The Bajaj
In my last post, I already briefly described a bajaj
(pronounced buh-jaj). It’s little
more than a three-wheeled vespa with a roof over it, and there are thousands of
these in Dar.
One of the few pet peeves of being a foreigner in this town
is that people do not expect you to
be on foot. Wait a minute, the bajaj
or taxi driver is thinking, that white
man is (gasp) walking along the road. Certainly the man must need a ride. Time
to honk my horn. Beautiful women get their fair share of honks from
vehicles (as they do in many societies), but their quantity still dwarfs when
compared to the foreigner walking on foot. Sometimes you literally feel like a
walking dollar bill, although I am sure most locals would love to have that
problem here. I can take a quick walk down to the Farmer’s Market, and there are
so many horns honking, you would think Tanzania has just won the World Cup.
Although I have already taken a taxi, my preferred method of
transportation is the bajaj. The bajaj is quick, easy, and relatively cheap.
Besides, it’s a convenient place to observe the city from. But Lord, those
things are deceptively quick…and scary for the passenger who pays too much
attention, or expects a limo ride.
That said, before embarking on such a ride, make sure you
know how to bargain. That’s always been one of my favorite rituals in certain
countries, bargaining over items and services that have no fixed price. I don’t
mind the bargaining part per se. I
understand and respect how merchants and people in the service sector will try
to get the best terms so they can go home to their families with their heads
held high at the end of the day. What I can’t stand, though, is how people
sometimes seem to spot a pinwheel hat on my head marked idiot foreigner. That gets a little tiresome after a while.
Luckily, I am still in pretty decent shape, so I am not afraid to walk away
from anybody and their blue sky requests whenever I know I am being ripped off.
I still have two functioning feet and will use them if the price isn’t right.
Anybody remember the high speed chase on air motorcycles
through dense woods in Return of the Jedi?
How Carrie Fisher and Mark Hammil roar through the forest at brain numbing
speeds in hot pursuit of the scouts? Now substitute the forest of trees with a
forest of human beings and assorted other vehicles, and that’s a bajaj ride in
Dar. There will be many times when you will be thinking, OH MY GOD, HE’S GOING
TO RUN OVER THAT WOMAN, THE PRESS IS GOING TO BLAME THE FOREIGNER, AND THEY
WILL WATCH ME BURN IN THE STREET LIKE SOME PROTESTING BUDDHA MONK. The bajaj
drivers can hit the tightest spots, will drive over and through a ditch whenever it suits them, and could park their vehicles
in little plastic water bottles, I am convinced by now. Have you heard the term
‘thread the needle’? Most of these guys must have been tailors in their former
lives.
Of course, riding in a bajaj is not without risks. There is
no safety belt. These things, mostly owing to the drivers, have higher rollover
rates than the biggest SUV’s. There is the traffic in Dar to contend with as
well, not to mention thousands of
others bajaj riders trying to make a living. It’s a bajaj eat bajaj world out
there.
My kids are more immune to any of these dangers and already
love riding in them. Their parents’ arms wrapped around them is seatbelt enough
for them. By now, Bash must come to terms with the fact that most car models he
so easily made out back in the States have disappeared. Time to start anew.
Maybe it’s not such a bad thing that I don’t have a vehicle
yet. This is my way to gauge the traffic and what it’s like here in Dar before
joining the madness myself.
I wonder if someone would sell their Bajaj.
I wonder if someone would sell their Bajaj.
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