Traffic

Today I would like to fill you all in about African traffic.

It is a necessity, obviously, that I be in traffic every now and then. But I can assure you that of all the dangers of Africa you may read about or hear about (snakes, insects, big mammals, guerillas, malaria, etc.), driving in Africa is by far the most lethal. The ticket books of the Woodfin Police would probably explode with excitement if they could see a Tanzanian intersection at rush hour.

Before we look at the finer aspects of navigating African traffic, let’s take a look at the handy diagrams I’ve made for you. This first one is showing the physical aspects and obstacles you may run into, without the added headache of dealing with other vehicles:

As you can see, it’s a little treacherous. Lets say you are driving to work in the morning. You leave your house at just the right time, you’ve got some Rick Astley or Celine Dion playing on the radio, and you’re looking forward to what promises to be a fulfilling day at the office/market/factory.

You get about as far as where a mailbox would be, if Africans had mailboxes, and all of a sudden your pleasant morning drive has morphed into Need 4 Speed: Most Wanted Offroad Edition, except everyone is in an advanced stage of drunkenness and are driving as though a rabid animal is attacking their face.

There are potholes the size of cows, actual cows, chickens, children, pedestrians, and the opposite of cow-sized potholes, whatever you’d like to call them (the word ‘bumps’ just sounds so tame…), and miscellaneous .

The potholes and bumps are the worst part. Since I ride the bus in the mornings with the students, we have to drive into some of the neighborhoods to pick up kids at their houses. The bus driver floors it over the bumps, making them the most obnoxious part of my day. Most of you know I am not a morning person, so I would like to take the opportunity of the 1 ½ hour bus ride to get some extra sleep, except it’s hard to sleep when you’re occasionally also airborne.

Now let’s take a look at navigating traffic on these roads.

The red box is my bus in the mornings. The dots are pedestrians.

When I first arrived home from the airport in Pepy’s car, I had to check the seat to make sure I hadn’t left fingernail marks. At first glance there is no discernible organization to the way people drive here. It’s literally the world’s biggest game of chicken- the train of thought for most drivers is, if there isn't a space big enough for your vehicle, force your way through until someone backs down. And amazingly, it usually works, or at least, I haven't witnessed an accident yet.

Because there aren’t any traffic police in Tanzania, you can pretty much get away with whatever you want on the road. There aren’t any lines on the roads, not that it matters, because the road is usually so covered in cars and people that the asphault/gravel could be painted pink with orange polka dots and no one would ever know.

However, the price of getting in an accident is very high. Although the police rarely catch people who cause accidents, the public usually take matters into their own hands. I’ve heard horror stories of drivers who cause terrifying fatal accidents fleeing the scene for fear of being beaten to death, or worse, drivers being killed by other drivers over fender benders. Just as a thief in the market will be beaten to death if caught, a careless driver will suffer the same fate.

There are very few traffic signs or signals in Africa. I’ve seen about three traffic lights, and people pay very little attention to them. The only effective means of controlling traffic that I’ve seen was a crossing guard. Mama Kawishe said that crossing guards make the most money of any kind of policeman in Dar Es Salaam, and I can see why; you wouldn’t catch me out there doing their job.

Mom, if you think my driving is bad, please don't come to Africa.

Next week: African socializing

Thanks to Allie Brosh and her blog Hyperbole and a Half for inspiring the drawings! And a shout out to Richard, my liberated friend from the produce department at Ingles, for being super thoughtful and sending me some much-needed reading material!!!

Another shout out to Aimee Buchanan for just being awesome and being my metaphorical Dumbledore. :)

Some more to some special teachers who need some recognition: Mrs. McGuire and Mrs. Szymanski, who have both been very big role models for me and wonderful supporters of my trip so far.

And of course, my loving family, Mom and Dad and Eli and Evie (all the Schenkels, really), Nana and Papaw, and Aunt Helen and Uncle Adam and Peyton and Patterson.

I love you all so much- promise to post again soon!!!

Kwa Heri,

Emily