by John Yoo
Sometimes weird things happen in Goma. They almost seem to us like dream sequences.
I don't know what it's like on the moon, but the streets in Goma definitely have crater-sized pot-holes. Lava rock everywhere. My Toyota Camry back at home wouldn't survive a day here. We ride in a bus. Pascal is our driver. We mostly see motorcycles and other buses on the streets...if you can call them streets. From time to time we see a tractor convoy.
Wednesday's ride back to Maji (where we stay) was ... eventful. At first I thought we were dragging a big rock. Then I heard John Ludden say, "yeah, that's our tire rolling ahead of us." Final Diagnosis: Left Rear Tire. Completely torn off the axle. There we stood on the side of the road - ready to walk the rest of the way home. And then all of a sudden, Joseph Ciza was standing among us. It seemed that he had beamed in out of nowhere. In reality, he was riding on a "moto", saw us stranded, and stopped to see if we were ok.
This was one of our many speechless moments.
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