Riding the Bus

Riding the bus here has been a sometimes confusing, strange, and hilarious endeavor. To get to and from work, we generally drive the truck (“the Mazda van with the open tray”) down the hill to the Waqa’s, park the truck and drop Jasper off, then catch whatever transportation comes along into town. I say whatever transportation, because it’s generally not a bus. The first day I decided to take the bus, I was riding in by myself because Miles’ ankle was still healing and he hadn’t started working at the store yet. Now, there is no office or visible oversight that runs the bus system, someplace you can get a bus pass or ask for a schedule. There are no written bus schedules. People just know when the busses run. There are also virtually no bus stops (I think I’ve seen two).

So that first day, I decided to walk down to the only bus stop around and just wait until a bus came along. I was encouraged to see people standing at the corner. Of course, I thought it was a bit strange that they were standing at the corner, instead of at the actual bus stop 50 feet away, but there were people waiting, which was a good sign. I asked one of the women there if she was waiting for the bus (she was) and if she knew what time it came. She said 10. I waited a minute, then looked at my phone to check the time. 9:10. What?! These people were waiting in the hot sun a whole hour before the bus came? I wasn’t wearing any sun block and didn’t have any with me, and the sun was already scorching hot. After about five minutes of fretting about sunburn, a truck with a canopy on the back drove up and stopped. One of the women jumped in the back of the cab like she knew the people. Then the woman in the passenger seat nodded at me. I looked around at the other two ladies and some men standing around waiting, then back at the woman in the truck with a questioning look. She nodded at me again, and I decided to jump in. I wasn’t going to miss a ride and have a nasty sunburn to show for it. I got in and the truck sped away. No one said a word. I really, really hoped they were going to town and not some other random place. Sure enough, the truck went to town, pulled over, and everyone got out. I saw the other two women give the driver some money, so I followed suit.

The next day, I went out to the same corner. This time, no one was waiting. So I stood there by myself, and after less than ten minutes, an empty taxi stopped. I didn’t wait for the nod, I just jumped right in. And that’s pretty much how it’s been most mornings. Just walk down the road, and eventually someone will pick you up. Usually it will be a taxi or “carrier” (the trucks with the covered bed; people sit in the back too), but we’ve also gotten free rides from the police and from a tow truck. I think the longest I’ve waited is 15 minutes, though Miles says one of the days he went without me he had to wait half an hour. And on one day out of the last two months, the first thing that went by was the bus.

Now in the afternoons, we almost always ride the bus. The bus costs 70 cents (which is also what a “return” ride into town costs), but a taxi home costs $3.50 (or so we’ve been told, we’ve never actually taken one). The buses leave from the bus station at roughly the same time every day, so we can plan when we leave the store. And I have to say that riding the bus is often one of the highlights of my day.
Things just happen on the bus. One day, the bus was still in town when a woman pulled the stop cord. The driver stopped, but nothing happened. He turned around, not looking surprised or annoyed, just neutral, and the woman who had pulled the cord pointed across the street and said, “My sister, my sister. She’s coming.” So the sister made her way across the street, had a short conversation with the woman on the bus, and then the woman on the bus passed her maybe three year old daughter to her sister through the window (there is no glass, the windows are just open holes). Another time, the bus stopped by the gas station and the guy getting off told the driver he just needed to get some gas really quick, so the driver just waited for him to get his gas and get back on the bus. And then there was the time that the bus stopped in the middle of nowhere, and in the distance I saw a girl walking toward the bus. I thought maybe she wanted to get on the bus, but she was walking really slowly for that. Eventually she made it to the bus and handed the driver what I’m assuming was his lunch through the window. He said thanks and we drove off. Riding the bus is never dull, that’s for sure. And then there’s the feeling of careening out of control as it takes sharp curves going downhill… yep, never dull.