Traveling in Africa: “Hakuna Matata” (Part 1)

Traveling in Africa is the most exciting, confusing, challenging and wonderful experience. It already starts by trying to find out what means of transportation you can use to travel from point A to B.
I wanted to travel to Mombassa in Kenya to see the performance of The Kenyan Performing Arts Group (KPAG), and meet my friends.

Transport is business. Taxi’s and mini-buses (Daladala) are privately owned as well as the many bus companies. Everybody has people working for them to find as much people as possible to travel with their bus, daladala or taxi. Having experienced the loads of people at the bus station that want to direct you to their buses, for me results in chaos instead of an overview. Because I (and you) am used to internet or an information desk…
I decided to seek information from a bus company a bit outside the central bus stop. I could not travel to Mombassa with their bus company. But there was this man (also behind the counter but not from the same bus company) who knows the bus I can take “Hakuna Matata”! Without hesitation he directs me to walk with him and there I arrived in the middle of the bus station (but now avoiding all other people offering their help because obviously “he has got you”). A small second hand table serves as a ticket desk. A Mzee (old man) informed me that they have buses to Mombassa that leave 7 am and 3 pm every day. I buy myself a ticket for the Saturday-morning bus. Somehow I still stumble “don’t you need to write down my reservation somewhere?”…He replies “Hakuna Matata”.

Saturday morning:
4.30 am. Now I know for sure this rooster in my garden must be confused. He starts to see light around 4.15 am….

5.30 am. This must be my alarm clock…while it is still dark outside I jump out of bed…MOMBASSA!!! I asked “my” taxi driver to pick me from home at 6.30 am to take me to the bus station.

6.33 am. He is not there, but I tell myself “Hakuna Matata” while walking towards the gate. There I see a taxi approaching signing his lights (now the rooster should start… it is getting light). The taxi stops next to me. I am surprised to find a different driver, but in Tanzania you cannot start to express your puzzled mind straight away. “Habari za asubuhi (How is your morning)?” “Salama” (okay) he replies, “Habari yako” (How are you)? “Mzuri” (Fine) I reply. Now I can ask my question…”where is my driver?”…”Oh he got a problem, so he send me to pick you”…(Hakuna Matata).

6.45 am We arrive at the bus station and I report myself on time at the Mzee his second hand table desk. “Shikamo” (greeting to an elder or respected person). “Marahaba” is his reply and “Hu’Jambo” (how are you?). “Si Jambo” (fine) I reply.
(Swahili has very many variations of the same question/answer. You might think people had a very interesting exchange of ideas while actually they repeat the same question in its different forms).
Please sit down this Mzee says. I sit down behind the so called “ticket desk” and try to stop thinking about asking “where is the bus”, but instead to let myself float into the stream of “Hakuna Matata”. He offers me coffee. A young boy carries a large iron tea pot around the busstation offering people small cups of coffee for 100 Tsh (10 ct.). I refuse (also thinking I will leave soon).. but after 30 minutes floating on my “Hakuna Matata” thoughts I can’t help to find myself asking “where and when is the bus leaving?”. Mzee looks at me…”Just wait, it will come”. And there I float again.

7.30 am Mzee makes some (mobile) phone calls and stands up, “wait here” (I was already). He disappears and 5 minutes later he returns to say “come with me”. I follow. He directs me to sit on the side of the road (while finding me a piece of cardboard to sit on). He asks a boy if the Raqib bus has already passed by. I am happy I understand this conversation in Swahili so I can reassure myself “Hakuna Matata”. Mzee walks to the other side of the street, standing there, talking, making phonecalls, smoking and once in a while waving his hand in a “Hakuna Matata” wave.

8 am. I am still in Moshi on the side of the street waiting for my 7 o’clock bus. I start to make calculations of my arrival time in Mombassa and I do start to worry if I will make the performance of KPAG!! Numerous people pass me by, they greet me, asking how I am?, where do I need to go?, do I have a husband?, do I want to buy sweets, soda, golden watches?

8.20 am. Suddenly Mzee waves me to come (which is a different wave..). I have to enter a Daladala towards the end of town with him. I still try not to panic and ask “Why do we move away from the bus station?” I try to go with the flow..”Hakuna Matata” and indeed we stop at an almost empty bus where the conductor says to me while smiling “Yes we go to Mombassa” Your seat will be number 7 (there are no numbers in this bus, nor this is a bus which you trust to be able to drive you 8 hours to Mombassa), but “Hakuna Matata”. Again I cannot help myself to ask “When do we leave?”. “We wait for the bus from Arusha to come, we leave 9 am In S’Allah (God will know)”. I now really start to panic I will not make it in time. I send a message to KPAG…they reply “No problemo”…Yes, Nienja, remember “Hakuna Matata”. Okay I try to relax and float again….

Then suddenly it is 9 am and the bus from Arusha arrives, men and women enter the bus and…we leave for Mombassa…!!!

"Hakuna Matata"...To be continued…..