dalla dalla

We'd seen them everywhere. Crammed commuter caravans filled beyond capacity carrying their cargoes back and forth via the tarmac leading to and from Moshi. They are almost comical to look upon as fifteen or more passengers occupy a space designed for ten at the most. Not a single fillable space of air is left unoccupied. Include on this city bus additional riders hanging out of the open door side. This scene repeats itself endlessly. Each dalla dalla has its own title not like the ones we see at home which name the route, but a title such as Jesus Saves, Jesus Hates Corruption, or Mafia Tours. To top it all off you can ride in this sarcophagus of suffocation and sweat for 300Tsh (Tanzanian Shillings) or approximately a quarter in Canadian funds.
You can go almost anywhere for almost nothing; however, be careful. The dalla dalla or bus system here, for all intents and purposes, is a random collection of these over-stuffed mini-vans which do not have any sort of identification such as numbers, colours, or route labels. You can be assured of getting to Moshi, but if you're not paying attention you may be transported beyond your intended destination. Exacerbating this chaotic picture is the fact that there are few distinguishing landmarks and even fewer street signs which indicate your exact location. You must keep vigilant to make sure you don't end up lost and quickly. You do become accustomed to local features, so there is some measure of comfort that you are either short or well beyond where you wanted to go. Apparently, there is a colour code to them too, but this has yet to be proven concretely.
My friend had been anxious to ride the dalla dalla into town. Her husband was not as eager to share this particular experience with her, and he did not want her to attempt this feat solely by herself. He insisted that I accompany her on this excursion. I have planned to be here longer anyway, so I will need to acclimate myself to this routine Tanzanian endeavour.
The pleasure of engaging in organized chaos. It's simple enough really as you walk out to the main road where there is a turn out. People wait, and the dalla dalla arrives. I don't believe there is even a schedule to co-ordinate the system. One just shows up and the dalla dalla will arrive in a short space of time. Presumably.
We had waited for just a few minutes. The humidity and heat had already made their impact. Perspiration dripped down my neck and sideburns. My hair moistened. The moment had arrived. Our ride was already filled to capacity. The passengers hanging out of the door stepped off, and two got out. We were exhorted to jump in, but where? My friend entered first and shimmied herself into a seated position on top of one woman. I can-openered myself in front of her in perpendicular fashion; my back parallel with the roof. I had a spectacular view of the floor. My legs were twisted like pretzels, while my right arm was extended behind me at a 180 degree angle so I could hold on to the handle bar above the window. This meant that my already awkward position endangered those in my immediate vicinity should we stop suddenly or come upon the ubiquitous speed bumps.
I began to cramp almost immediately. It was only a matter of time before I unintentionally assaulted one of my fellow passengers. I laughed to myself at how comical it must have appeared to somebody looking in on it. I had no way to ascertain our location as I only had a view of my feet. I adjusted my left hand to the headrest of the drivers' seat in front of me. The steering wheel is on the right side of the carriage in Tanzanian vehicles. My discomfort level rose. My only real concern was the security of my wallet. With my friend literally watching my back my concerns were allayed. At that moment we must have reached the first roundabout. Almost immediately my friend spoke. We hopped out awkwardly. I'm not even sure how we caught the driver's attention to stop. The passengers and doormen smiled while some laughed mildly at the mizungus who were now leaving their group. Relief.
We found our 300Tsh, paid one of the doormen, shook out our legs, and began our walk to meet the others for breakfast at the Coffee Lounge. It had been a brief encounter, but we had conquered the dalla dalla. I had suddenly developed a new appreciation for the organization and true sense of order which comes with public transportation in North America. It would have been difficult to envision anything quite like it at home.