Homeward bound

On Friday afternoon Juanito (as our Team Logistics Manager) was taken to the bus station in Songea in order to buy our return tickets for Saturday. This being done, we also had a taxi arranged to collect us from the hotel with our bags, with the assistance of the principal for which we were very grateful. We would be travelling Songea to Njombe (about 4 hours) where we would stop and meet the principal from Tandala and the new British Council trainer who had arrived just 48 hours before and whom we wished to welcome. We would then carry on with a different bus Njombe to Iringa (about another 4 hours), ideally arriving by the early evening and certainly in time for dinner.

That was the plan.

The taxi duly arrived on time and with our refugee – we have kidnapped Angela, the British Council trainer, to come with us for the weekend so she has a change of scenery – and so on we went to the bus station. Thankfully, with the state of the car in mind, we arrived in one piece. After unloading the bags and people, we waited near the SuperFeo bus office while Juanito investigated which bus would be the 08.25am for Njombe, the tickets for which he had purchased the day before. He returned, a little cross, to say there is no 08.25 bus to Njombe, but if we pay double we can ride the 09.00 bus to Iringa. Naturally, being volunteers and conscious of our budget (and principles) we refused to pay, got a refund (phew!) and went to look for another bus going to Njombe. Fortunately it didn’t take long for Juanito to work his magic and he found one which was ‘leaving imminently’ (he always manages this!). Interestingly enough, on the ticket we got from them, the reporting time was 11.30am for a 12 noon departure. We set off at 08.26am. Timetable? What the heck. At least we were on our way.

I don’t know if it was because we were seated near the very back of the bus, or if really the driver did have a death wish, but it was really unnerving when, on more than one occasion, we careered round bends at what felt like 120kmph. It did feel like the bus was going to go over on its side. We grappled for seat belts, to find remnants of clips only and no strap to pull across and close with the clip. Juanito tried to close a window to reduce the subsequent gale force wind coming in, and it broke – literally, he was left with a pane of glass in his hand. We didn’t mention it to Angela at the time – for whom this was a first bus ride in Tanzania – for fear of worrying her even more, but we had not experienced a bus journey like it! We made it to Njombe in 3 hours. 

The principal and BC trainer were waiting for us at the bus station so we had less hassle than usual from the taxi drivers, and after retrieving our bags considered the possibility of buying our onward ticket before departing for lunch. After some enquiry which resulted in more questions than before, we decided to go for lunch and then see what was available after we had eaten. Mr K (the principal) was willing to drive us an hour down the road to Makambako if there were no more buses from Njombe, as this too is another junction, meaning greater likelihood of buses going to Iringa.

Some time and a good deal of conversation later (remember the food is cooked very fresh, although the time taken to do so often begs the question of whether the potatoes have even finished growing yet, let alone been peeled, cut and cooked into a chipsi mayai – chip omelette) we climbed back into the car to see about that final 4-hour journey to Iringa. First stop Njombe, where the driver got out to ask someone, but there didn’t appear to be any more buses. Just as we started to drive off to Makambako a man came running up, shouting and waving his arms to announce there was indeed a bus going to Iringa right now – and up alongside us it pulled. Did I say bus? That might be a little optimistic. I think our host was relieved to not have to extend his journey, as they had a one-and-a-half-hour journey back from Njombe to Tandala, and we didn’t wish to impose, so we leapt out of their car, said our goodbyes, and clambered aboard our 'bus'. This was just after 2pm. Fortunately as we were the first passengers, we could change seats from the really-broken to the just-in-a-bad-way, however unfortunately it also meant we crawled along at a snail’s pace with (I would say ‘conductor’ but that gives too grand an impression) – the man – hanging out of the side sliding door (this is a dala dala: so it’s a bit like a large Renault Espace, but with 12 seats) yelling ‘Iringa, Iringa, Iringa’, trying to collect passengers to fill the vehicle. The one occasion we sped up was when we went from standing to top speed (about 20mph) when the driver, ‘the man’ and a couple of other men leapt on board as if running from someone and we sped off down the road.... Between Njombe and Iringa we stopped many times: at the roadside, in bus stations of the towns along the way, with the ‘bus’ regularly emptying and refilling, even ‘the man’ changed a few times (as did the driver), eventually arriving in Iringa town by 8.45pm.

Angela will be flying back to Songea.