Traveling in Africa “Hakuna Matata” (Part 2)

During the bus trip to Mombassa I had very nice company of a woman called Asma. She was dressed in traditional Muslim dress (which is black) and she wore a headscarf. She was furthermore almost the only woman I have seen wearing make-up. Asma speaks good English, it made me curious to know her. It appeared she has a Somalian background and comes from a family of 12 people. Her father lived in Tanzania since he was 18 years old; her mother came through an arranged marriage (he 35, she 14 years old)! Asma talked about the life of herself and her brothers and sisters. All of them had a chance to study. She went to India to study and had married an English Somalian husband. But she recently divorced him, because he could not be faithful (she caught him in the act!). Even sadder, she had to leave her 4 year old son behind. We had a nice discussion about relationships between men and women, whereby I always find shared values again although you seem to have a complete different background.

Asma was very helpful on the way to Mombassa to find us toilets when stopping, credit for our phones, exchanging money safely. Imagine we traveled many hours on a dust-road through the middle of nowhere.. The bus to Mombassa was still trying to get more people to travel with them (and increase there income), resulting in frequent stops (at no man’s land) to let people travel with us (and allowed a whole lot of dust winds inside, which makes my face red and my hair stand up straight).

At the boarder the people without seats, standing in the middle of the bus, first had to get out at a safe distance from the officials. Buses are not allowed to travel with too many people in one bus. Therefore these people had to walk across the boarder and were then allowed to get back in (I wonder if their tickets are more cheap). Crossing the boarder of Tanzania and Kenya takes about 1 hour. Filling paperwork, getting all necessary stamps and checking all luggage (and in these countries people do not travel light!). I try not to think of the “lost” time…and the wish to be in Mombassa soon…”Hakuna Matata”.

Then, around 2 pm, we drive of the road into a small village…. “What?… Why?… questions again arise in my head. Many people get out of the bus… Oh no..not again?!!! Luckily Asma is familiar with my need to be informed and my urge to be in Mombassa on time. She gets inquiries and it appears our breaks do not function properly. Good to hear such news while they are now being fixed by young boys with welding-iron which are very outdated..… but “Hakuna Matata” people here have the best knowledge about fixing the unfixable. We take about 45 minutes before we are on the road again…

About 3 more hours to go to Mombassa. I start to ask people for directions in Mombassa, prices for taxi’s etcetera. I realize the ridiculousness of my situation. Every body needs to be in Mombassa and had expected to be there early. But why do all of them not seem to bother? Every body just goes with the flow… Somebody explains to me why; people here feel that God is watching over you. When things seem to slow you down, he is protecting you from possible terrible things that would otherwise happen (So that is the logic behind the “Hakuna Matata” thought). But all of them realize that Mzungu’s (white people) have a different concept of time, and all are willing to help me. They discuss about directions, helping me to find a taxi in Mombassa and get it at a good price. KPAG sends a reassuring message, they will start the show around 6 pm. it seems I will still make it!

I get out of the bus in Mombassa at exactly 6 pm…after a for me almost 12 hour journey.. In Holland you would ask for your money back because of all delays. But here people are just happy to have arrived where they wanted to go, irrespective of time.

My time pressure hits me again...the KPAG show will start….6pm!... My bus friends arrange a taxi, while suddenly all of them also get in…we seemed to have a shared taxi. Oh gosh…I start to worry again, will I make it on time dropping of all these people first? But the driver understands the content of “I am in a hurry” and steps on the gass firmly (later somebody explains Kenyan drivers are the most ruthless drivers of East Africa), in this case I do not mind….

The whole concept of the “Hakuna Matata” thought smashes into my face again arriving at Little Theater in Mombassa. Dj Eric is standing outside on my arrival (and I am so happy to see a familiar face again)! My bus-friends wave me goodbye from the taxi, all happy for me I arrived safely. I meet Odak and Saskia (this is great!) and it appears the show did not start, also waiting for me to arrive from Tanzania. Of course: This is Africa, no hurry but flexible timing to ensure all people feel at ease and will be able to relax.

“Hakuna Matata” No worries, everything will be all right.