Transportation

The public transportation in Malawi creates adventure.  Going anywhere within the city (and I use that word very loosely, since Blantyre seems more like a large town), one needs to use the 'minibuses' which are old minivans with sliding doors and three long seats in the back plus two individual front seats. When you enter through the sliding door, there is an aisle to slide down to get to the back two rows. However, since there are also two fold-down seats that fold into the aisle, entering and exiting a minibus can sometimes be an ordeal that involves several people getting out of the van in order for one person to get on or off. 

For each minibus, there is a driver and a money collector who sits in the back with the passengers and leans out the window while the van is in motion, shouting out the final destination, while the driver honks the horn in staccato bursts, trying to pick up more passengers. Along the route from its starting destination to its final destination, it will stop anywhere to pick up passengers. All one has to do is flag down the van. Thus, a ten-minute drive can turn into a twenty-minute ride on the minibus. Even better, a ten-minute drive can turn into an hour ride/walk because the minibus breaks down or runs out of gas or the driver decides not to go the way he said he was going and drops you off somewhere else.

Now, this may not seem too bad, but the inside of the minibus is the absolute opposite of luxury. First, there is a torn piece of cardboard or scrap of wood, with the destination hand-written on it, displayed in the windshield. As for the seats, usually the vinyl is ripped and there is metal poking out of some area. The windows are dusty and stick in the tracks when being slid open or closed. Most of the buses rattle when moving, spew plumes of dark smoke out their tailpipes, and struggle going uphill.

Add to that the usual practice of overloading, and the ride gets even more fun.  I think these minibuses are meant to safely transport around 13 to 14 people. Typically, there are more people than that packed into the minibus, sometimes making the number of passengers close to 20. Just like my first day in Tokyo when I thought there was no way another ten people could cram into the already packed train car, I first thought there was no way another passenger could squeeze onto a minibus here. But, somehow, one more person pushes his way into the van, causing people to squish up against the window or half sit on some stranger's lap, all while the ripe scents of body odor, unwashed skin, and onions waft through the stagnant air of the small enclosed space.

Now, when I am squished between a woman holding a baby with saucer-large eyes staring at me and a man with horrendous breath who is trying to chat me up and get my number, and the minibus stops for one more passenger, I know there is somehow always going to be space.

 

minibuses