On the Road, Which is Sometimes Off the Road

We have one of these:

 We were told, "You can't simply use this as a town car!" by a horrified Zambian.

The thing is like driving a bus, no joke.  It's enormous, and quite often larger than the actual street lanes.  The turn radius is ridiculous, which leads to a fairly frequent comedy of errors that looks like that scene from the Austin Powers movie where he's got to back up a little, turn forward a little, back up a little, turn forward a little, ad infinitum.

Of course, problems aside, these are all over the place here.  I think they are probably second in population to Toyota Corollas (I have seen corollas bottomed out and stuck on the unregulated speed bumps here.  It's funny because it isn't my car).  So as ridiculous as I feel driving this, I'm usually on the road with several others at the same time.

Other issues that have arisen with my husband's vehicle choice (I requested a Hilux, just to make that clear) include shifting difficulty on par with the old tractor I used to drive while at my grandfather's farm.  Did I mention that my husband bought a manual transmission?  Right.  He did.

Normally this would not be an issue at all.  Thanks to aforementioned grandfather and my own father's dislike of automatic vehicles for most of my years of existence, I'm quite adept at a manual.

ON THE RIGHT SIDE OF THE ROAD.  Which means with me driving in the left hand side of the car, which feels like the right side of the car to me, unlike the right side of the car which feels wrong.

Nevertheless, I have figured it out and today was my baptism by fire - the run to school all by myself.  Well, myself and the kids.  So it wasn't really by myself, but it was by myself because there wasn't another certified driver present.  Ahem.

We left about five minutes early, as I wanted to leave time for accidental stall outs when mistaking fourth for second (which happens embarrassingly often to me when turning a corner).  Luckily, although the traffic here is ridiculous, it is also slow.  If you get out of third gear, you're asking for trouble.  The propensity of the Airtel and MTN cell-minutes sellers to jump in front of cars with complete disregard for their own safety can not be underestimated!  Navigating the pedestrians is more fraught with risk than worrying about other cars, really.

This picture was taken while we were moving.  A moving vehicle does not stop pedestrians. 

In any case, I made it down the road toward the school without much incident and dropped the kids off.  They were fifteen minutes early, but I shooed them out of the car with admonitions to study their flashcards (another aside - no index cards available here, so I have to cut my own.  As a dedicated believer in all things flashcard, I consider it a small price to pay to drill the kids in French and chemistry terms) and set off on my merry way, feeling quite proud and accomplished that it had all gone so well.

I should have paid more attention in CCD growing up, because I forgot my Proverbs and my pride and haughtiness was just begging for destruction (note to catechismal scribes - can we have that made into a responsorial for mass?  I know it's not from Psalms, but I need frequent reminders).

About halfway back home I encountered the bane of my developing world driving experience... the minibus.  I love watching these guys when I'm not on the road - they are very colorful, as is the teeming horde of humanity crammed within.  But when I am driving, the ridiculous risks they take as a matter of course incite a bubbling cauldron of rage within me.

Waiting for victims

And so it was this morning when a minibus came barreling down the road in the wrong lane, at the the ridiculous equivalent speed of about 30 miles per hour.  THIRTY miles per hour?  PSHAW!  That is unheard of here!  Just yesterday I thought I was hauling butt down Independence Ave at a whopping 40 KPH - in US terms, about 25 MPH.

It felt like I was flying, no joke.

After a few crucial seconds where my mind played this trick on me, "Is he on the wrong side of the road or am I?", I realized I was about to die and steered the truck toward the shoulder of the road.  Which, of course, was teeming with people walking to work.

Those that walk in Africa are well acquainted with such problems, and for the most part they effortlessly moved themselves aside and out of the way.  One poor man was a little too close, and he resorted to diving, a la Tom Daley.

After removing himself from the area of concern, he jumped up, straightened his trousers, and joined me in shaking a fist and shouting at the retreating minibus driver.   That is the accepted behavior here, by the way.  I haven't noticed road rage like what I encounter (okay, what I perpetuate) driving in Los Angeles, but it is encouraged that you inform people when they are acting like idiots and endangering others.  If it is truly an accident or something a person can't figure out (like when I mistake fourth and second), people are very understanding and calm about it.  And this is the ONE place I've ever been where you just can't travel too slow - no one bats an eye at slow vehicles, even if they go around them when they have the chance.

But people here will not stint to tell you, in a very parental way, when you are screwing up.  I have to say it is one of the most culturally endearing characteristics of living here.  Anyone older than I am is parental toward me and grandparently toward my children.  Anyone younger assumes I am going to boss them around.

And if you know someone, they are your family and are entitled to such familial privileges as telling you off when necessary.  This privilege is also reversed, and I can point out idiocy as well.

Anyway, the diving Zambian and I shared a moment of synchronous rage and then went our separate ways; I being thrilled that he understood I was not the problem in this instance.

I made it the rest of the way home easily (knock on wood for the future), and will repeat the whole thing (hopefully minus the idiot minibus driver) this afternoon when I pick the kids up and stop at the store to see if they have garlic in today, as yesterday they were out.