I’ve been spending a lot of time in the car recently. And when I say car, I mean a seventeen passenger van we call “Logos” for obvious reasons:
During the school year, Logos serves as one of our two school buses, usually transporting close to forty students on the “Magu Route.” I once had the privilege of riding on this early morning drive through back roads—or over grass where there is no road at all—to pick up students from their homes in Magu, a city about 40 minutes east of Kitongo. Kanaeli, our driver, cruises through the neighborhoods, stopping at various homes and honking loudly. Soon, one or more children come bursting through the front door and run into the van, sometimes holding their shoes or a chapatti (flat pancake, delicious) for breakfast.
Logos is also our vehicle of choice when it comes to trips into town. It’s a great size because it doesn’t use as much fuel as say, our school bus named “Coaster.” At the same time, it can accommodate a number of employees who need to do various errands.
For example, we used Logos to take Shannon to the airport last month when she was leaving to go back home. Stephanie, Shannon and I planned to go in Logos for a relaxing lunch, pick up a couple items at the market, and then drop Shannon off at the airport with plenty of time to spare.
When we went out that morning to take off in Logos, we discovered there were several other people who planned to go into town:
Magibe, our farm manager, wanted to purchase supplies for the chicken coop. Two of our Masai, Jackson and Samweli, took advantage of a free ride to visit with relatives for the afternoon. We dropped Musa off in Nyanguge to pick up a part for our generator. Rachel was coming to buy vegetables for the girls’ dinner that evening. Mama Tulieta needed to take Veneranda to the hospital for a check-up.
Before we knew it, our “girls day out” became a Super Shuttle and exercise in time management, as Logos needs to be back at 3:30 to take students home after school. Poor Shannon was wedged in between a pile of mosquito nets and her suitcases for the length of our journey. Somehow, even though riots in town stopped traffic for an hour (a story for another day), we managed to get everything accomplished—except lunch and souvenirs for Shannon. Pole.
Logos has been having a rough time recently. Two weeks ago, a rock fell out of a truck and onto the windshield, shattering it. We drove for two days, sans windshield, until we could get it fixed. The sliding door on the left side falls off its track pretty regularly, so one must be very gentle. The sliding door on the right side cannot be opened from the inside, so you have to reach your arm through the window and tug from an incredibly awkward angle in order to free yourself.
Another challenge is the 6.4 kilometer dirt road from the highway to our campus. This time of year, when it rains almost daily, the road is particularly bad. In places, huge holes and trenches make it almost impassable, especially if it’s muddy. The government promises to make repairs, but I understand their reluctance to do so for such a rural route. The only vehicles that ever use this road belong to missionaries or a condom dispensary.
I often find myself gripping the seat in front of me, trying to mask the panic on my face, whenever Logos tilts more than twenty degrees to the side…or slides across the mud like it’s ice…
…or gets stuck in a muddy crevice when I’m on my way to pick up four travel-weary friends from a five week tour of the United States.
Let me just tell you, after hearing the engine stall, if your driver groans and immediately starts rolling up his pants and removing his socks and shoes, it’s never a good thing.
I was particularly nervous knowing that the previous evening, Logos had been stuck for over an hour in this same place. As it got dark and Logos could not be coaxed from the mud, Jackie almost called one of the Masai to come out and sleep in the van to guard it overnight. Before she could get to her phone, Logos was miraculously freed! It’s enough to move anyone to prayer.
So, Kanaeli is removing his shoes, and I’m ditching my flip flops—after the rice paddy incident last week, I’m taking no chances. I hike up the ankle-length skirt of my nicest dress here and gingerly trod through the mud to the front of the car while Kanaeli digs Logos out from behind. A crowd of people gather to help—two women on their way to the market, one of our secondary school students, and Mama Miriam, who just happened to be passing by on a piki-piki at the very moment we needed her. All of us push the front of the car back through the sludge, and Logos makes a second pass over the place of doom with hardly any trouble.
Ten minutes and a bunch of mud later, we were on our way.
And that’s how we roll around here!
