I Survived a Toilet‑less Bus Ride in Africa—and I’d do it Again

Have you ever survived a situation so chaotic, uncomfortable, and downright messy that you swore you’d never do it again—only to realize later it was the absolute highlight of your trip? I’m not talking about anything life-threatening, but the kind of exhausting adventure that leaves you asking, “Why did I agree to this?” For me, that unforgettable experience was a grueling, 12-hour, toilet-less bus ride from Arusha to Mwanza in Tanzania.

At the end of 2023, I had the incredible opportunity to travel to Tanzania as part of a study abroad program for my school and to do mission work. It was my last quarter at school, so after that, I would be done. Part of me was sad that I was going to miss my last semester at school, but my excitement about getting to travel to Africa for the first time and see how life is on the other side of the world overshadowed any feelings of sadness.

I have so many good memories from this trip, but one of the most memorable was a 12-hour bus ride. My now-husband was also on this trip, and we decided to explore more of Tanzania while we were there. We had spent the first couple of months just confined to the school premises (I was staying in a separate apartment outside of the school), so we were eager to see what Tanzania had to offer. We had made some really good friends during our time at the school, so we decided to visit a few of them at their homes. They all came from different provinces in Tanzania, and some even came from neighboring countries like Kenya. Marco became one of our closest friends in school. He lived in another province called Mwanza, about a 12-hour drive from the school. As you can imagine, even though we had traveled all the way to Tanzania, we were still broke college kids, so we were always looking for ways to save money. We had heard that Marco had gone back home by bus, which was probably the cheapest option, so we decided to do the same. We asked Marco which bus we needed to take, and soon we had our tickets secured (to my surprise, we were able to book these online).

School ended, and it was time to go to Mwanza. We were a little nervous, but so excited. This was going to be a real adventure, traveling just like the locals—how cool is that?! The bus left very early in the morning, and the bus station was about a 30-minute drive from where we were staying, so one of the instructors was kind enough to give us a ride. The bus itself wasn’t too bad, in my opinion. It was pretty similar to the buses we travel on in Panama. The only problem was that it was a long ride and there weren’t any toilets on the bus (honestly, probably for the best). In addition, they had loud, ‘interesting’ music playing throughout the trip.

As we waited for the bus to depart, I saw one of the guys sitting across from us throw up. I felt so sorry for him because it spewed all over himself. I wished there was a way to help him, but he seemed to just go with it. I’m pretty sure he just traveled the whole way like that. Finally, it was time to leave, and we were so excited that we were actually traveling by bus in Tanzania!

You know what happens when you travel long distances: you eventually have to pee, and I really needed to go. I’m usually the one to hold it until the end, but I couldn’t hold it any longer. I went to the front of the bus and asked the bus driver if we could please stop to use the restroom. I assumed he understood me, but honestly, I wasn’t sure, so I was just praying they would stop eventually. Soon after, they announced that we were stopping for the restroom (I just guessed because they were speaking Swahili). I was so relieved.

When we approached the place, it was an interesting sight, to say the least. There were buses and people everywhere. We only had a few minutes, so I had to be fast. On top of that, I had to bring my heavy backpack with me because I couldn’t leave it on the bus unattended with all my valuables.

To say that using the restroom at this place was a challenge is an understatement. First, I paid the bathroom fee (super sketchy, but it didn’t look like they were going to let me pass without paying, so I did), then I stood in a very messy “line” waiting for my turn to use the restroom. I honestly felt like I was in the middle of a mob. It was loud, disorganized, and it was definitely a “stand your ground if you really need to use the restroom” situation. And I really needed to use it. So, my Latina face went into action. Girls were just pushing past me to use the few restrooms available, disregarding the “line.” The bus wasn’t waiting for me, so with all the courage from my Latina ancestors that I could muster, I locked my face to let them know I wasn’t going to let anyone else cut in front of me, and I walked straight into the restroom. Part of me was so proud of myself for standing my ground, and part of me was scared to death that I would have girls ready to fight me when I came out.

We shall not talk about the bathroom conditions, but let’s just say, I can face any bathroom situation you throw at me at this point. Nothing will faze me, believe me. But I really had to go, so I did my business as fast as I could while holding my backpack (no hooks in case you were wondering… and no, the floor was not an option). Then I headed out with my head held high. I had conquered.

As I approached the bus, officers were checking passengers’ papers, so I had to show them my passport. I got on the bus, relieved that I had made it in time. Gabe was already there. After that stop, we had another stop where the bathrooms were slightly better (no mob situation, at least). After 12 or so hours, we finally made it to Mwanza. Stepping out of that bus felt like such a relief. Like we had just survived the apocalypse. Our bodies were hurting, we were hungry and tired. But we made it, and that was all that mattered. Our friend Marco was waiting for us at the bus station, and we were so happy to see him.

I might not have done the best job at conveying how traumatic this bus ride felt at the beginning, but it really felt that way for us. I have taken lots of long-distance buses in Panama, but none felt like this one. I even once traveled all the way from Panama City, Panama, to San Jose, Costa Rica (a whole day of travel in very tight quarters), but it was nowhere near this. Maybe it was because we weren’t familiar with bus rides in Tanzania, maybe it was because no one spoke English and we felt very out of place, maybe it was because we were sitting on a bus for 12+ hours and our whole bodies hurt afterwards, or maybe it was because going to pee felt like the Hunger Games.

The funny thing about all this is that if you asked whether I would change anything if I could go back and do things differently, I would tell you no. I would do the exact same thing all over. Why? Why put myself through all of that when we could’ve rented a car or maybe even flown there? Because it’s all about the journey, and in this case, the destination too.

Had we not taken that very long bus ride, I would not have had one of the most memorable experiences of my life. Had we not taken that bus, I would not have been able to tell you how hard it is for ordinary people in Tanzania to travel from one place to another. I would never have learned how one of my dearest friends in Tanzania gets to school every time he has to go home and come back. I would not be able to relate to him at all. Had we not taken that bus, I would not have gotten to know the great character of Augustine, the teacher who gave us a ride to the bus station, and on the way back. Had we not taken that bus, we would not have been able to see some of the most beautiful scenery and nature on the way to Mwanza. If we had not taken that bus, we might not have been able to visit Marco in Mwanza, get to know his family, and have one of the best meals at his home. And of course, if we had not taken that bus, I would not have the confidence to face anything to go potty😆

I know life can get hard sometimes, but it can also get pretty easy and comfortable. We usually take the easiest path, but growth is outside of our comfort zone. So, try it. Do that thing you’ve been putting off because it seems so hard. Take that crazy ride—you might find something amazing on the other side.

Our friend Marco the day we arrived at Mwanza.