I knew he got one of his employees to bring a ticket salesmen into his office. We double checked the bus would take me all the way to my next destination, Kigoma, without needing to change buses. He said this was a really good bus company so I would have no problems. I bought the ticket for the next morning and Al said his night watchman would walk me to my bus at 5:30 am. He gave me his email and number and told me to call him if I ever had any problems. Then, he called his friend Grace, who worked in Gombe Stream, but lived in Kigoma to meet me at the bus stand. He said she'd take me to my hotel and the water taxi for the following day. Really nice guy. And Grace too, since she didn't even know me. Lovely people. Made me feel so much better knowing someone would be waiting for me when I got off the bus this time.
I hung around the hotel and met some nice Americans. Two woman were working on a project called micro loans. They brought money to different towns where some local woman would be responsible for it.
Then locals would go to these woman for a loan and pay very little interest when they paid it back. They could take as long as they needed to pay it back and if they didn't, they wouldn't be able to get another loan. The interest made would then go to someone else as a loan and it would continue to grow. It helps people because they don't have to pay as high of an interest rate as the banks. They mentioned that the hard part is having people you can trust to take care of the money. But, they're sure they found honest woman. It was a nice idea and I hope it works out for them.
Then locals would go to these woman for a loan and pay very little interest when they paid it back. They could take as long as they needed to pay it back and if they didn't, they wouldn't be able to get another loan. The interest made would then go to someone else as a loan and it would continue to grow. It helps people because they don't have to pay as high of an interest rate as the banks. They mentioned that the hard part is having people you can trust to take care of the money. But, they're sure they found honest woman. It was a nice idea and I hope it works out for them.
At lunch, Triza and Sia came by, and since I already had my ticket I thought I could buy them lunch. They didn't want to eat, so instead we sat and had some sodas and they invited me over for dinner at their place for the evening.
I walked around the town for the afternoon, meeting store owners along they, practising my Swahili. Funny how even the smallest towns are full of life. Everyone out and about.
Triza came by my hotel around 7 pm and we walked hand in hand to her student housing. Sia was there and they started boiling water in their iron pots on top of a stove heated by coals. They lived in a cozy small room together with other students in similar rooms in a square. The middle was open to the sky so we could see all the stars while we cooked out there. Mind you, lightening was off in the distance, so we knew a storm was coming. But the flash of lightening was really nice, it would light up all the neighbourhood, since there were little places with electricity.
I met many of her friends and we had 4 other people join us for dinner. We had the traditional food of ugali (corn flour added to water and cooked until a paste) with sour milk and egg with tomato mixture. The ugali had no taste, but the egg was nice. To eat it, one takes some ugali in their hand, dip it into the egg mixture and place in your mouth, then chase it with the sour milk so it's not so dry. It was... interesting. The sour milk I don't think I could ever get used to. But, what a pleasant evening of leaning how they cook, seeing their normal day to day life and laughing at stories. It was hard to say goodbye to my new friends when they all walked me back to my hotel.
When I got to the bus stand the next morning, my bus wasn't there. It never arrived to Tabora. If I wanted to go to Kigoma I would have to go with another company. And there was only one. A smaller bus that looked like it had seen better days. Had some broken windows and worn seats, and a few to many conductors. I knew what that would mean. More overloading. That was just a little frustrating. See, once the seats are filled on the bus, all the extra people standing is money in the conductor and drivers pockets. That's why they have such motivation to crowd the bus.
I called Al, and he was able to translate and let me know that this other bus was indeed going all the way to Kigoma, but would be slower. It would be a 10 hour drive for the full 400 km.
So, I had to trade my old ticket for a new one, but at least no money was needed. I had a seat with one window that slide from my seat to the seat behind me. Leaving only one of us sheltered from the dust, wind or rain. Great, that would be fun. But at least the 2 other people sitting beside me were young university students who spoke english and were going to Kigoma like me. I felt secure. They were supposed to be on the other bus too, so they were going through the same thing.
The bus left Tabora 1 hour behind schedule. Don't know why, just waiting for more people I suppose. Then it went to get gas and fill the tires with air (why that wasn't done before or while we were sitting around waiting... I don't know). Finally we started our long drive. We got about 1.5 hours from Tabora, and we got stuck in the mud. With the rain from the storm the night before, all the dirt on the roads were thick mud. Luckily, this part of the road was under construction and a tractor pulled us out with some chains... twice (we got stuck 5 mins later).
It was an incredibly long ride. We were stopped once by the police for the overcrowding, but mostly, we drove so slow. The rough roads were really bumpy, with lots of puddles and mud. Poor pedestrians kept getting splashed with mud, since there were no sidewalks. Anytime we passed another bus, ours would stop and the driver and conductors would hop off to socialise with the others, eating and drinking. Didn't bother them at all that they had a bus cramped up with people, squeezed together that needed to go places.
The day carried on. We had a third time being stuck in the mud in a Masai village, where a lovely family let me use their toilet (a small fenced in dirt patch), and I was wondering when we'd be arriving in Kigoma. I asked my seating buddies, and the boy asked his brother who sat in front of us. He asked and told us that the bus was going to stop at a village where we took another bus to Kigoma as we'd be arriving to late for them to go the rest of the distance. I groaned and thought 'Oh, no! Not again!' But Leah, the girl beside me, said that there really was a bus that did multiple trips from the village to Kigoma. So, I had some hope... albeit small.
By 8 pm we arrived in a village called Nguruka. This is where the bus stopped and said this was as far as they were going to go. They were staying here for the night and heading back to Tabora in the morning. However, we arrived so late, we missed the last Kigoma bus. I retrieved my backpack from the under compartment and was shocked to see it covered... no, soaked with mud and dirty water. What a mess. Almost everything inside was covered in mud. My clothes, sleeping bag, tent, cookware, book, adaptors, and my Australian documents that I still needed to fill out and send to the tax board. Nice. I was not impressed. The conductor just laughed and said, "sorry, but it's Africa." I said "no, it's poor care of luggage." and just brought my bag to the other 4 people needing to get to Kigoma.
There were 5 of us. The older brother was already arguing with the driver about us not getting to our destination. I suggested, seeing how I've been through this before, that maybe we could talk to the police if there's one in the village. There were no hotels here, so we were stuck otherwise.
Fortunately, there was. The sheriff came, listened to our story, saw the condition of my bag and went to talk to them. 2 hours of negotiations. I was asked 3 times about paying for a taxi that would take us. At first it was 500,000 Tsh (US$312), then 300,000 Tsh (US$187) and finally 100,000 Tsh (US$62) to cover the gas. Apparently, we were only half way to Kigoma. Unbelievable!
Every time, the sheriff would ask me. See, I'm white, so I'm rich and should be able to pay. Tsk tsk, I was very firm and said "no, I paid for my bus ticket, all the way to Kigoma and I will not pay a penny more. It's not my problem that they wasted time today and took 10 hours to drive 200 km. My belongings are damaged, if anything, they should be either giving our money back or paying the taxi for us. They probably made enough with all the overloading they did."
All the while, half the village were watching the drama. The children were all staring at me and many adults were a metre behind them doing the same. I was used to it now, being the only white person and knew that some of these people haven't seen one before, but police said it was best for us to take our luggage and wait in the station while they sort us out. "It wasn't safe," they said. So we did. I called Grace to let her know what was happening and that I'd call her when I knew more. Also called Al to fill him in. He insisted on talking to the police, so I passed the phone over. I guess he gave them an earful and told them to take care of me since I was a foreigner. Wow, I was impressed!
I was given a cloth to try to clean my bag, but it just needed to be emptied and scrubbed up. But, I did what I could with the young brother helping me. My companions were really great. So helpful and supportive. We stuck together.
The sheriff came in and said we had 2 options. We could stay the night, sleeping either on the bus or in the police station, and catch the other bus at 11 am the next day or they could drive us. Well, seeing how my water taxi leaves once a day at noon to Gombe Stream, I needed to be there by 11:30 am so that wasn't going to work. I opted for the ride. The others agreed and off the sheriff went to negotiate again.
Finally, he came back and said he'd drive us. The bus company paid him the money to drive us. Yes! Justice! I liked to think that those guys learned their lesson and will do their job properly, but... might be short of a miracle. We all loaded our luggage in the back of his jeep and while he got petro, we grabbed some dinner, egg on french fries with ketchup. I called Grace and she said that since I'd be getting in so late, to stop by the hotel first to see if they had a room. If not, to just call her and she'd pick me up so I could stay at her house and not to worry about the time.
Everyone insisted I sit in the front seat and they all piled into the back. Leah on the young brothers lap, the older brother on a big man's lap and the policeman, Lugano, on the far right with his rifle. 7 of us in a 5 man jeep, lol. Hey, it was the sheriff's idea. We all got to know one another well. Turned out to be a 6 hour ride since the roads were so bad. We arrived into Kigoma at 4 am. The hotel I wanted to stay at was full, and Lugano called Grace for me. She arrived within 5 minutes and I said goodbye to my new friends after giving them my email to keep in touch.
Triza came by my hotel around 7 pm and we walked hand in hand to her student housing. Sia was there and they started boiling water in their iron pots on top of a stove heated by coals. They lived in a cozy small room together with other students in similar rooms in a square. The middle was open to the sky so we could see all the stars while we cooked out there. Mind you, lightening was off in the distance, so we knew a storm was coming. But the flash of lightening was really nice, it would light up all the neighbourhood, since there were little places with electricity.
I met many of her friends and we had 4 other people join us for dinner. We had the traditional food of ugali (corn flour added to water and cooked until a paste) with sour milk and egg with tomato mixture. The ugali had no taste, but the egg was nice. To eat it, one takes some ugali in their hand, dip it into the egg mixture and place in your mouth, then chase it with the sour milk so it's not so dry. It was... interesting. The sour milk I don't think I could ever get used to. But, what a pleasant evening of leaning how they cook, seeing their normal day to day life and laughing at stories. It was hard to say goodbye to my new friends when they all walked me back to my hotel.
When I got to the bus stand the next morning, my bus wasn't there. It never arrived to Tabora. If I wanted to go to Kigoma I would have to go with another company. And there was only one. A smaller bus that looked like it had seen better days. Had some broken windows and worn seats, and a few to many conductors. I knew what that would mean. More overloading. That was just a little frustrating. See, once the seats are filled on the bus, all the extra people standing is money in the conductor and drivers pockets. That's why they have such motivation to crowd the bus.
I called Al, and he was able to translate and let me know that this other bus was indeed going all the way to Kigoma, but would be slower. It would be a 10 hour drive for the full 400 km.
So, I had to trade my old ticket for a new one, but at least no money was needed. I had a seat with one window that slide from my seat to the seat behind me. Leaving only one of us sheltered from the dust, wind or rain. Great, that would be fun. But at least the 2 other people sitting beside me were young university students who spoke english and were going to Kigoma like me. I felt secure. They were supposed to be on the other bus too, so they were going through the same thing.
The bus left Tabora 1 hour behind schedule. Don't know why, just waiting for more people I suppose. Then it went to get gas and fill the tires with air (why that wasn't done before or while we were sitting around waiting... I don't know). Finally we started our long drive. We got about 1.5 hours from Tabora, and we got stuck in the mud. With the rain from the storm the night before, all the dirt on the roads were thick mud. Luckily, this part of the road was under construction and a tractor pulled us out with some chains... twice (we got stuck 5 mins later).
It was an incredibly long ride. We were stopped once by the police for the overcrowding, but mostly, we drove so slow. The rough roads were really bumpy, with lots of puddles and mud. Poor pedestrians kept getting splashed with mud, since there were no sidewalks. Anytime we passed another bus, ours would stop and the driver and conductors would hop off to socialise with the others, eating and drinking. Didn't bother them at all that they had a bus cramped up with people, squeezed together that needed to go places. The day carried on. We had a third time being stuck in the mud in a Masai village, where a lovely family let me use their toilet (a small fenced in dirt patch), and I was wondering when we'd be arriving in Kigoma. I asked my seating buddies, and the boy asked his brother who sat in front of us. He asked and told us that the bus was going to stop at a village where we took another bus to Kigoma as we'd be arriving to late for them to go the rest of the distance. I groaned and thought 'Oh, no! Not again!' But Leah, the girl beside me, said that there really was a bus that did multiple trips from the village to Kigoma. So, I had some hope... albeit small.
By 8 pm we arrived in a village called Nguruka. This is where the bus stopped and said this was as far as they were going to go. They were staying here for the night and heading back to Tabora in the morning. However, we arrived so late, we missed the last Kigoma bus. I retrieved my backpack from the under compartment and was shocked to see it covered... no, soaked with mud and dirty water. What a mess. Almost everything inside was covered in mud. My clothes, sleeping bag, tent, cookware, book, adaptors, and my Australian documents that I still needed to fill out and send to the tax board. Nice. I was not impressed. The conductor just laughed and said, "sorry, but it's Africa." I said "no, it's poor care of luggage." and just brought my bag to the other 4 people needing to get to Kigoma.
There were 5 of us. The older brother was already arguing with the driver about us not getting to our destination. I suggested, seeing how I've been through this before, that maybe we could talk to the police if there's one in the village. There were no hotels here, so we were stuck otherwise.Fortunately, there was. The sheriff came, listened to our story, saw the condition of my bag and went to talk to them. 2 hours of negotiations. I was asked 3 times about paying for a taxi that would take us. At first it was 500,000 Tsh (US$312), then 300,000 Tsh (US$187) and finally 100,000 Tsh (US$62) to cover the gas. Apparently, we were only half way to Kigoma. Unbelievable!
Every time, the sheriff would ask me. See, I'm white, so I'm rich and should be able to pay. Tsk tsk, I was very firm and said "no, I paid for my bus ticket, all the way to Kigoma and I will not pay a penny more. It's not my problem that they wasted time today and took 10 hours to drive 200 km. My belongings are damaged, if anything, they should be either giving our money back or paying the taxi for us. They probably made enough with all the overloading they did."
All the while, half the village were watching the drama. The children were all staring at me and many adults were a metre behind them doing the same. I was used to it now, being the only white person and knew that some of these people haven't seen one before, but police said it was best for us to take our luggage and wait in the station while they sort us out. "It wasn't safe," they said. So we did. I called Grace to let her know what was happening and that I'd call her when I knew more. Also called Al to fill him in. He insisted on talking to the police, so I passed the phone over. I guess he gave them an earful and told them to take care of me since I was a foreigner. Wow, I was impressed!
I was given a cloth to try to clean my bag, but it just needed to be emptied and scrubbed up. But, I did what I could with the young brother helping me. My companions were really great. So helpful and supportive. We stuck together.
The sheriff came in and said we had 2 options. We could stay the night, sleeping either on the bus or in the police station, and catch the other bus at 11 am the next day or they could drive us. Well, seeing how my water taxi leaves once a day at noon to Gombe Stream, I needed to be there by 11:30 am so that wasn't going to work. I opted for the ride. The others agreed and off the sheriff went to negotiate again.
Finally, he came back and said he'd drive us. The bus company paid him the money to drive us. Yes! Justice! I liked to think that those guys learned their lesson and will do their job properly, but... might be short of a miracle. We all loaded our luggage in the back of his jeep and while he got petro, we grabbed some dinner, egg on french fries with ketchup. I called Grace and she said that since I'd be getting in so late, to stop by the hotel first to see if they had a room. If not, to just call her and she'd pick me up so I could stay at her house and not to worry about the time.
Everyone insisted I sit in the front seat and they all piled into the back. Leah on the young brothers lap, the older brother on a big man's lap and the policeman, Lugano, on the far right with his rifle. 7 of us in a 5 man jeep, lol. Hey, it was the sheriff's idea. We all got to know one another well. Turned out to be a 6 hour ride since the roads were so bad. We arrived into Kigoma at 4 am. The hotel I wanted to stay at was full, and Lugano called Grace for me. She arrived within 5 minutes and I said goodbye to my new friends after giving them my email to keep in touch.
Grace let me crash in her bed and I slept for 4 hours.
When I woke the next morning, my clothes and sleeping bag had been washed. It was out on the bushes drying outside. She had breakfast waiting for me and hot water for a wash. I gave her a big hug and a heart felt thank you. She was such a kind woman. Taking care of me like a daughter. True genuine person. She didn't want any gifts or money in return.
We headed to the water taxi at 11:45, and couldn't find the boat. We both learned that it currently wasn't running on Sundays. I had to laugh, "of course not. That would be too easy."
Luckily, since she worked at Gombe, she knew that the staff boats go out pretty much daily so she called up a coworker. They were heading out at 3 pm and would be more than happy to have me join.
Yay, I think I'll make it to see the chimpanzees after all!
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