Mzungu taking a daladala

Being one of Dar’s many citizens without private transport I commute to work with buses. Rush hour always gives a special feeling. The more you are in a hurry to get somewhere, the slower the bus. The more eager you are for a seat to relax your tired legs, the more likely that you will bend until your bus stop. Hardly a day goes by without some sort of adventure that takes place.

M/Tongani – Kawe. As I get on the conductor is already in the middle of his performance. As a real comedian he has made his stage, the passengers his audience. People tease him that he won’t know how to talk to a Mzungu? I know how to talk to a Mzungu, I’m not scared of them. Wazungu talk like animals you know. “WHOOff” like dogs. And you know what they say? Nani? “WHOOff” I know how to talk to a mzungu.

Mwenge – Posta. We were only few passengers on the bus yet, expecting to pick up more as we head towards town. Suddenly someone gets in so enormous that he can hardly get through the door. He takes a seat in front of me, and his huge body squeezes his neighbor into the side of the bus. The latter holds his breath, and presses his unhappy face against the window. Everyone in the bus chuckles quietly until our enormous friend starts making calls. He is as loud as he is big and we all take part in how he gets angry, angrier, and angriest. At last he drops off, still shouting in his phone, wriggling through the door. His neighbor takes a deep breath and everyone in the bus laughs out loud now.