tered children in the past forty years years, the title of this post pays homage to one of the great works of children’s literature, Richard Scarry’s Cars and Trucks and Things that Go. I read the book hundreds of times with my brother when I was growing up, and I have read the book at least as many times with my own children. The frenetic action of the book, along with the pleasure of finding where the character Gold Bug is hidden on each page, never wanes. So much is happening! There are so many different ways to get around! Bicycles! Double-decker buses! Pickle cars! Hammer trucks! And the hazards in the road are equally prominent. Watch out for the oranges spilled all over the road! Watch out for the nails!
Much as I love this book, it had never occurred to me that the world of Cars and Trucks and Things that Go might offer a representational view of any real-world setting. . .until Zanzibar.
The modes of trans-
portation here are among the first things that struck me—literally—in the first week that we arrived, when I was bumped into by a car on the road (a not-so-subtle reminder to mind my status as a pedestrian and to keep my feet on the dust rather than on the pavement). There is a distinctly Darwinian philosophy of traffic safety here, and we learned quickly to be survivors, pedestrians though we are. On the narrow streets of Stone Town, the adept pedestrian knows to listen for pikipiki (moped) motors in the near vicinity, as well as for the bicycle bells and the kissing sound that is the equivalent of saying “beep beep.” Watch out!
portation here are among the first things that struck me—literally—in the first week that we arrived, when I was bumped into by a car on the road (a not-so-subtle reminder to mind my status as a pedestrian and to keep my feet on the dust rather than on the pavement). There is a distinctly Darwinian philosophy of traffic safety here, and we learned quickly to be survivors, pedestrians though we are. On the narrow streets of Stone Town, the adept pedestrian knows to listen for pikipiki (moped) motors in the near vicinity, as well as for the bicycle bells and the kissing sound that is the equivalent of saying “beep beep.” Watch out!
Beyond Stone Town, out in the wider roads of Zanzibar, there are not only pedestrians, bicycles, and pikipikis, but also hand carts, donkey and ox carts, cars, trucks, presidential motorcades, trucks with AK-47-toting soliders, and dala-dalas. A gritty version of Richard Scarry’s world.
The vast majority of travelers on the road here make very efficient use of resources—out of necessity. Most wheeled vehicles have at least two passengers—including bicycles. During commute time, especially, it’s common to see a dad and three kids on a bicycle (two on the cross bar and one on the wheel guard) on their way to school. Or, later in the day, a dad and a mom and an infant on a motor scooter.
Given that my own children are still (at ages 8 and 10) skinny enough that they’re required in the United States to sit strapped into booster seats, it took some getting used to to see wee babes here on motor scooters—the lucky ones strapped into 1980s-era Baby Bjorns. And I’ve yet to see anyone wearing a bicycle helmet. The traffic police here are, like Richard Scarry’s Officer Flossie, unarmed and out in the open rather than in their own cars. I’ve not seen any speed limit signs anywhere, which is just as well, as the police could never catch up with a speed violator.
But, despite the extreme contrast with the American sense of trans-
portation safety, people here know the system and it mostly works, even if the traffic lights don’t.
portation safety, people here know the system and it mostly works, even if the traffic lights don’t.
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