DALOAxx..x Amanda, Debbie and I got an early taxi to the bus station. The driver asked us if we had our tickets yet. It had never occurred to us to buy early. We'd been in Liberia too long. The four buses going to Abidjan were all full. We tried another company and got our seats right away.

Our bus was the nicest mode of transportation I'd seen in West Africa. We were so impressed that it had individual seats, cassette music, a television / video system, and a working time schedule. I still didn't have much legroom, but I managed to doze.

It all happened so fast and I wasn't sure what actually happened. I never would know.x I had my knees propped up and slid down in the seat. All was comfortable. Suddenly, for some unknown reason, we were thrown about. I remembered a shower of glass and liquid, a pause, another shower of glass and liquid, and loud noise as the bus plunged over a rail, down a steep hill, and into some trees for a crashing halt. The next thing I remembered was Amanda screaming, "Am I bleeding?!!!"

It's a rather long story. When it was all over, it was Debbie's French and Amanda's notes that rescued us when we reached Daloa. We hooked up with the Catholic mission. They didn't usually take in any tourists, but they would help bus wreck victims. We ate, rested, and prayed that we would safely arrive in Abidjan the next day.