adventures on transport

Since cars are few and far between in Swaziland the main forms of transportation are either bus or khumbi (a sort of van-taxi). The bus system isn't particularly organized and it is not unheard of for buses to simply not come at all. However, there are frequent arrivals and departurs so there's almost always another bus. Almost.
Yesterday I needed some groceries so I rose early to catch the 7 am bus to Nhlangano. It never came. No fear, there's an 8:30. The only problem is the 7 am bus turns around and becomes the 1:30 bus home. The 8:30 has a much quicker turn-around time and leaves town at 12 (it gets there at 11). Since an hour is not quite enough time for groceries, and lunch, and internet, and ice cream, I needed an alternate route home.
My host parents gave me detailed directions. Take the Manzini bus to Salem, get off there, and wait for the Izigi bus to take me home. It comes at 2 and 4. Simple, right? I got to Salem at 3 just in case a bus arrived early (no really, it does happen every now and again). Izigi drove by at 4:30. . . and didn't stop. Shit. Ok, I'll wait for Jika ma Jika. It doesn't go to my community, but it gets close, and I can walk. Jika's not running today. Hmmmm. . . .
Thanks to an army of good samaritans (Swazis are some of the most helpful people on Earth) I board another bus heading in the general direction of home, hoping that if I can at least get closer, someone from my village will drive by and give me a ride. Not very reassuring, but at this point, it's my best bet.
This bus is crowded so I'm standing, smooshed in w/ 5 of my new closest friends. A slightly intoxicated old man tries to cop a feel, and the cop standing next to me (off-duty) slaps him for me. It's getting dark and I'm starting to think that this is a stupid idea. Just as I'm about to call the Peace Corps office to come rescue me, my phone rings.
"Hi Beth, where exactly are you going?" Huh? Who is this, and how do you know I'm lost? It turns out to be Alexis, a Group 5 volunteer who is sitting in the back of the bus. I explain the situation, and she informs me that my chances are slim to none of getting home on time. Graciously, she offers to let me crash at her place. It was a fabulous evening of wine and popcorn.

This morning I managed to hop a khumbi from Alexis's back to Nhlangano, where I now sit writing this. The moral of the story: Thank goodness for Group 5, and I miss driving.