Local Transportation

If I haven't said it before, I live about 10 blocks from the start of the market, which is also the "center of town." The post office is probably the same distance to my house as the start of the market, though down a few different streets. The garage is maybe twice as far as the market. Most of the streets in Bambey are sand/dirt but there are a few streets that once were paved and now are worse than even the worst Chicago potholes. Asphalt seems to be just a fading memory for some of these streets... like the one in front of my house.

I always walk to wherever I'm going because the walk is never unmanageable. Getting back is another story entirely. If I'm a lucky volunteer and I have packages at the post office or, like today, a lot of purchases in the market (I'm buying things for the camp), I need a little help getting back. The distance is never the problem, it's more an issue of weight or bulkiness. Though I'm mastering carrying things on my head, sometimes it's too much or too awkward. When walking isn't an option, I turn to a charette. A charette is a "horse cart"... or in reality, a piece of wood with two weeks, attached to a horse or donkey. They aren't the most secure things in the world but they make due.

Sometimes, when other people are on charettes, the horses are healthy and going at a nice pace. I am never on those charettes. The other day the donkey looked like it was actually going to die while pulling myself and my awesome packages home from the post office. A few weeks ago, I had a driver cross the train tracks, diagonally, at as much speed as he could get his emaciated horse to manage. When Alyssa came to visit we had an 8 year old for a charette driver... I'm generally not very lucky at getting charettes. Today was no different:

I had just bought a ton of things for the camp and needed to find a charette. It was raining so the roads were flooding and there was mud everywhere. Luckily my new friend (the shop keeper who I had probably just doubled her monthly income) stopped a cart and I negotiated the price, loaded on my belongings, and climbed on. Then the cart took off. Literally, took off as if we were racing someone. The driver was making the horse go at death defying speeds (probably slower than 10mph but through muddy roads on a barely balancing 2x4 was HORRIFYING). We turned out of the market and hit my street in all of its pothole-y glory.

"This is a bad road," the driver said to me as I clung to life... I pointed out the well worn in charette tracks in the dirt NEXT to the "bad road" and the switched. After a few near hit-and-runs with pedestrians, we arrived at my house. I jumped off, paid, and ran inside. I just know I will never complain again about an American cab driver's driving...

ba suba,
KO