In 10th Gear

I’m only two-thirds of the way through this journey, but I think the trip from Harare to Dar es Salam will be hard for the blog bus to top.

‘Executive’ bus line is apparently the only company left making this trip (I’m sure fuel prices and border hassles are an issue), which is really the only consolation you have for suffering through their ‘services.’ Their buses, each decked-out with a different soccer/corporate sponsorship (?) theme, are mutant experiments in transportation apparently because the body was mistakenly made too narrow and the engine has 10 gears and is designed for an eighteen-wheeler (seriously, the driver told me all of this and referred to them as ‘factory rejects’). So, the bus is only really comfortable at about 70 miles an hour – ideal for modern freeways, insane for the deteriorating conduits of this trip – with no shocks of course. Taking off from Harare and streaking across the Shona plateau was quite spectacular though. The stars were crystal in the wide-open sky and we were going so fast that they were literally rising in the north.

Don’t worry, we would more than make up for such expedience.

A stop for beer and food at midnight: the drivers and conductors have restaurants all over the route that give them free meals for stopping and forcing their customers to loiter.

Countless road blocks: the only feasible way for Southern Africa to 'patrol' the roads. We stopped at dozens and one of the conductors told me he was paying 10 - 20,000 Kwatcha ($4 - $7 U.S.D.) per stop in Zambia as a bribe. I recall being woken-up at one point to an officer coming onto the bus yelling "you have nine conductors, NINE conductors..." then shutting-up just as suddenly before we were on our way.

A rest at the border: we arrived at each border around 3 am and would ‘sleep’ on the bus until it opened at 7.

A stop in Lusaka: According to the conductor, it wouldn’t be fair to the customers to drive during the blistering Zambian day – I suspect it has much more to do with the bus overheating – so we were allowed 6 hours in the capital to, well, basically people just hang-out around the bus station, which is also ideal for the drivers because they’re involved in a great deal of commerce (currency, drugs, charcoal transport…) on this trip, but I managed to wander around Lusaka with a guy I met on the bus. There happened to be some kind of relay marathon going on too, so we followed its course through the city, which was interesting. Caught the Arsenal v. Tottenham match too – ended up running back across the city ourselves to make it to the station on time.

Back on the road streaking through the Zambian night, struggling to sleep with the wind blowing in my face because the window by my side won’t fully close (seriously, all this bus was missing was a screaming baby), then another rest at the border, another sunrise as we cross into Tanzania.

Southern Tanzania is stunning. I was lucky to catch it at the tail-end of the rains right now and everything glowed a deep green. We descended from the border and cut across the Rift Valley, followed by a steady climb up twisting roads – air-breaks and low-gears of our eighteen-wheeler were not pleasing to passengers or engine. Beautiful views and the temperatures were relatively low , however one passenger needed an emergency dose of Cypro; feel sorry for that guy…

I’m probably bitching a little too much; the guys who run the show at Executive really did make this great. Being the only bus, there are many repeat customers so everyone on the bus seemed to know each other despite half a dozen languages and twice as many nationalities. We even forgave the driver’s death-wish after a while, with one man nodding and saying on every break neck turn: “He knows his bus, he knows his bus,” and the rest of us consenting quietly. The conductors made the border crossings relatively painless, despite the fact that there was no semblance of organization on the part of the state officers there. By the way, the Zim./Zambia border is teeming with crooks and cons. This was blatant to me, so I didn’t exchange money there, luckily had about $5 worth that I traded with a Canadian in SA. At the next border though, I needed to exchange, so I asked an immigration officer where the Forex. was and he pointed to the herd of youngsters lurking outside the window and said “those boys will change money with you.” Turns out I didn’t get a bad deal, but that was funny.

More thieves at the Dar bus stop (don’t expect many pictures here), literally circling me just before my taxi arrived to deliver me safely to an amazing apartment owned by my new friend Justine (thanks Templefro). A beautiful place on the Ocean just north of Dar with a balcony and view of the Dhows bobbing in the bay. The toll for it: 52 hours, 3 countries, 1 Cypro, and zero sleep. Completely worth it, I wouldn’t hesitate to recommend Executive for your next bus trip from Harare to Dar.