This morning the bus leaves at 6:30 am and I sit in the front in the second row. I start a conversation with a middle-aged man next to me who speaks very good English. His name is Michael and he is from the region. He is an accountant for the local government.
At 7:15 am, we are still talking and I think to myself, this 9-hour bus ride will be nice. When suddenly we start to swerve a little. As I look up, I see we are about to crash into another bus. Our bus is going so carelessly fast (typical here) that it doesn’t have enough time to avoid a stopped bus ahead of us, but has just enough time to swerve to the left and crashes into the side of it.
Everything happens very fast but at the same time I feel like I am seeing it all in slow motion as Michael and brace ourselves for the impact. We take the shock in our knees as we hit the chair ahead of us.
When we stop, people start climbing out from the windshield of the bus, which is smashed. Passengers are moaning and bleeding, mainly from head injuries. I feel shell-shocked and give way to others who are injured. One man has blood pouring out of his mouth, another woman is crying, so I feel like I am ok compared to them. They manage to open the door and I finally get out.
I ask where the driver is as his side of the bus is smashed. He has been taken to the hospital.
Once we are out I pour some water on people’s hands, which are covered in blood. I realize the I pod pouch I was holding before the crash is gone. I go look for it and come back realizing this is the least of my worries now. A young man comes up to me and points to his lip asking me repeatedly “Is there leakage Is there leakage”. I see there is a small hole going through his mouth right below his lip. I tell him “pole sana” I am sorry and give him a large bandage leaving him feeling powerless.
Eventually I sit down on the edge of the road. I am the only white person. I get up again to look at the front of the bus and the surroundings. I realize we were so lucky. Not only the bus is smashed, I nearly took the front seat which would have sent me flying through the windshield. Also, we stopped on the side of the ditch without falling into it and 30 meters ahead of us was a ravine without any rails. So maybe the driver wasn’t so bad after all.
I sit down again and my right leg starts to throb and swell. I am told another bus is coming to take us to Morogoro. I am able to walk so I know my leg isn’t broken and I will just have a bad bruise. This whole time, I am getting texts from Ken and can I just say to the world: I love you Ken.
I spend the rest of the journey chatting with Michael but keeping an eye on the road. At one point we nearly get into an accident again with the new driver and the whole bus starts shouting at him. That part is actually funny.
When I get back to the Amani center, I get a very warm welcome. A little autistic girl named Hussina who recently joined us gives me a big hug and I am so pleased to see the change in her since I left.
I catch up with the other volunteers and Mama Bakhita and share the tales of my journey back to Morogoro.
I feel like leaving the Amani center for a week made me appreciate even more the life there. It’s a peaceful place and by the way, Amani means Peace in Swahili so it is quite fitting.
Even though I loved everything I saw this week and traveling with Heather and Dan, it was also tiring going from one place to another. Anyway, this is all part of traveling.
I am just very thankful to be alive today. I will never take a HOOD bus again!!!! They are maniacs.
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