Friday, May 9, 2008

No smoking, spitting, fighting, stealing or vomiting on the bus


This was the notice above the windows of a minibus which I took from Maga to Guirvidig on the latter’s market day. The bus only leaves when it is full, which means that an incredible number of people are packed in, and there are others on the top and also hanging out of the back (on the way back from the market there is all this plus all sorts of bulky objects bought at the market piled high on top). People sit facing each other in rows along the length of the bus and their knees are carefully interleaved with no room left to move in. A boy near me had a cock in his lap which tried frantically to escape every now and then. As we sat sweltering in the heat waiting for the bus to leave (this can take hours) somebody’s mobile played “Jingle Bells”.

I was at the front of the bus and could see into the cab (which contained three people in addition to the driver). The seat of the cab opened up to reveal the engine. Before starting, the driver connected some wires, put water in the radiator and sucked some liquid through a tube into his mouth, spat it out and syphoned the liquid into something else. After all that the battery barely turned the engine, which would not start, and then the guys hanging out of the back of the bus pushed it (fully loaded) until it started. The gear changes were incredibly jarring. I soon came to realise that the bus had absolutely no brakes and on one occasion a car blocked the way and for what seemed like an eternity the bus free-wheeled up to it and bumped into it. The driver didn’t even get out to see if there was any damage. We passed some police sitting under a tree and free-wheeled to a stop down the road from them. The driver gave some money to one of the guys hanging out of the back who ran back and gave it to them, presumably to avoid having his vehicle checked for road-worthiness. Most buses that I have been in since then have been equally bad and have had theirs radiators topped up every 15 kilometers or so. Broken down buses are regular sights, their passengers sitting patiently under a tree. I was on a bus recently which broke down over ten times between Maroua and Maga. Each time repairs were done with the help of bits of tubing, plastic bags, etc. To my relief the bus eventually made it to its destination, albeit many hours late.

The state of everything here is precarious. To-day I was in the local chief’s house and a young boy took out a bicycle. The chief asked him if it was road-worthy. The boy said “yes” but immediately the front wheel fell off and then the handlebars also fell off.

1 comment:

Ivo said...

haha, thats fantastic Tom! those bus breakdowns in poorer countries, i know them all too well. They are ok at first but the novelty wears off! I had a leatherman always with me - best thing i brought - which fixed many a breakdown - as they never thought to bring tools and just tried to use their hands, so they often had to wait for parts to cool down.

Great writing.

ivo