Monday, March 28, 2005
Monday March 28
It is the midterm break at the school. Kim Nucifera (a PCV from Kigongo, north of Bukoba) and I took a bus to visit Maryknoll Sister Peg Donovan at the site she created in Kalebezo, “near” Sengerema. I’ve visited Sengerema by bicycle – a four hour ride plus a half hour ferry ride – we didn’t really think it would be much of a trip.
So we went to the ferry dock at 11:00 to catch a bus. They sold us tickets for the bus that would be there at 1:30 sure. We debated just taking the ferry without the bus, doubted the authority of the guys who sold us our tickets, fretted and equivocated. The dock is in a region where hawkers and beggars constantly harass and annoy. But we stuck it out, and had tea and mandazi (cake) from a peddler. Finally we decided to return our tickets, just as the bus arrived at 3:30pm. The bus was a huge old box with rust holes in the side, a little tread left on one or two tires, and glass in most of the windows. Along with the bus and a hoard of people, we piled onto the ferry. On the other side, the bus wheezed up the hill and stopped to wait for us. There is no queuing or waiting in line in Tanzania. People were crowding on – it looked like an oversized version of How Many People Can You Stuff In A Volkswagen. We were near the last to board. Our tickets had seat numbers on them and amazingly, the seats were waiting for us. All around and in the aisle people were piled like sardines, standing, sitting and sliding on the boxes and bags that covered the floor. Chickens gawked and squawked.
It had been raining nearly daily, it is the Short Rainy Season. The road, if you can call it that, was washed out, pitted and rutted. The bus slowly proceeded, rattling and lurching from hole to hole, at times stopping so the driver could figure out how to cross the next hurdle. Occasionally we would stop at a settlement of a few huts and throw a few boxes and bags out of a bus window while boys lowered bigger supplies from the top of the bus. It took three hours just to reach Sengerema.
In Sengerema I bought some oranges from a woman passing the bus while people and boxes were rearranged. We started off again, but only to a workshop, where everybody got off while a crew dragged an arc welding machine into the bus to repair the exhaust manifold. That took 45 minutes. We learned that the old bus frequently stops there for patches and repairs.
After Sengerema the road got worse, and by now it was getting dark. There was a full moon, and we could still see much of the starkly beautiful scenery as we rattled and groaned on by. At the villages we passed people were all lined up along the road to watch the bus pass by. We asked about how far it was to Kalebezo a few times, but it felt like children asking “Are we almost there yet.” The answer was always that it was one km farther. Some km.
About 3km from the REAL Kalebezo the bus trembled to a stop and the driver sat there for awhile, then turned off the engine. People were getting off the bus. We looked. There, where the road should have been, there was a small lake with three quite large trucks stuck in the middle of it, tilted at very unhealthy angles, half under water. They were not moving. Rice paddies on each side of the road made it clear that skirting the lake was not an option. We took pictures, then joined the people walking along the breastwork of a paddy to cross to the other side, wondering what we would do next.
Just at that time, a man greeted us half in English, half in Kiswahili. He had a radio telephone, and had been sent by Sr. Peg to meet us. He had a 4-wheel drive truck on the other side of the lake, and soon we were on our way for the short distance to the warm, welcome hospitality of Sr. Peg and her VEMA staff.
It had been a grueling ride, much longer than either of us had anticipated. But it was worth it. Sr. Peg is gregarious, and even though she was preparing to leave Tanzania for four months, she related many stories of how she had started VEMA, what struggles and surprises she had encountered, and what the VEMA accomplishments have been.
For two days, we enjoyed relaxing there. It rained both days, so it was a good opportunity to read and unwind. We left with Sr. Peg in an SV full of people and boxes, backpacks and suitcases. Peg drove, but her African driver was along also. He would bring the SUV back to VEMA, and on this trip he was delegated to first walk through the lake (and several other large puddles) to be sure the SUV could navigate the waters without submerging. We made it – Peg claiming that her personal angel had lifed the SUV through the lake. People were dropped off along the way – we were dropped off back in Mwanza, as Sr. Peg was off on her furlough.
Quite a woman. Quite a trip.
It is the midterm break at the school. Kim Nucifera (a PCV from Kigongo, north of Bukoba) and I took a bus to visit Maryknoll Sister Peg Donovan at the site she created in Kalebezo, “near” Sengerema. I’ve visited Sengerema by bicycle – a four hour ride plus a half hour ferry ride – we didn’t really think it would be much of a trip.
So we went to the ferry dock at 11:00 to catch a bus. They sold us tickets for the bus that would be there at 1:30 sure. We debated just taking the ferry without the bus, doubted the authority of the guys who sold us our tickets, fretted and equivocated. The dock is in a region where hawkers and beggars constantly harass and annoy. But we stuck it out, and had tea and mandazi (cake) from a peddler. Finally we decided to return our tickets, just as the bus arrived at 3:30pm. The bus was a huge old box with rust holes in the side, a little tread left on one or two tires, and glass in most of the windows. Along with the bus and a hoard of people, we piled onto the ferry. On the other side, the bus wheezed up the hill and stopped to wait for us. There is no queuing or waiting in line in Tanzania. People were crowding on – it looked like an oversized version of How Many People Can You Stuff In A Volkswagen. We were near the last to board. Our tickets had seat numbers on them and amazingly, the seats were waiting for us. All around and in the aisle people were piled like sardines, standing, sitting and sliding on the boxes and bags that covered the floor. Chickens gawked and squawked.
It had been raining nearly daily, it is the Short Rainy Season. The road, if you can call it that, was washed out, pitted and rutted. The bus slowly proceeded, rattling and lurching from hole to hole, at times stopping so the driver could figure out how to cross the next hurdle. Occasionally we would stop at a settlement of a few huts and throw a few boxes and bags out of a bus window while boys lowered bigger supplies from the top of the bus. It took three hours just to reach Sengerema.
In Sengerema I bought some oranges from a woman passing the bus while people and boxes were rearranged. We started off again, but only to a workshop, where everybody got off while a crew dragged an arc welding machine into the bus to repair the exhaust manifold. That took 45 minutes. We learned that the old bus frequently stops there for patches and repairs.
After Sengerema the road got worse, and by now it was getting dark. There was a full moon, and we could still see much of the starkly beautiful scenery as we rattled and groaned on by. At the villages we passed people were all lined up along the road to watch the bus pass by. We asked about how far it was to Kalebezo a few times, but it felt like children asking “Are we almost there yet.” The answer was always that it was one km farther. Some km.
About 3km from the REAL Kalebezo the bus trembled to a stop and the driver sat there for awhile, then turned off the engine. People were getting off the bus. We looked. There, where the road should have been, there was a small lake with three quite large trucks stuck in the middle of it, tilted at very unhealthy angles, half under water. They were not moving. Rice paddies on each side of the road made it clear that skirting the lake was not an option. We took pictures, then joined the people walking along the breastwork of a paddy to cross to the other side, wondering what we would do next.
Just at that time, a man greeted us half in English, half in Kiswahili. He had a radio telephone, and had been sent by Sr. Peg to meet us. He had a 4-wheel drive truck on the other side of the lake, and soon we were on our way for the short distance to the warm, welcome hospitality of Sr. Peg and her VEMA staff.
It had been a grueling ride, much longer than either of us had anticipated. But it was worth it. Sr. Peg is gregarious, and even though she was preparing to leave Tanzania for four months, she related many stories of how she had started VEMA, what struggles and surprises she had encountered, and what the VEMA accomplishments have been.
For two days, we enjoyed relaxing there. It rained both days, so it was a good opportunity to read and unwind. We left with Sr. Peg in an SV full of people and boxes, backpacks and suitcases. Peg drove, but her African driver was along also. He would bring the SUV back to VEMA, and on this trip he was delegated to first walk through the lake (and several other large puddles) to be sure the SUV could navigate the waters without submerging. We made it – Peg claiming that her personal angel had lifed the SUV through the lake. People were dropped off along the way – we were dropped off back in Mwanza, as Sr. Peg was off on her furlough.
Quite a woman. Quite a trip.
