stories, from africa: The Flat

I have a collection of post ideas....there's been so much other writing in my life, it's gotten a bit hard to keep up. And then of course, after awhile, the idea begins to seem commonplace. This weekend I was faced with that new American energy of a visitor who arrived fresh from the US. I was reminded of how un-common place many of my ideas are. So easy to forget after all these years..... so here is the story of a flat tire. I know, a flat tire? you're thinking....but wait-

We were on our way to school, an unexpected ride with our upstairs neighbor. Usually she rides her bike and we walk, but on Tuesdays she gives us a lift with my drum set. I have joined her drum circle after school and it's a nice way to be with some colleagues. This may have been a Tuesday or just another random day when she was taking the car and invited us along.

We spent a little time in search of a working ATM- in Bamako this can occasionally mean visiting 5 or more machines before finding one that has an internet connection and enough cash to complete a transaction. We were finally on our way back to school when the car began the telltale rumbling and thumping of a flat.

My neighbor was pushing it to a close service station- a little too fast, I felt and I recommended perhaps we should slow down. I have always had that dread of a flat exploding, or the wheel coming off altogether. She slowed, pulled over a bit and eventually we made it to the shop. Shop might be a big word. It was actually a roadside stall. The young guy had just arrived by bike and jumped right in to repairing. He didn't say much, didn't ask any questions, just went about the job.

It began the way any normal flat tire repair would- finding a jack, loosening the lugs and removing the tire. I had gone through this process in Abidjan once, intending also to write a post about it. Not sure I ever did but I might still have the picture of the bathtub they soaked the tire in. It is often done in buckets or large tubs but this place had a bonafide bathtub.

Our Bamako tire stop didn't have the tub, but there were a bunch of other tire repair oddities around. He continued his inspection of the tire- it was easy to find the huge screw that had penetrated the rubber. I was kind of in awe of the size. And completely unable to imagine how it had gotten stuck in the tire, having a rather broad, flat end on it. He pulled out the offending metal, removed the tire from the rim and then things got weird.

There was a huge hole in the tire. Finger width at least. He pulled out some sandpaper and began to sand some parts of the inside. I could see another hole forming. The tire was clearly old and more in need of retirement than repair. Apparently these had been "new" occasion (used) tires that had just been put on the car.

After sanding things out (tires and sanding don't seem to be words that should be used together) he began mixing. The strong smell of burning tar permeated the morning air. He was mixing a glue to patch the tire with. I considered how many other tires were repaired in this way, riding down the road, another cause of the high rate of traffic accidents became clearer. He never asked if we wanted a new tire, or at least to replace this tire. He just glued it up, put it back on and sent us on our way.

This repair job cost 1000FCFA, and that was with a generous tip thrown in. I think the price he quoted was about 350FCFA (less than $1.) Oh Africa. The ingenuity is amazing, the price of poverty appalling.