Bad Luck November 2009

I didn’t have a lot of time to think about the huge pit of fear in my stomach as the day for our Kilimanjaro trip approached, we were busy closing the school, grading final exams and writing report cards, trying to fit in that last run (despite the protests of the kids), getting everything packed and solar taken down, and buying socks (big woolen socks, INCREDIBLY hard to find here where it is a million degrees every day).When they each showed up to Newala, late, with hair freshly braided and in their best clothes, we ate and then headed towards our first destination: the bus stand floor.

It had been decided the week before that rather than stay with family (which makes the most sense) we would rather stay at the bus stand in Newala, sleeping on the floor of the bus office. When Andrew, the young man in charge of Newala sleeping arrangements, stood at our final Killy meeting, he clasped his hands, grinned broadly, and with a solemn face stated that he “gave thanks to the god that the Akida (bus) people are letting us sleep at their office”. His announcement was received by the cheers of the other kids, so I swallowed back my protests and allowed them to figure out for themselves that a night sleeping on the cold ground may not be as great as they thought. It WAS a great as THEY thought.

Our bus didn’t leave until 4 am the next day, so the ladies and I got an early start to the night, around 10pm. The boys were quick to join us, dancing into the room and pushing the girls off of the mats. Upon realizing that the girls were not about to move, they switched tactics and decided to turn the office into a disco, using one phone and its only song (a backstreet boys song) to dance around the nearly hysterical girls and the protesting school head boy and secretary, both of whom vowed to kill the dancing boys in between sleepily aiming kicks at their shins.

Around 1 in the morning I awoke to all 5 of the girls trying to hassle the bathroom key out of a sleepy office worker. When asked where they were going and why they were being so loud they replied that they had to finish putting on their makeup and “looking smart” for the bus ride. At this point the dancing boys rolled over and told the girls that they were going to lock them out of the office if they kept waking them up. In response the girls decided to steal the boys underwear as insurance to get back into the office. Caous, but not sleep, ensued.

We finally got onto the bus at 430 in the morning, the kids excited and literally leaping with joy when they realized that they had the very first seats in the bus, one of them all the way up front with the driver. The bus ride was uneventful until we arrived at Tandahiemba. There I got into a loud argument with three of the bus conductors on how I didn’t pay for the three ladies seats in the front for them to stick huge televisions and generators on their feet (or on their laps, as one had the gall to try). The men gave in (generally Tanzanian men realize that I never give up, or shut up, until I get my way) and we moved along on our way.

Outside of Tandahiemba I started to fall asleep on the shoulder of a taller student (whose seating arrangement was switched at the last minute to accommodate me as a pillow, and to accommodate his needs for my iPod), and I noticed that all of the other students were starting to nod off as well. This was why I was surprised when I heard my student start to yell…

I opened my eyes when I realized the bus had finally stopped. The entire crash lasted seconds, but the silence that followed seemed to last forever. Then the screaming started. Admittedly most of the screaming was mine, aimed at the two unconscious students who had been ejected out of the windows of the bus, now hanging by their limbs to the twisted metal that remained. When they both came to and started screaming themselves, I almost started laughing; I’ve never been so relieved.

I can’t put into words the full story of what happened that day, though I continue to revisit the scene in my dreams every night. The student who was sitting next to the driver (who was miraculously unhurt) told me about the tractor in the middle of the road, and how the driver didn’t see the farmer until it was too late, and when he swerved he missed the tractor and instead went right into the mango tree. This same student had run 2.5 kilometers until he could find cell phone service and contact help on the only phone in our group that was left intact (my phone and iPod were lost in the crash). The hospital cars arrived, and after the longest 15 minute ride of my life, we arrived at the hospital. The final damage after we arrived at the hospital was: a broken leg, a broken clavicle, a severed earlobe, lost teeth and a ripped lip, 1 concussion, several head wounds, 1 gash (where you could see the bone) and 2 sets of incredibly hurt (but otherwise intact) legs.

The accident was bad, the 19 day stay at the hospital was worse, but I can report now that we are starting to get back into a routine. When my legs stop swelling several of the kids and I will begin to run again, and Habiba, the student with the broken leg, will reside at my home to rest until her cast comes off. As is tradition in Tanzania, many people come into my home every day to greet Habiba and then sit for hours on end looking at her, repeating sorry over and over again, and we have received so many mangos I don’t know what we are going to do with all of them.

Repeatedly I’ve heard “sorry”, “bad luck” and that our accident was “Gods plan” or “a test from God”. Surely this has been a test, my most difficult in Tanzania and in life in general. Despite the pain endured, there is nothing that can stop me from seeing the proof that someone was watching over us that day. My kids are all alive, they still laugh and smile, they can still dream. Killomanjaro may not have been in God’s plan for my kids or myself, but even now we are planning our big “comeback tour”. If nothing else I am thankful that this experience has shown me how much the kids have been impacted by my time here, and the even larger impact that they have had on my life. Our adventures continue soon…stay tuned!