Dala-dalas are a means of getting around in Dodoma.  They resemble the old VW vans, slightly top heavy.  One hops on when it seems impossible to squeeze one more body into the contraption.  Oh, I must mention they are falling apart and are unquestionably unsafe ~ but when in Africa, do as the Africans do.  Tom is so tall that he was bent over in a V formation & still knocked his noggin 3 times.  Jessie hung on to me as she had a grip on a window or seat ~ I’m not sure which.  When the bus stopped I nearly landed in a man’s lap.  We were going into town to buy a few groceries and paper for art class.  Tom made the decision that we would take a cab back.  Get the  picture: we are jammed in a dala-dala hip to hip, toe to toe, shoulder to shoulder and we are on rutted, dirt roads.  Jessie asked Tom how many 78 year olds he knew could do this.  I won’t use his expletive, but it began with H and he said:  H____, we’re all old and we made it.   Kate Mato who has taught here for years (from New Zealand) said she road one once and that was enough.  We’ll look for a picture.  Lots of love, Tally

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