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Daladala crews torment their passengers
2007-05-23 09:02:12
By Guardian Reporter
`Here, take this and call anyone you want; but this bus is going no where,`fumed the bus conductor with rage. As if that was not enough he told the driver to get out of the city commuter bus -- daladala.
The latter complied as if he had been employed by the conductor.
The passengers, would be passengers so to speak,, complained. Others pleaded with the conductor to let the bus go but he would not budge.
A few people got out of the bus. Some remained glued to their seats hoping that the boy ( for that is what the conductor was,) would change his mind and allow the driver to take us to Ubungo or wherever he would decide, along the Buguruni - Mwenge road.
It was a bad day that Saturday. What with the heavy rain that had only compounded the problem which we have now learned to put up with, traffic jam.
This is part of life of the city dwellers, motorists and pedestrians alike.
We had been here for hours, standing at this bus stop in Buguruni where buses from Buguruni and Tazara stop to drop and pick passengers to as far as Mwenge.
Some of the buses usually end their trips at Ubungo while others start their return journey at Mwenge.
But today it was difficult to tell which bus went to want destination as the bus crew decided to create their own schedules, ending their trips wherever they wanted.
Yes, we had been there for close to two hours. Not that there were no buses going our way; there were a number of them.
But only those who were physically strong could manage to board them.
First one had t run fast enough to reach the buses which usually stopped a good distance away from the crowds.
Then a struggle to enter the bus followed , which involved jostling, elbowing and squeezing so that by the time one managed to get onto the bus and, if they were strong enough, to secure a seat, they were completely exhausted.
A score of people, including myself could not get involved in the game.
For one thing we were not prepared to undergo the physical torture but for another we were afraid we might lose the few shillings we had in our pockets.
The hustle and bustle was a God sent employment opportunity for vibaka.
An empty daladala came and stopped a few metres away from us.
A thick crowd moved in its direction and in no time it was packed.
The driver sped off. Another one came and the same procedure was replayed.
We stood there like spectators of a sumo wrestling match, dreading at what would happen if we took part in it.
Minutes ticked off into an hour and another. My legs started aching.
But I restrained myself from diving into the next daladala, for that is actually what one had to do.
Just struggle to step on the door and you would find yourself in, minus your wallet.
There were a few complaints in that direction already.
At last salvation came in the guise of an empty daladala that stopped right in front of us. The inscription on its front read that it usually serves the Tazara - Mwenge route.
So we boarded in with some degree of struggling and made ourselves comfortable on the torn, hard seats.
`Sasa wasituletee ujinga, hili basi mpaka Mwenge, la sivyo polisi, the bus must go all the way to Mwenge, no short cuts or we call the police,` said a passenger behind me, not knowing that the conductor was within earshot.
Or he might have known but had wanted to send the message loud and clear.
His speech had invoked the devil himself and trouble started.
That is when the conductor thrust his phone on the face of the passenger , almost gorging out his eyes.
That is when the conductor ordered the driver to get out of the daladala to which the latter complied.
That was when I in inwardly cursed the man who had brought the wrath of the conductor by saying what he had said.
There we were, at least not back to square one, for we were now seated in the bus and if we were good enough at pleading, the crew might change their mind. But were not a foot nearer our destinations.
`Forgive him, he wasn`t really serious about reporting to the police, you know some people are just like that … a lot of talk that is not serious,` pleaded a woman passengers.
But the message fell on deaf ears as the conductor didn`t even respond.
Another woman urged the conductor to be reasonable and not punish the rest of the passengers for a folly committed by one person.
Women are usually good at pleading and bargaining, yet today it was different.
`No, you are an ungrateful lot. If we don’t bring the bus you complain and when we bring it you threaten us with the police.
We are only doing this job to help you, do you think we need your money?` the conductor lectured us.
And while the arguments and pleading was going on, I asked myself who really runs the show between the conductor and the driver.
I always thought that drivers should have a commanding voice over conductors but I was proved wrong that day.
No wonder daladala drivers work like robots as they merely sit at the steering wheel and get instructions from the conductors even when what they are told to do is against the law.
Another thing, why are the daladala crew not afraid of the police? Of course it has nothing to do with their being law-abiding citizens.
The way they treat the traffic police in particular, one would think they are their employees.
That kind of relationship is not anywhere in the other East African countries.
I don’t know for how long we were there but eventually we left.
Another daladala rescued us. It all looked like fiction but that is what happened. The `new` daladala that stopped ahead of ours was empty .
The crowds had thinned and some of those who were in our bus jumped into the new arrival with ease.
One of them was the man who had started the fracas and infuriated the conductor and his driver.
As soon as he was out of the bus the conductor closed the door quickly and told the driver,`twende yule mwanagu keshaondoka, drive off the witch has gone.`
The bus sped off. As we bumped our way in the direction of Mwenge, the passengers started an impromptu discussion on the problems created by daladalas.
`They say touts are a problem; I don`t agree to that. Look, we spent a good half an hour sitting in the bus because of the conductor and his driver. There was no tout there,` agued one passenger.
He said that even when it comes to the problem of the buses not reaching their destinations, the crew were to blame. Touts were not involved in any way.
Some passengers agreed with him but only in as far as touts not being the cause of traffic jams.
`But don`t forget that touts are thieves and they harass passengers,` pointed out another passenger.
The discussion went on, moving from irresponsible daladala derivers who stop in the middle of the roads to drop or pick up passengers to failure by municipal councils to conduct spot repairs on the major roads.
I was too tired to follow up the discussions let alone contribute some ideas.
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