Did I ever tell you?
. . . I got on the wrong daladala, local tiny bus, at the Tangeru Market?
Well one time when I hadn't been here to long I went to Tangeru for food. I hired a young bag boy to carry my produce for me, their job is much like the bag boys of old in America. Only they walk around the market with bags that they sell for 100 tsh ($.10) and then they offer to carry the heavy bags for a fee. I always over pay and buy them a juicy for 50 tsh (not even $.05), I over pay mainly because they earned it with me, 1,000 tsh ($. 60). I make them cary a BIG bag, show me where the good food is, have them help translate numbers and ask advice on what tastes good. I enjoy my interaction with them.
This time on our way out to where ALL the busses wait for poor people with big bags it was really crowded. I told the boy that I was going to Usa River and I boarded the bus amid the giant throng of Tanzanians. I squeezed on the bus, last seat, last row with all my goods and all my neighbors goods. And I waited, I waited for the bus to fill up so we could leave. As we were pulling out onto the main road I noticed we were turning left, not right. "Hapa!", "Here!". "Meme nataka Usa River, hapana Arusha!", "I want Usa River, not Arusha!". I struggled to get my timid Swahili voice heard and soon the daladala had pulled over to deposit me on the side at the stop. But to get out the nice lady with the really big bag of clothes had to get out, the lady next to her and all the other people between me and the door.
So there I was standing on the side of the road waiting for the right daladala with all my produce.
And that is the story of how I got on the wrong daladala.
watoto daladala, mama daladala and baba daladala.
(the mama is the normal size)
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Marilee