Zam Travel

Oh the places you'll go!
That is if you have an abundance of time, no sense of smell, and don't mind being canned like a sardine in a sorta seat.

23 in a minibus

Welcome to Zambian travel my friends.
The norm here is hitch hiking which isn't exactly like it sounds. Hitching usually implies a free ride and I seldom get those. But if you want to catch a ride in the middle of the bush you stand on a road and wave your arm/hand until someone stops. Sometimes it's a bus, other times it's a private vehicle, and occasionally they are big rigs (though I don't flag those). They stop, you tell them a destination, they tell you to get in, you ask for a price, they say don't worry about it (this is a trick, always negotiate before), you agree on a price that is usually half of what they asked for originally, people and bags are shifted to make room where there is none, and you cram yourself into that space hoping the door will shut or if it's a bus you cram in hoping there is actually a seat, and then you are off- that is until the next person waving down a ride. The process continues on as people (inevitably the ones in the back corner) get off and others get on until you finally reach your destination. Rides range from a truck bed to a leather seat with a seat belt, its all in the luck of the day.

An average ride to Mansa, the provincial capital, takes me about an hour and a half on a good day. I go at least once a month to get money from the atm and groceries when we get paid. From Mansa you can get to Lusaka by way of a charter bus that charges 150 kwacha for the 13-15 hour ride (if you don't break down). These bus rides are dreaded and cram you into a seat that even the tiniest of human could not comfortably fit all the while blaring Zampop or more often Bemba worship songs. The worst part is I can sing along now. You would think that means I've ridden the bus too much which is only partly true; it's more a matter of the fact that the same cd gets played on repeat the entire trip. If you are lucky you will get a seat next to a reasonably sized Zambian who prefers to sleep. If fortune is not in your favor you end up with a half of a seat and a screaming baby in your lap while everyone's bags whack you in the head as they squish down the isle you are practically seated in. These buses make scheduled stops to load and unload passengers at major bomas/towns. They tell you they are leaving in 5 minutes, 20 minutes later everyone tries to frantically board the bus as it's pulling out.

On occasion I've had the pleasure of decent conversation with a fluent English speaking Zambian, though I've also experienced the displeasure of fluent drunk Zambians who like to point out that Obama is President and that I'm going to marry them and take them to America. The people you share very close quarters with for short to long rides rang from teachers & government workers, to farmers & children.

And then there is the cargo. I've sat on crates of bottles, I've had live chickens on my feet. I've seen more giant blankets and suitcases crammed into precarious places than I could ever wish for. Zambags (a large heavy duty reusable shopping bag) full of who-knows-what. Mini-buses crammed with bags of mealie meal (maize) and tute (cassava). 18-wheelers stacked high with Zambians balancing on their bags of charcoal to sell at the market. Bicycles heading to their new homes in the village. New farm tools like hoes & the occasional wheel barrow. The items transported here run the gammet!

I once got a hitch from a Zambian who had been to my hometown. When he asked what state I was from and I replied with Colorado he asked, "like Colorado Springs?" I turned my water bottle proudly displaying my Mountain Chalet sticker with Colorado Springs underlined and we both laughed at what a small world it is. Later he even proceeded to show me our new $100 bill! I thought it was monopoly money! When I asked what I owed him his sweet reply was; "how can I charge a sister that is teaching my people and speaking my language?" I didn't argue. We still keep in touch on Facebook.

People overcharge us the minute they see white skin not knowing that we live here and know the prices but we also get some pretty nice charity sometimes when people find out who we are and what we do. Zambians appreciate volunteers because they bring aid to the people but they are always particularly fascinated that we live in the bush with them for two years. This fact alone means that just about every car ride involves the same conversation. Come to think of it I should just record the questions and answers and hit play on my phone when I get into a new vehicle where they don't know me. It would save me a lot of brain power struggling to hear which question is next through the blaring music or wind howling through cracked windows all while deciphering the accent.

I've made it a common practice to wave at every vehicle that passes on the tarmac/road as I walk to school every day never knowing when one them might just be my next ride.
On the upside, flying economy from now on will be a luxury!