The saying ‘This Is Africa’ came to mind today as we saw and experienced the trials of transportation. It all started with a trip to the border to drop off Vera and Maria for their trip to Kigali. On the way there we came across several large tree branches on the road, and when I say LARGE tree branches I am referring to what looked like a third of a tree top. This was naturally (haha) followed by a semi turned sideways and flipped. Luckily the men inside were not badly hurt but they had the unfortunate experience of having to wait there since Saturday (five days prior). Although I have seen several oil trucks burned out in the ditch this was my first live experience of a crashed semi truck. Many people may say “wow, they were waiting since Saturday, how absurd.” In reply to this I would like to note that AMA, or anything similar, does not exist in Tanzania. This is an important point to remember for later in our story.
The drive proceeded smoothly to the border where we drove the girls through the no man’s land zone. On the other side we saw another white girl. This is a rare sight to behold here in western Tanzania and especially Ngara. Even rarer is a white person that I don’t know. This is a result of the expatriate community becoming so small after the withdrawal of the UNHCR that I can count all of the white people in the Ngara area on my two hands. Seeing this white girl at the border prompted a memory that Nigel and Aino, a couple from Australia, were going to pick up Richelle, a new arrival for the Anglican Diocese volunteer staff. She was a little taken aback when I asked if she was Richelle and then arranged for us to take her back across no man’s land to meet Nigel and Aino on the other side when they came. This resulted in a conversation about how we could have taken her back to Murgwanza and saved Nigel and Aino a trip. They are my neighbors after all. Despite the fact that there are so few expats, we have concentrated ourselves in a four block radius, which has proven useful for things like movie night. Everything seemed to be going well as we took Richelle across the border and ran into Nigel and Aino on the other side; that was until Aino told me that they were having car troubles.
It seemed as though their clutch and transmission would not work. After blocking the border for several minutes while we tried to turn the car around via the push method, our mechanic concluded that there was no other way to get the car back to Ngara except to pull it with our car. One land rover pulling another land rover is a relatively humorous sight but even more humorous was our make shift towing devise. It consisted of what was essentially three pieces of oily seatbelt donated by one of the truckers, tied together with double knots and fastened to the cars bumpers with similar double notes. This is Africa, there are no such thing as tow trucks or emergency road side assistance, and if you happen to breakdown you are dependent on the generosity of those around you, the ability to find a truck bigger than your own to pull you, and your own resourcefulness to find the necessary tools and materials.
As I had thought originally, the oily seatbelt did not last for even a full kilometer of going up and down the rolling hills of Ngara and proceeded to break as we exited the border town. We were back to being resourceful. The only likely place to have chain was the man motored ferry that crossed the river so we went down to see what we could find. There is no going to the hardware store to get the right length of chain or the proper towing attachments so we had to hunt around town for something that could break one of the chain links for us to take the tail of one of the chains on the ferry. After about a good hour of trying various methods we were unsuccessful and resorted to using a steel rope. The steel rope was about four times too long so when we were attaching it to the two cars we had to bundle it into a messy knot to keep it from dragging. You can see this in some of the pictures. We were able to go about 17 of the 60 km back to Ngara when the car in tow lost its ability to brake. When towing a car up and down hills, it is imperative that it be able to brake so it doesn’t run up the back of the towing car. Now this car has no transmission, no clutch, no hand brake and no foot brakes. The only thing that really does work is the engine. When Edson, WomenCrafts Mechanic took off the tire to look at the brakes there was no brake pad left and the brake fluid was over heated. At this point there is not much we can do but call the churches mechanic to come out with some brake pads and tow the car back once it has brakes. So we loaded up Aino and Richelle, left Aino’s English students with Nigel and returned to Ngara.
What is ironic is that this same car had recently been into Mwanza, the closest city in Tanzania to Ngara, to see a mechanic. What is even more ironic is that the nine hour drive back from Mwanza to Ngara took this car three days because its starter went and it kept breaking down. To say the least, good mechanics are hard to come by in Tanzania, the roads west of Arusha are largely unpaved, and money for new parts and cars is largely non-existent so many cars are not much different than this car, in that only one component may work but it is unpredictable how long even that part will continue to work. But, this is AfricaJ To say the least the importance of taking time for people and being patient have been well engrained in my mind.
Just a note that you may find interesting Mwanza is the closest Tanzanian city at nine hours away which make the closest city to Ngara four hours away in a different country. That is how isolated I currently am. However, it is a great story for the grandkids, as they say.
