Survival of train wreck like train ride

The train didn't leave Kigoma till mid night. I was very anxious that afternoon before the train ride. My guts told me that it would be very difficult ride. The third class is general public coach, which means 16-18 hours of ride with a mob.
I was sitting in a cafe and prayed to calm myself down. It was a hot day in Kigoma. It was a very long and tiring day to just get the train ticket sorted out. What awaited ahead of me was a long and scary night. At 6:30 pm, I started to manifest the comfort of home, a nice and hot shower, a safe and comfortable bed and family and friends. I knew I will get there eventually. After the manifestation, I put myself together. I threw my backpack to my back. I marched to the train station. Courage keeps me moving.
Massive Africans were all over the train station, waiting for the train. I was the only foreigner that would take this type of transportation. They were lying on the grass. They were eating and waiting. I sat on the grass next to a family. For them it is the way of life. It might be their fist time to ride a train. It might be something exciting for them to look forward to.
Here came the train and the time to board. It was an absolutely riot. Everyone forced their way to get on the train. I joined the mob and fought my way through. I was pushed and my bag was pulled away. I shouted, pushed back and forced my way all the way to my seat. The train had exploded with over capacity crowds, people's shouts and screams. There were really no seats. People found room for their bags and themselves on the top of seats, beneath  tables and seats, in the isles, in the connectors between coaches or in the restrooms. They were anywhere! Room was so precious. I squeezed in my seat. The overhead luggage shelf and beneath seat were stuffed with luggage and people. I had to hold my backpack on my knees and a basket on top of the backpack. I was closely contacted with people above me and next me. I couldn't breathe and doubted if I would survive this ride. I did survive the long night. I was warned that I should keep my vigil on the train because theft could happen at any given second. It did happen and my basket was snatched away over a second of drowsiness. I didn't feel terribly sorry about the loss of my basket as I thought the few items in the basket might be well used by people who need them more than me.
The train made many stops. When it stopped at a station at 7:00 am in the morning, I was told that we were the half way to the destination. I knew I had survived the longest and toughest part of the trip. The chaos apparently didn't bother the local Africans. Some people started to make Chai in the coach. African mamas pulled out of their previously packed food and passed to their family for breakfast. They live in poverty and chaos. They always survive. They enjoy their life just as everyone else does.
I was suffering and counting down the time to the destination - Tabaro. Watching the local life on the train kept me away from my focus on " my suffering". Time slipped before I finally got out of the train in Tabaro.