Dalla dalla, dalla lalla, dalai lama

Ahhh… travels through Africa. Nothing has ever made me appreciate the concept of having my own car like this before. After two weeks in Tanzania I can say that I’m not a big fan of the dalla dalla. One of my housemates was adorably confused early on and kept calling it a “dalla lalla”, which of course quickly morphed into dalai lama. Convenient yes, comfortable in any remote sense - very rarely.

I’ve been slacking on my entries because I’ve been so much busier in Tanzania than I have been in my previous locations. But, slacking aside, it makes sense to start my entries about Tanzania with a post about the dallas given the role they have played thus far. I was incredibly sheltered upon arrival and was picked up from the airport in a van owned by the local volunteer organization (TVE). My first introduction to the dallas was two days later on my first trip to placement. One of the TVE managers took two other volunteers along with me to show us how to travel to our placements. The other two were nursing students from the Netherlands. We took a yellow dalla together from the volunteer house to the main Arusha bus stop and then wound our way through the city by foot. We arrived at the hospital they were to be placed at and waited in the entry area for the hospital director. While we waited we were astounded by the “wheelchair” we saw - it looked like a joke from a BBQ gone awry. The bottom of the frame was a basic wheelchair but the chair itself was a plastic lawn chair. Yikes. 

The hospital director finally arrived and we were able to continue the journey to my placement at Nice school. We continued on foot through Arusha until we reached a different “bus station” where it was explained to me that there was no specific colored dalla to look for - I had to find one where the conductor was yelling “Swahilini". The first one we found was packed to the gills so we waiting for the next one and then boarded and waited for it to fill to the brim too. Not just seats, mind you, the small standing area near the doorway as well. A dalla dalla is essentially a cross between a passenger van and a minivan - it has four rows of seats; the back row seats four, the second to back seats four - once the final seat over the wheel well is pushed down, and the two front rows seat three. When I say a row seats three or four people, that is not three or four by American standards - it means three bodies are squished together so any sense of personal space has to be abandoned. There is usually a backward facing bench behind the drivers seat but there is definitely not enough legroom between the bench seating and the front row. Once the seats fill up, people fill in the standing area next to the door - of course the roof is low so this entails contorting yourself into a hunched position and bracing yourself by holding onto the seats. The conductor stands in the doorway with the top half of his body out the window beckoning to people on the side of the road for more passengers. When it’s time to pay he jingles a handful of change at you and you pay up. 400 Tsh per ride, which is equivalent to about 25 cents. You let the conductor know your stop and he bangs on the van to alert the driver, slides the door open as the van slows down and the awkward process of extracting yourself from the mass of bodies begins. The only people who seem to move out of the way are the standing riders - the seated riders pretty much stay where they are so you’re left crawling awkwardly over their bodies through the cramped space and nothing feels as amazing as being outside on your own feet again. If you’re incredibly lucky and get on a completely empty dalla you can get one of the two seats in the very front on the bench seat with the driver. But those are special days.

The second dalla to Swahilini was interesting - the passengers seemed a little less sophisticated, which I’m using quite loosely here, than the passengers in the first dalla headed into town. There were large bags of rice and produce being shoved under the seats and many of the women wore more traditional mumu type dresses and headwraps. I was surprised there wasn’t a crate of chickens on board. Before I had time to think about it we left the paved road and bounced along a deeply rutted dirt road. The buildings began to change as well, there were less concrete buildings and more structures built with sticks and mud. We got off at a stop called “corner” and walked the remainder of the 15 minute walk to school. The town felt like a frontier town with it’s shack lined, dirt road. I felt a lot of eyes on me and they didn’t feel friendly, or even particularly curious. We left the road and walked along a path that trailed along a small stream adorned with empty plastic bottles, wrappers and various litter. There were occasional buildings but we didn’t encounter many people and in all honesty, I began to wonder how comfortable I would really be doing this walk alone. Suddenly we were there - we walked through a small opening in a gate and were at Nice school. I’ll save the stories of the school for another time, this one is for the dallas! 

We didn’t reach the school until almost 10:30 since the travel and waiting at the hospital had taken considerable time. I was feeling particularly alarmed at my lack of directional awareness. I generally have a very good sense of direction, I’m a visual person and maps play a big role in figuring out my whereabouts but the only map I had was from a guidebook on my Kindle. I was pretty sure this frontier town was not on my map. I couldn’t make sense of which way to walk through Arusha town to catch the second dalla since we had gone to the hospital first and I was not feeling particularly confident about this new commute. The girl who navigated me to school waited and navigated me home as well; home was definitely easier but I asked her to accompany me again the next day for the morning trip to make sure I knew the way directly from my home stay.

TVE had stressed during orientation that they would have someone help you travel to your placement for as long as needed. I think it would be a good investment to hand out some decent maps, and I learned later that has been recommended by many previous volunteers as well. What do we know? ;) The second trip the following morning trip helped me get my bearings and I was comfortable getting home alone. Day three was especially exciting though - somehow I missed the stop for “corner”. I think it’s pretty likely that the swerving of the dalla to avoid the deep ruts and the crowded interior which prevented me from seeing out the windows might have had something to do with it. So I ended up at the end of the line in Swahilini. Apparently even more of a frontier town than “corner”. A very kind local man who had been on the same dalla stayed with me to help me sort things out; which involved buying and adding credit to my phone, calling a few different TVE staff members until we reached one and then conversations in Swahili to inform them where I was. I felt terrible that I was holding up his day. I offered to just take the dalla back to town and start over. He told me in his broken English that he didn’t want to leave me there because there “are many robbers”. We took another dalla back to “corner” and he insisted on walking me to the school, even though I knew the way at that point. I think he also knew I was good for a tip, but he deserved it, I have no idea what might have happened had he not been my guardian angel that day, helping me reach school safely. Fortunately that has been my most dramatic incident with the dalla dallas to date.

We were warned to be extremely careful with our belongings since many thefts happen during calla rides. More than one volunteer has been the victim of a pickpocket or had their bag slashed open and items removed, sometimes without even noticing. I brought nothing more than a small amount of money to get me back and forth, water and my phone. Unfortunately one week into our stay a very serious incident occurred as one of the other volunteers was assaulted on a dalla. She had been traveling alone and was seated in the back of the van. When the van reached town people got off at the bus stop but the conductor pushed her back in, closed the door and the driver continued to drive the van away. She offered her money and phone but it was clear that was not the intent. Had she not been wearing scrubs under her coat the situation might have been much worse. The scrubs startled the conductor when he assaulted her and gave her just enough time to kick him and escape. It was a frightening reality of what can happen. TVE responded by visiting each residence and telling all volunteers that we should not travel alone on dallas. I was relieved that nothing more serious had happened but felt terrible for the girl who was attacked. I was glad that TVE responded so quickly and agreed that in reality, it is probably safest if people travel together.

On the opposite end of the spectrum, my most priceless dalla moment to date was when Andrew visited and we were taking the dalla back from school. We were squeezed onto the bench behind the driver where I ended up with four legs from two different women wedged into my crotch. Good thing I’m flexible. Andrew had a man’s legs in his crotch as well so I felt like we were both equally mortified. The ladies seemed to find it very entertaining, laughing and speaking to each other in Swahili, clearly we were the butt of the joke. We did our part to sit there and look as casual as possible about it while the entire dalla full of passengers stared at us facing them. The vehicle continued to stop off and pick people up until not only was the standing area full, but the door remained open and the conductor and a passenger hung out the door. Andrew whipped out his GoPro and took a quick video which gives a laughable glimpse into the scene but doesn’t fully show how many adults were crammed onto this vehicle. I miss my commutes on Nosy Komba!