The Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round…

April 23rd, 2010

The trip from Burgersfort, South Africa to Outapi, Namibia was fairly long and boring so I will highlight only the most memorable parts. In the early hours of the morning at the bus rank in Burgersfort we loaded ourselves and our bags into our ride. The rickety van contained 16 orange seats, a bumper sticker which read, appropriately, Trust in Jesus, a sub woofer crammed into the trunk, and a fold down flat screen TV for playing music videos. Wedged between Brian and two other men in the back seat, earplugs doing their best to muffle the inappropriately loud ‘in flight’ entertainment, the bass from the speakers pounded into my back as I tried to sleep. An hour into the four hour journey I was jolted awake by a violent jerk of the van and a feeling of panic. The van lurched hard to the left, threatening to flip over as the driver held steady and, thankfully, resisted the natural urge to break which surely would have flipped us. Instead he held us straight as we skidded 300 yards to a stop on the dirt shoulder of the road. Smoke, dust, and the unmistakable acrid smell of burning rubber filling the bus, everyone scrambled out of the vehicle as if afraid the bus would explode at any minute. Turns out not too far off. As the driver walked up the road to try to salvage the tire that had caused the crash, we looked under the van. The cause of the crash was not, as one would normally predict, a flat tire. Rather the entire supporting structure holding the tire onto the van had simply fallen off the underside of the car, the tire had slipped off unhurt, and our van had skidded down pavement for 300 yards, wearing the metal under the car down to nothing. We were lucky, had the van flipped over going 100 miles per hour not all of us would have survived. We were equally lucky that the sparking metal did not puncture the full tank of gas that was inches away from the tire that fell off. The driver was stupid and irresponsible which seems to be not unusual in Africa. Decking his car out with expensive TV’s and speakers, he had welded together the bracket that held on the wheels of his vehicle - his livelihood, - rather than spend the money to replace the tiny part.

Four hours later we arrived at the guesthouse by the airport where we would stay the night. After a trip to the mall to look at real stores and see what I expect to be my last movie in a cinema for the next year, we spent an unexpected evening with the other guests at the accommodation. Everyone but us at the guesthouse were hostages in South Africa as a result of the volcano in Iceland. Had been for upwards of a week and would continue to be for the next week. As is often the case in these situations, there was an air of comradeship and we shared drinks and stories into the night.

And so ends my South African chapter. I am no closer to defining the experience or how I feel about this country and its people. In many ways the mixed experience has been my fault, my inability to face the adventure openly and to resist the urge to judge the unfamiliar. In other ways, I am sure there are facets of truth in my observations of a country that is still struggling viscerally with its divided past, its history, and its future and that still contains massive inequality in terms of resources, money, and education all of which leads to the mixture of hospitality and out and out rudeness that I encountered. I am the first to admit that my motivation floundered during this month; I didn’t see the point in forging relationships and getting 100% invested in the project and because of that I don’t doubt that I missed out on worthwhile experiences. But as I leave this country, loaded down with travel brochures espousing the beauty of the country that I am to call home for the next year, my drive is back. And so for the benefit of all, I will stop the self analysis and learn to let some things lie; let us close this chapter and face forward to my Namiban Adventure.