By tuktuk, matatu, dhow, and motorcycle...

September 24, 2012

By tuktuk, matatu, dhow, and motorcycle, I made my way to Suba today.

Definitions:

Tuktuk:  a 3-wheeled golfcart that lets in a nice breeze as you zip around town, trying to avoid bikes and pedestrians

Matatu: a van usually carrying about 20 cramped people

Dhow: a wood boat holding a dozen people, powered by wind or by motor

Motorcycle: you should know this one; also the main form of transportation in Suba

My journey started out alright. I boarded a tuktuk with all my luggage and headed to the bus stand where I said I wanted to go to Luanda. All seemed to be going well until an hour into the ride they say, “here’s Luanda!”. Um… no. Luanda is supposed to be a 3 hour ride away and is supposed to be on Lake Victoria. Yes, I’m sure because I’m now supposed to get on a ferry. That’s Lwanda? Seriously? Lwanda, not Luanda. Lovely. So how do I get to Lwanda? Go back to where I started, eh? Alright, I guess I won’t be catching the 3pm ferry anymore. The 6 o’clock ferry it is! Sigh.

I had about 7 minutes of being frustrated by wasted time and bus fare, the fact that I’d be getting in around dark, the idea of cramming myself and my bags into another matatu (my legs are just  starting to regain feeling in them), etc. But after about 7 minutes, I took a deep breath and remembered that this is just part of travelling, part of living in Africa, part of life.  I remind myself that a bit more patience could probably do me some good. And this really ain’t so bad.

And as I’m trying to remind myself to take a chill pill, I look around and see a young man walking next to me. He’s probably my age but looks like he can’t weigh more than 90 pounds. His bright pink pants have seen better days, his feet are encased in something that at one point probably resembled shoes, and his shirt has become a mottled brown of dirt and sweat. He’s got a suitcase in each hand and stoops forward, balancing a giant sack of grain on his back. My extra few hours sitting in a matatu (reading a good book no less!) seems leisurely. The two big bags crushing my legs seem like due punishment for having so much stuff.

An hour or so later, I’m escorted off my matatu and transferred to my fourth matatu of the day. I climb in next to a friendly older gentleman. When he eventually gets off, I notice he’s wearing rubber knee pads made out of car tires and it takes me a second to realize that he can’t walk – he skoots around on his hands and knees. Polio? Cerebral palsy? I’m not sure. I’m reminded though of how common it is to see people here with obvious disabilities somehow surviving with makeshift adaptations. Wheelchairs don’t maneuver very well in Africa so people find other ways – some create modified wheelchair-tricycles, some swing on crutches, and some skoot on hands and knees. As this friendly older gentleman skoots off the road, I take a moment to try to take it all in – the sadness of suffering, the injustice of unequal access to services, the awe of human resiliency. And I’m only halfway through my transport methods!

I eventually find my way to Lwanda and sure enough I’ve missed the 3pm ferry. However, I’m convinced to board a small wooden dhow for our one hour ride on Lake Victoria to Mbita. I attempt to tie my lifevest in such a way that it won’t just fall off the minute I’m thrown into the water and laugh as the captain tries to cover us all with giant plastic sheets to protect us from the splashing waves. This is glorious – the cool wind whipping my hair into a giant tangle, the water gently spraying my face, the expansive lake stretching out in front of us, feeling like I’m in Tanzania, Kenya, Uganda, Rwanda, and DRC all at the same time by sailing out into this lake. I’m just going to soak this in.

Because my transportation device is the dreaded pikipiki (motorcycle)… Somehow this guy manages to get me and my two large bags onto the back of his motorcycle – an impressive feat in my opinion. Fortunately, this leg of the journey only lasts a couple kilometers and then I arrive at ICIPE – the insect research center!

Phew. Made it. Just 7 hours and 4 modes of transportation later. I better not want to leave anytime soon.