Two Girls on a Bus
Our wake-up call came at 4:45 the next morning, and we checked out (which invilved calling the porter, explaining that we were in a big hurry, waiting almost 15 minutes, dragging our bags down to the hotel lobby ourselves, and then being met by the porter, who protested that he was just on his way up that moment) and asked the hotel to call us a cab. We had been warned (a warning which we had obviously chosen to disregard the day before) not to catch cabs on the street, and to only use vehicles that were 'official' taxis and which would be approved of and provided by our hotel.
The taxi which pulled up (we could hear it before we could see it) was in no form an official taxi. It creaked (the driver told us that it was the fan belt, which just had to warm up, but it never did stop creaking, so who knows). There were seat belts. It was filthy and the car was falling apart and the front seat did not stand upright and it did not say 'taxi' on it and it was not blue and it was in all ways dodgy. A couple of girls travelling alone have to be careful, at 5:00 in the morning...so we objected, and were told by the hotel staff that it was the night taxi. They refused to call another taxi, despite our arguments, and we told the drive that we would not pay the full fare for a nasty taxi. We did not like the situation, but we rode to the bus station in the dodgy taxi. The drive had obviously not understood that he would recieve 5000 Kwachas less, and he yelled and sputtered at us until we disappeared into the crowd.
At 5:10 am the bus station (there was not bustation really, it was just an enclosed batch of buses and huts) was like another world. There were bars and a casino, and over 200 people waiting for buses, or perhaps living or squatting there. People kept trying to push (actually PUSH) us onto THEIR buses to Lusaka. Never mind that we had tickets for the Luxury line (which cost us 60 000 Kwachas, or $20USD each). We had been promised a double-decker bus, where the posh seats were on the first level, but were instead guided onto a shabby Greyhound-type bus. Although the bus was not due to leave until 6:00am, and it was only 5:15, the bus was almost full. We managed to get seats together, and just as we were sitting down, a group of 7 Chinese tourists marched on the bus and demanded that they get seats together.
In some ways I understand why they were frustrated. The deal with these buses is that if one buys one's ticket in advance, one is guaranteed good seating, with 'stand-by' passengers not being allowed on the bus until 5 minutes before it departed. The stand-by people - most of the bus - had just taken seats when they arrived, leaving very few seats on the bus, and almost none together. So, I understood the frustration, however it was so early in the morning, and we have already learned that in Africa yelling and complaining does little good. The group sat in the few seats which were left (I think 2 of them actually had to take another bus), and at 5:45 - 15 minutes early - the bus swung out of the little station.
If you have never been to Africa it is hard to understand the smell of the bus. From what I have understood, in many African cultures deodorant is scorned because it masks one's 'manly' scent. Or perhaps it is just unavailable. Being here, I have come to realize that in Canada we are a very odor-sensitive culture, but oh! The smell! It is thick and sweet and almost fuzzy and it is like being hit by a wall of odor. It permeates clothes and hair (and stuffed bunnies - poor bunny needs an airing) and we could not believe we would be surounded by this scent for 6.5 hours!
Highlights of the bus ride included:
-The 7 am stop at the fried-food restaurant, where the smell of cheap oil and fried potatoes masked our malodorous companions
-7:50 am, when we had to ask the driver to turn the blaring boy-band music down.
-The 9 am stop. The little boy in the back of the bus - one of the group of Chinese tourists - had perhaps eaten his fried potatoes too quickly? The little boy vomited all over himself, the seats, the floor, his mother, and a large wooden valise (not belonging to him or his group). The slution to that messy problem was a mop and a bucket, which were handed to the mother. We all watched as she scrubbed and mopped the mess. (and perhaps it was cruel just to watch, but there was no WAY sis or I were going to approach vomit on this nasty bus)
-9:45 am, when we had to ask the driver to turn the blaring gospel music down
-10:00 am, when the air conditioning was turned off, and when within seconds the odor of the people and the vomit settled heavily upon us.
-11:30, when we arrived! Hurrah, Livingstone!
The taxi which pulled up (we could hear it before we could see it) was in no form an official taxi. It creaked (the driver told us that it was the fan belt, which just had to warm up, but it never did stop creaking, so who knows). There were seat belts. It was filthy and the car was falling apart and the front seat did not stand upright and it did not say 'taxi' on it and it was not blue and it was in all ways dodgy. A couple of girls travelling alone have to be careful, at 5:00 in the morning...so we objected, and were told by the hotel staff that it was the night taxi. They refused to call another taxi, despite our arguments, and we told the drive that we would not pay the full fare for a nasty taxi. We did not like the situation, but we rode to the bus station in the dodgy taxi. The drive had obviously not understood that he would recieve 5000 Kwachas less, and he yelled and sputtered at us until we disappeared into the crowd.
At 5:10 am the bus station (there was not bustation really, it was just an enclosed batch of buses and huts) was like another world. There were bars and a casino, and over 200 people waiting for buses, or perhaps living or squatting there. People kept trying to push (actually PUSH) us onto THEIR buses to Lusaka. Never mind that we had tickets for the Luxury line (which cost us 60 000 Kwachas, or $20USD each). We had been promised a double-decker bus, where the posh seats were on the first level, but were instead guided onto a shabby Greyhound-type bus. Although the bus was not due to leave until 6:00am, and it was only 5:15, the bus was almost full. We managed to get seats together, and just as we were sitting down, a group of 7 Chinese tourists marched on the bus and demanded that they get seats together.
In some ways I understand why they were frustrated. The deal with these buses is that if one buys one's ticket in advance, one is guaranteed good seating, with 'stand-by' passengers not being allowed on the bus until 5 minutes before it departed. The stand-by people - most of the bus - had just taken seats when they arrived, leaving very few seats on the bus, and almost none together. So, I understood the frustration, however it was so early in the morning, and we have already learned that in Africa yelling and complaining does little good. The group sat in the few seats which were left (I think 2 of them actually had to take another bus), and at 5:45 - 15 minutes early - the bus swung out of the little station.
If you have never been to Africa it is hard to understand the smell of the bus. From what I have understood, in many African cultures deodorant is scorned because it masks one's 'manly' scent. Or perhaps it is just unavailable. Being here, I have come to realize that in Canada we are a very odor-sensitive culture, but oh! The smell! It is thick and sweet and almost fuzzy and it is like being hit by a wall of odor. It permeates clothes and hair (and stuffed bunnies - poor bunny needs an airing) and we could not believe we would be surounded by this scent for 6.5 hours!
Highlights of the bus ride included:
-The 7 am stop at the fried-food restaurant, where the smell of cheap oil and fried potatoes masked our malodorous companions
-7:50 am, when we had to ask the driver to turn the blaring boy-band music down.
-The 9 am stop. The little boy in the back of the bus - one of the group of Chinese tourists - had perhaps eaten his fried potatoes too quickly? The little boy vomited all over himself, the seats, the floor, his mother, and a large wooden valise (not belonging to him or his group). The slution to that messy problem was a mop and a bucket, which were handed to the mother. We all watched as she scrubbed and mopped the mess. (and perhaps it was cruel just to watch, but there was no WAY sis or I were going to approach vomit on this nasty bus)
-9:45 am, when we had to ask the driver to turn the blaring gospel music down
-10:00 am, when the air conditioning was turned off, and when within seconds the odor of the people and the vomit settled heavily upon us.
-11:30, when we arrived! Hurrah, Livingstone!
posted by Melamondiale @ 11:02 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home