The Nightmare of Transport

Every Peace Corps Volunteer has a story or two about the time when they took the trip from hell, usually while using public transportation.

I would even go so far as saying that anyone who has ever visited a developing country has similar tales of terror, frustration and hours spent doing nothing but waiting and nursing transportation-induced headaches.

I’m no different. I hate traveling.

This is the road outside of my house, M8.  It's a very, very nice road for anywhere - not just Zambia.  Only one problem... not much traffic, which is probably the reason it's still a nice road.

In Zambia, there’s an array of transport options, but none are great in their efficiency, speed or even safety. And all of them can cause a significant migraine.

Essentially, options here in Zambia come down to planes, trains and automobiles — like everywhere else. But then there is the infrastructure, which is more or less what you would expect — not so great.

Planes would be the best option in that they’re fast, fairly reliable and without the constant bouncing and jostling of hours on this country’s roadways (which sometimes resemble Michigan’s after a hard winter).

However, the price puts me out of luck, as my meager monthly stipend doesn’t allow me to travel through the friendly skies. So, I have to go to plan B and C: automobiles and trains.

In cities these minibuses are one of the main forms of transportation, the other being taxis.  They can carry around 15 passengers, but in Kenya I once rode in one that carried 23.  Awful.

Automobiles consist of buses and private cars, and both of these are at the mercy of road conditions and the skill of other motorists.

For example, one section of road (about 150 miles long) used to take two hours to traverse, but in recent months it has fallen into a pock-marked, crater-strewn stretch of road in such disrepair that traveling it now takes more than four hours.

And taking the buses, even on good roads, can be uncomfortable.

A lot of volunteers hitch-hike in Zambia.  Myself included, although I hate it more than anything else.  It's, to me, the worst way to travel.  Here my friend Dan is trying to flag us a ride.  The hitching sign here is a wave of the hand.  This is what Paul Simon is alluding to in his song "Diamonds On the Soles of Her Shoes" when he sings, "She makes the sign of the teaspoon and he makes the sign of the wave."  The wave is for further distances, while the teaspoon is for just around, or near, an area.  It should be noted that PC doesn't like us to hitch, but transport - as I complain about throughout this article - is difficult... anything is welcomed.

I’m pretty wide so being packed into a bus with five seats across isn’t the most comfortable of experiences, and then add in the ever-present chickens, goats and babies making an assortment of noises and smells, and I assure you it is just delightful.

I would be wrong in not mentioning the bus stations. They’re small depots spread across the country, and all are packed with buses, freight and other travelers — including peddlers of stuff most people would never want to buy, the occasional pick-pocket, food vendors and even black market currency exchange agents. It’s a small slice of mankind’s different sides.

Here a PC cruiser has just gotten a flat tire near the capital.  We use these beastly machines because most volunteers work in remote areas where the roads are exceptionally terrible.

The other automobile-related option is to use a car, which isn’t really an option, as volunteers aren’t allowed to own cars.

So, sometimes we try to hitchhike, which is strongly discouraged by the Peace Corps. I can’t reiterate that enough. But sometimes you just have to because there’s no other option.

There is also the train. This is the most time-consuming and unreliable method of travel.

But this option is used by a lot of vacationers who travel from Zambia to Tanzania. Leaving twice per week and taking around 72 hours, but costing only $60, the train is a good way to pass the days away in transit, at least going there. I rode it back too and nearly pulled my hair out from the monotony.

The train to Tanzania.  Fun on the way there, awful on the way back.  

The days are spent rocking and rolling in swaying train cars where windows open up to a continuously changing countryside, of which baobab trees, mountains, African villages, giraffes, baboons and impala slip by.

The train is far from perfect though. It has all the Third World amenities a person could ask for, with none of the luxuries I so hoped for. The price should have given this away I suppose.

There are options for traveling in Africa, but without deep pockets, a budget traveler is forced to rely on other, more bone-jarring and patience-trying routes.

In the end though I’ve at least got a couple years’ worth of stories to bring out at dinner parties. The kind that say, “Hey, look at me…I rode a train out of Central Africa, into East Africa, all while a chicken sat on my lap and a guy tried to sell me used underwear.”

That’s probably worth the trip.

Notice the sweat on my chest in this photo.  This is a dolla-dolla in Zanzibar.  It wasn't terrible, but that place was hot.  So, all I wanted was an A/C-cooled vehicle.  Nope, I got this pink, airy box to cruise around in.