Driving as Culture Shock

Living in another place requires adjustment which doesn’t come without the experience of stress. High-speed driving in the U.S. is usually associated with the Interstate. In contrast, we live on the principal Malawian Highway, M-1. M-1 has two lanes, and usually narrow, considerably variable shoulders, with nothing but a very faded, dashed line “separating” you from the oncoming traffic. I drive M-1—on the left side of the road, with the steering wheel on the right of the car and shifting gears with my left hand—and I occasionally run or walk along it, so I’ve gotten a closer look than I want at times.

The shoulder along M-1 is defined with a yellow stripe, also quite faded. The shoulder may be as wide as a meter, or erosion may actually eat past the yellow stripe into the road-bed proper. The asphalt shoulder gives way to portions of gravelly clay undersurface which in turn transitions to the grass growing in the similar red clay of the surrounding soil. At times the transition from asphalt is very smooth, but even at entrances of dirt roads, it may present a four to six inch drop; at times it is up to 18 inches. At some points the deep indentations look like chunks of road bed have been taken by a giant “cookie monster”. This makes it difficult for pedestrians to walk beside the road or get off when the traffic is thick.

While M-1 is full of cars and trucks of all kinds, sizes and shapes, including double trailers with six axles on each, the motor-powered vehicle is not the principle means of Malawian transportation. There are many more pedestrians and bicycles than motorized vehicles on most sections of M-1. Pedestrians are usually aware, even wary, of the vehicular traffic, but occasionally they stumble home drunk as one young man I saw this evening. Some times children run toward the road, but I’ve never seen one actually on the surface who wasn’t carefully crossing and of an age to do so.

Bicycles present a bigger challenge with occasional cargo of grass bundles three meters long, one meter presenting on the highway side, or the man I saw today carrying about a dozen five gallon pails fashioned out of tin on the back of his bike; at least he was walking, using his bike as a cart. Mattresses, bamboo, goats and pigs, as well as people, get a lift on bikes, and these combinations present challenges coming down the edge of the highway. Today I saw a bike strapped crosswise on the luggage rack of another bike: a bicycle wrecker!

The most common means of long-distance transportation is the incredibly polyglot fleet of “mini-buses” that run the roads of Malawi. These 7 or 8 passenger vans which have been modified to optimally hold 12, but not uncommonly have 16-20 passengers, ply the roads, stopping suddenly to pick up or drop off passengers, re-entering the road with little warning, racing one another while fully loaded and occasionally resorting to blows to settle disputes with other drivers or passengers (they usually stop for this). Minibuses are crewed by a driver and a “conductor” who collects the fares and buys cans of gasoline while the driver recruits other passengers on the road side by the station.

Stress jumps a notch at 6:30 in the evening when it is already quite dark and many people are still working their way home, bright and errant lights shine in your face, and the ability to see and adjust for pedestrians or bicycles on the road is limited, and you struggle to time your approach to reach them when there is not an oncoming car preventing your “swinging wide”. The worst-case scenario finds bicycles on opposite sides of the road passing pedestrians while you meet a tobacco truck whose cargo is hanging over by about a meter on each side, and behind him is a mini-bus driver hanging over the center stripe looking for his opportunity to pass. At least the truck is driving slow, where a car wouldn’t be, so that either can make the heart race and surely raise the blood pressure as well. It really gets wild when the approaching driver has his high beams on, you reach down to flash your own lights, and find you’ve sprayed washer fluid all over your windshield!

Most modern autos on M-1 like to travel at 110 to 120 Km/hour. (70-75 mph), though the speed limit is 50 to a max of 80 (31-50 mph). The big trucks usually are well under limits by necessity, but that generates tremendous impatience in the lighter traffic and motivates risk-taking. Then there are the aged and decrepit. Saturday night as we returned home late, we saw a faint light in the distance rounding corners, going our way. As we quickly overtook it, a pick-up with no tail lights (we finally saw reflectors as we approached) putted along, its engine trying to keep up with its electrical system. The one front light was on the left and pointed toward the ditch; when on dim almost nothing of the road could be seen; when on bright you knew a car was there.

We drive no more than we have to (not having our own vehicle is a blessing in this) and we particularly avoid the hours just after dark. We absolutely refuse to be hurried on the road, and we take preventive measures to avoid the flying flak should others have accidents while taking risks around us. The most common cause of death for expatriates living in Africa is an auto accident, and we take care to not become a part of the numerator in those data sets. Pray that we may avoid the foolish and the temptation to become too condemning or bothered by others’ behavior on the road, that we may have eyes to see the obscure (go carrots!), and that we’ll never be perturbed by others’ impatience with us or their insistence that we get somewhere now. And as you enjoy your next drive down the interstate, send up a prayer for our safety on the road along with your own of thanksgiving.