‘Twas the day after Christmas, and all through the village, Monica meandered to undertake her trip mileage……I started off before 9a.m. from my house, laughing lightheartedly at the original plan of getting up “early” and being able to take the 7 or 8 a.m. bus.  It was, after all, Christmas break.  I was in no real hurry and had no schedule to keep – little did I know that was a very good thing.  I enthusiastically made plans to ride my bike to a friend’s home to pick something up and to leave the bike there.  This magnificent plan had two brilliant benefits.  One, I wouldn’t have to walk the distance through the village to the main road with numerous faces questioning me about where I was going and gawking at the mass quantity of baggage I was taking with me (namely, one back pack and a duffel bag).  Second and equally grand, was not having to physically carry the mass quantity of baggage.  Once outside of my now locked home and having secured my duffle bag onto the bike rack I stared quietly at my magnificent plan….a bicycle now weighed down which was to be ridden through deep sand that I struggled to navigate in normal circumstances.  An additional blow rapped squarely on my mind when I tried to sit on the bike while wearing a non-stretching denim skirt.  Not only did I not have enough “give” to power the pedals, but enough knee was bursting forth that now I was shocked at the abrupt display of immodesty.  And, as if fate were trying to convince the rest of the world that I was, as least for the moment, dimly lit at the base of my skull, I proceeded to stumble almost falling completely off the bike.  Being the athletic prowess that I am I kept from planting my face firmly to the ground, rather I rammed my heel down on a piece of metal pipe just off my porch.  In an attempt to curse fate I said to myself defiantly (sounding akin to a 12 year old), “that didn’t hurt!”  Yet, it did.

    I sat down on the withered but remaining coconut log now serving as a “bus stop” bench under this quite handsome and shade-providing mango tree.  I would wait here at the stop in the village for a ride to Mlandizi where I would catch the bus to Dar.  I should have known then something would go wrong – why, not a single marriage proposal was offered!  The day indeed was odd.  Finally, about 5 of us loaded into this tiny sedan and sat.....they popped the hood and looked around for a while, occasionally adjusting something but, mostly I think waiting out the mandatory provisional time allotted for passengers to begin to sweat profusely.  With all 5 of us having sufficiently achieved a sweat they decided they couldn't get the car to start.  Naturally, we switched to another car.  And, with all the extra space in this car that could only be measured in millimeters we added two other passengers.  This car started no problem, but instantaneously had as much difficulty as the first one in staying started.  As is the usual public transportation policy here, when you are having difficulty starting or keeping a vehicle started it is necessary for anyone standing near-by to give the car a push down the road.  And, so they did.  Much to our joy and satisfaction we charged off down the road….Equalizing our emotions, however, we lurched to a stop only about 20 feet away.  At this point the driver did what experience told him had at least worked in times past – he began furiously pumping the gas while ever so diligently maintaining the other foot on the brake – which to our sheer joy remained working.   After much manipulation and a good push it finally did start and off we went – this time for real.  With each passing uphill gradient I quietly said, “C’mon, you can do it!”  This was one of those few times in life when one truly wished the car was more like the Flintstone’s pre-historic vehicle operated by foot power.  At times I thought I’d give anything if we could open little trap doors to find earth beneath our feet and help this little tin can out.  Fate, still trying to prove her point, apparently was riding along.  We rounded a corner slowly, then slower, then slower until we came to a stop.  As we had been motoring at such a slow speed the entire time I was only certain that we had indeed been moving and had just not come to a stop simply because the terrain seemed still and those on foot were no longer flanking our sides but most assuredly passing us.  We were dutifully informed by our fearless driver that the car had run out of gas….fate had her laugh.  Hmmm, running out of gas only a quarter of the way into one’s trip….  On a NORMAL day it would have been insurmountably obvious that we never had enough gas to undertake the trip in the first place.  But this was no normal day – it was an odd day.   
                I tried calling all those in the village I thought could help, but most of the calls went unanswered and the rest went “unhelped.”  Most of the passing traffic was going in the opposite direction….some gave their condolences, others promised they would return, one even showed the upmost support of our plight by braking down right in front of us.  Slowly, as we waited under a shade tree by the side of the road, we began getting motorcycle lifts out one by one or two by two.  It was slightly reminiscent of some painful mass evacuation – several people sandwiched on one motorcycle with all they had bundled down to the bike somewhere.  Finally, my turn came.  As I remembered something I was hesitant to get on the two-seater bike.  I was wearing a non-stretching denim skirt.  With no other choice I climbed on; I could just imagine the smirk rising on fate’s face.  Already bearing a mass quantity of baggage I had decided that morning against taking a skirt wrap with me.  As we rode down the dirt road through different villages the driver received many accolades from the local male population, and a few “thumbs up” as well.  Not only was I a white female but my extremely white legs were bared for all to see beyond the borders of my knees!  I have to admit though, it was much cooler.  We arrived safely in Mlandizi; the “show” part of “show & tell” was over.  I got on a bus in Mlandizi and eventually arrived in Dar - the whole trip being less than 100 miles but taking 4.5 hrs.  THE END.