“…yeah, the fuel tank…yep, I’m pretty sure...so I guess I’m just wondering what your recommendations might be? Uh huh, uh huh, yeah, right, without fuel I won’t be able to move the car so I’ll need a tow, and no power steering or breaks...I hadn’t thought of that but makes total sense…so, I’ll call Pat and get in touch with a mechanic to come and check it out and bring a towing vehicle/hook up…no, I think we’ll be fine, I’ll let you know if we need something.”
H: “…dwee dwee…dwee dwee…hey Pat it’s Heidi. I’m doin’ okay. So the thing is our fuel tank fell off.”
P: “crap.”
H: “yeah, so we need to get a tow so I’m calling to find out if you could send me a number for Hajj or any other mechanic in Town you might recommend who would be able to bring a tow.”
P: “wait, why do you need a tow?”
H: “because our fuel tank fell off…”
P: “your FUEL TANK FELL OFF?!?!?!”
H: “yeah, isn’t that what I said?”
P: “I thought you meant the propane tank fell off of the vehicle.”
H: “yeah, no, the fuel tank, the one I just spent 120,000 Shillings to fill up with diesel…”
Well, so I’ll try to keep the ramblings to a minimum, but in the flurry of text messages with numbers for mechanics and other folks that might have recommendations, my phone froze. Yep, nothin’ doin’…pressing buttons and nothing’s happening…like the spinning circle of death on a Mac but with no spinning circle or “force quit” option (Anna, the technological wizard later thought of taking the battery out…Genius!). Anyways, yet another reason it’s good we don’t travel alone. I switched to Anna’s phone and in the process of the mechanic being out of town, and waiting for Robert (the Bishop – who has a vehicle and lives near Town – his son) to make his way to where we were stopped to make his recommendations, John calls back and he’s on his way with Bihwa…said it felt like the right thing to do and did I mind. Heck no, come on, I just didn’t want to be a burden.
So, we wait. In the mean time, Vincent and Anna have gone down to the site of the fuel tank, found a few tubes/hoses that fell off with the tank, and patched up the filling hole and the empty hose with a pastic bag and pieces of banana fibers - there's nothin' like the cavela and banana fibers trick! As I stood with the vehicle, several men with various English speaking capabilities or lack thereof come up to offer their suggestions, and when I thanked them but indicated I had another plan they usually moved closer to my face and spoke louder hoping that maybe I just hadn’t heard them…why else wouldn’t a white woman follow their suggestions. I did end up following one of them in the end. The fear in the tank being down the road from the vehicle as it got dark was that since it was full of fuel, people would start to cut into the tank to siphon off the fuel inside. So in the end I paid a few guys to move the tank up the road to sit next to the vehicle.
And as we waited for Robert to arrive to get his recommendations for a mechanic a white truck with huge speakers booming with music on the back pulls up behind the Zoolander. The engine stays on, the music blaring, the campaign posters for Minister of Parliament Candidate Vivian Semoli plastered to the truck and speakers came into view in the fading light of dusk, and the doors open and close and the men inside start walked towards us. “Robert is here” Vincent said. And so was Semoli himself. A crowd drew to the Semoli party wagon’s side, dancing ensued, women trying to drag Anna into the action. Surprisingly she wasn’t really in a dancing mood…
Not sure if you can imagine the scene, but it was pretty unbelieveable, like out of a movie, or a crazy dream…fuel tank sitting on the ground next to the Zoolander with the Semoli party wagon with speakers booming parked next to us working in some campaigning action, Anna in her “we’re out of the district” jeans and a t-shirt both covered with dirt and grease from her mad mechanic skill demonstration, Heidi with curly hair going berzerk from under the dusty, sweaty bandana wrapped around her head, luckily a kikoy wrapped around her waist over the sweaty bottomed pants (er, I mean trousers) from a full day of travel on the vinyl seats…
Anyways, with the speakers booming, discussing the plans for mechanics and tows and jerry cans to empty the fuel into with Robert and Semoli became shouting matches that luckily I was laughing through most of the time…you just have to laugh, you know? Where the heck am I? Am I really on the side of a dusty road without a fuel tank and a campaign party going on behind me?! Anna and I just look at each other and shake our heads and laugh…no words could then or can now really quite describe the experience…
3 comments:
Astounding.
Oh Heidi, you have the most amazing adventures!!!!
I heard about this from Sarah! Wow. That's really rough. At least nobody died in a freak gasoline fight accident... You use diesel.
And one must remember the distinction between pants and trousers. I was taught this by a wise man on a rainy day. :-D
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