Yesu, Asante! ('Thank you Jesus!')

I almost died in Zanzibar. Perhaps that's a bit dramatic, but I'm telling you, I would skydive naked a thousand times before reliving this particular experience.

The dala dalas on the island are a little different to the minivans in Arusha. Similar to those in Koh Samui, or Bali (so I have heard) they are converted pickup trucks, with bench seats running along either side of the tray, with a tin canopy.

Dala dalas are inherently dangerous, overcrowded and fast. Every journey is a risk ('volenti non fit injuria' for all you law nerds out there!!).

A short distance outside of Stone Town, about a sixth of the way into our journey back to our beach bungalow, the dala dala stopped by the side of the road to collect an additional passenger. I queried how on earth the driver possibly expected to cram another body onto the already overcrowded pickup, when I spied the passenger's cargo.

As the main source of transport, the passengers generally load all their worldly possessions onto the truck. Our new passenger wanted to take some bricks. Large concrete bessabricks. After loading about 5 bricks onto the truck, I looked over to see Julie looking skeptically at the thin tin ceiling. 20 minutes later, while the dala dala was rocking dangerously in the direction of the ditch on which it was perched, and with the tin ceiling dipping increasingly lower under the weight of the bricks, I wasn't sure whether the 'thump, thump, thump' was my heart, or the bricks that were STILL being loaded. Mama Ju was white-knuckled. I told her I wanted to get off. I said that as soon as the dala dala took off it would roll into the ditch and we would die.

Julie and I were squished in as far back from the entrance of the dala dala as it was possible to get - so in the event that the truck rolled, there was no way out. One of the boys from Mustapha's place (Julie's loverboy Dula actually!), who happened to be on the same dala dala as us, told us to just wait. 'Subiri, subiri'. I said 'NO SUBIRI. I don't want to die, it's gonna ROLLLLLLL!' and then frantically scrambled over bodies and possessions to get off the blasted truck (in the process, staying as far to one side as possible so as not to be the straw that broke the camel's back and roll the dala dala into oblivion myself). A few seconds later, Julie also emerged from the truck. Followed by Dula, who clearly thought that the stupid mzungus needed supervision!!

The dala dala situation was even worse than I thought. The bricks were piled about 1.5metres high, and covered the entire roof of the dala dala. The dala dala was visibly rocking. I swear the bricks would have weighed more than the truck itself. I could see NO POSSIBLE WAY that it could take off without rolling and killing everyone. I prayed that the people left on the dala dala would see sense and get off, or that the dala dala driver would see sense and remove the bricks.

We walked a short distance in the direction of the next bus stop, until Dula flagged down a mate who was passing by, who said he could drop us at the bus stop. I turned back towards the dala and was grateful to see half the busload of people getting out. Not only was I pleased for them, but it also validated my little panicked scramble out of the vehicle!!!!

I have seen refrigerators piled onto the top. I can live with refrigerators. I have shared a dala dala with chickens. Chickens? Piece of cake. Even large bundles of firewood I can handle. Concrete bessabricks on the other hand, I am NOT okay with.

We waited at the next bus stop for over an hour, and never saw the dala dala pass by. I could only pray that it was because the police stopped it before harm came to anyone, and not because it had already met a horrible fate. At that time of afternoon, all the dala dalas from town were full and had no room for us. Mustapha's place had no available drivers to collect us, so after our near death ordeal, our trip home took us a further 3 hours, with a combination of walking and hitching (with Dula's help). We arrived back just after dark, bought Dula a beer for taking us under his wing, and toasted ourselves a long life, free of bessabricks!

The following day we were walking along the beach and were greeted by two men, who said that they were on the same dala dala the day before. They told us that most of the passengers disembarked in terror (probably not helped by the strange muzungu making wild gestures of the dala dala rolling and killing everyone!!), and the dala dala eventually took off, WITH the bricks, and without rolling.

Yesu, ASANTE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!