Adventures in Simbaland

Well, it’s official. We went on our first safari (not like the Swahili word for travel, but the actual drive around a national park to see wild animals). Naturally, ridiculousness ensued. A lot of what I’m about to type could again be construed as me complaining, but rest assured that I am once again laughing at the awesome ridiculousness and enjoying the funky adventure.
I was well-prepared for the craziness by a couple of interesting experiences the two days before we left for the safari. Some might call it “Practicing the waiting game”. On Thursday I finally had my meeting with the Seminary about what I might be able to teach there for the rest of the term. I waited in the faculty room, and the teacher I’d be helping came pretty quickly and told me I’d start a week from Monday and I’d teach “Form 3” (the third level, but kind of more similar to our 9th grade). However, she added at the end that the Math Subject Master wanted to talk to me about helping with one more class, but that he was busy so he’d come to me. I was instructed to wait somewhere in the school, and wait I did. Over 5 hours later the school day was done, and I was still in the staff room going over the material I’d probably cover and getting lesson ideas. All of the teachers were looking at me like I was crazy for still being there, and finally, the last one told me it was time to leave…the Subject Master never came…oh well. I got good planning time, and I’ll surely run into him eventually.
On Thursday night I was told by one of the monks at the guesthouse that I would be going into Songea on Friday. We were pretty pumped, as Songea is a nearby larger city that provides a nice change of pace (and hopefully bicycles soon). However, Friday morning we learned that the WE was really ME. Apparently my passport photos for immigration forms were not sent on glossy enough paper, so I had to go into town to get photos taken and forms taken care of. I rode into town with monks going in for all sorts of other reasons and was told to wait in front of the shop that Hanga owns. Sure enough, eventually a man came up to me to take my picture (he had a lady from a shop hold up a blue sheet behind me, made sure my shirt looked nice, snapped some shots, and disappeared. It felt like a more mobile version of school picture day! Quite a while later, he showed up again with the photos I had needed. I then saw one of the monks, who told me the monk that was to work with me on the immigration forms should be arriving shortly, so I continued to wait…Over 5 hours later (is there a theme here?), he showed up. It turns out Songea makes for great people watching though, so I couldn’t complain. Plus, I got to eat lunch with a bunch of sweet electrical engineers from Dar. It was, indeed, a nice change of pace.
This brings us to Friday night, when we were alerted that our presence was requested as “chaperones” (I put this in quotes because it later came clear that we were expected to do no helping and were simply expected to enjoy ourselves) on the secondary school’s trip to Ruaha National Park. When and where would the bus meet? Great question. The answer we received was “4 or 5 in the morning…at the meeting spot”. Yep. You can’t make this stuff up. The serious answer was “the meeting spot”, and that’s all we got. You’d think eventually I’d get used to this unclear communication style, but I kind of hope I don’t, because it’s pretty hilarious. Well, we got word around 3:30am that the bus would be leaving promptly at 4, so we slept for a few more minutes, packed a few things, and somehow made it over to the school in our sleep.
Now we were told this trip would take somewhere between 6 and 8 hours. We left at 4am. We got there after 4pm. Explanation? Not really sure. We made a very long stop in Iringa (nearest town to Ruaha) for food. You see, a bus full of kids here can’t just stop at McDonald’s, order burgers, and be on its way. We had to stop at a market and by mountains of rice and other cooking materials so the kids could later make the dinner for everyone.
How was this bus ride you ask? Another great question! It was quite the funky adventure. To picture the bus, simply picture some sort of whacky Partridge Family bus. Now you have the outside. I got to share one and a half seats with the monk that led the trip, and let’s just say I didn’t necessarily get my ¾ seat…Something about the piece of metal sticking in my back reminded me of riding from St. John’s to Eau Claire on the plastic cupholder in the middle of the back seat of a 2 door Saturn. It was then that I realized that this bus was at least better than that trip. Also, amidst all the Swahili hip hop on the radio “All the Above” came on, and it was amazing how much it lifted my spirits! Here’s to you, Maino.
Arriving shortly before the sun went down (and dealing with the park officials seeing how much extra money they could charge because we had white people in the group), it became clear that we would be doing no safariing that night. The students cooked the food, and we ate it. I will say no more about the food than that they worked very hard to make said food.
The night was pretty uneventful…oh yeah, except there was an elephant hanging out about 5 yards from the window of the room Mike and I shared around 12:30! No big deal. In the morning I thought maybe I had dreamt it, but the elephant was kind enough to leave some sizable proof.
We got started around 9 with the driving safari, and we saw a couple of lions right away! This was of course what everyone wanted to see, so it was super exciting, but I think it also kind of stole the suspense. (Important note: “samba” is Swahili for “lion”, and yes, there does exist an African shoe company that makes knockoff Timberlands and calls them “Simbalands”). Anyway, the safari was pretty phenomenal, especially since I got put in the front next to the driver. Oh yeah, and you know those sweet beige Land Rovers you think of when you think of safaris?...yeah, we SAW those. We, however, rode through the wild in style- Partridge Family style.
We saw the lions, so many cool birds, giraffes, zebras, elephants, baboons, tons of kudu and impalas, mongooses (MONGOOSEN!), and a crocodile. Also, there was a downed tree in the way of our route, so all the boys got out and pushed it aside (it was very reminiscent of BLP pushing Morgan’s car). Again, it was all pretty great.
Before heading for Hanga the students made lunch. Bless their hearts, they tried and that’s a ton of food to make, but let’s just say it was a struggle. By this time I was exhausted and ready to head back.
On the way back we had two tire issues (they changed a tire, but it definitely didn’t look flat, so I refer to it as a “tire issue”). The second issue was apparently quite a bit more serious, and it was getting dark (we were only in Iringa because we had stopped at some historical museum). Everyone hung out in the street for quite a while, and I did my best to channel any physics knowledge I had left in order to seize a teachable moment in explaining the mechanical advantage of using a longer radius to loosen very tight bolts.
After some quality mechanic work from the driving team, we were on the road again in the dark, and I was, how you say, “Plum tuckered out”. We didn’t get back to Hanga until around 3am…Did I sleep on the way? Well you are just full of great questions today! I’m pretty confident that a total of 5 minutes of sleep would be an overestimate. This was not due to the less than ideal seat position, and it wasn’t even due to the somewhat questionable cooking. You see, I failed to mention two key aspects of the bus/bus driver.
Important note #1: The bus driver uses his horn it’s his job (it kind of is, but he took it to a whole new level). He put any horn-users I know to shame. He used it when rounding dark curves, when passing people, when seeing people wave, when wanting bicycles to get off the road, when wanting the attention of a personal selling what looked like charcoal on the side of the road (yeah, he stopped and bought 2 bags), and when he was angry with someone. Again, some of these honks were necessary, and I very much appreciated his ability to vary the length and rhythm of said honks. The man was truly an artist.
Important note #2: The brakes were nuts. I had a long time to decide what I think they sounded like, and I think I have it pegged. First imagine the sound of a teapot steaming loudly. Now, imagine the sound of an adolescent girl in a second rate horror film screaming because she just noticed the bad guy was in the room. If you imagine something right in between those two sounds, you have our brakes.
All in all, a funky adventure was had, lions and zebras were seen (still hoping to get a picture of me wearing Zubaz next to zebras), and we made it back safe and sound. And hey, guess what! I just about have a set schedule through December (starting next Monday)! That’s right, for the first time I have been told something to the effect of “we need you to teach starting this day”. Hip hip hooray!