MID-TERM BREAKDOWN

Last week was mid-term break. I stayed at school because it was busy in the office. Meanwhile some of my friends went away. I was pretty jealous as I would have liked to have gone but I've been living vicariously through their stories - this one is my favourite.

Paul (Aussie Paul for anyone who knows him) and Dan (Old Man Dan for anyone who knows him too) decided to head off to Mombasa, a beachside town in Kenya. It's a bit of a journey there. You take the bus to the coast of Tanzania (Tanga) which can take up to 7 hours and then you take another bus into Kenya and to Mombasa.

After a few nice days there and rather a lot of rain, the boys started to make their way back to school on Thursday. That is until, an hour into the journey, Dan realised that his passport was still under the bed in the fairly mediocre hotel they had stayed at. Dan got off the bus and Paul stayed on with the bags. Dan trekked back to the hotel and caught the night bus back - he got back around 12 hours after Paul.

As Dan was leaving he asked Paul for some US$ for his visa back into Tanzania as he only had Tanzanian currency (not the most popular currency here!). So Paul gave him a US$50 note, leaving himself with only a US$100 note. When you get to the border, you get off the bus, pay your visa fee and if you're unlucky, get tricked into paying a second fee. Paul was too clever for that but found himself in a predicament as the immigration men said they had no change for a US$100 note (the visa costs US$50). After holding his ground for some time, they eventually came up with US$40 - it was $10 short but Paul decided to cut his losses and head back tothe bus, only to see a big empty space where it had been. It had left in his absence.

Now the exciting part is the story is that Paul got to say "Follow that bus..." though it was probably lost in the translation into Swahili. So for the next twenty minutes, Paul and his excitable taxi driver friend pursued the bus. As the taxi gained on the bus, to Paul's horror, the taxi driver leaned over Paul and out the passenger window to attract to the drivers attention. Finally, after much waving (and swerving I suspect), and a US$20 cab-ride later the bus stopped and Paul rejoined his fellow passengers. I guess as it transpired, the visa had cost him $80!

All was calm again. A few hours later, the bus pulled into Moshi, a large town around an hour from Arusha, only to be impounded by the police - complete with passengers, driver, baggage and all. Paul and his fellow passengers found themselves sitting in a police yard, unsure if it was just the bus and driver or it's contents/ passengers that had to stay. Finally, they filed off the bus, out of the police yard and went in search of transport. They ended up on a dala dala to Arusha.

Paul, as a regular user of dala dalas, wasn't surprised to find himself one of around 30 passengers in the dala dala as this is commonplace. But some of the Kenyans, having come from law-abiding Mombasa, were less than impressed with having to share a seat with three others and possibly a child on their lap, and complained the entire way there.

When Dan returned the following day, passport in hand, having spent the entire night before travelling, he didn't get much sympathy from Paul. It was a toss up to decide who had been more misfortunate! Aren't I glad I worked all week!