Travelin' Whoa-man!

Standing on the side of the main road, I wave down a mini-bus and take a deep breath, knowing it's the last bit of fresh air I'll have for a while. As I board the crammed bus, I am immediately greeted with “marnin!'” from all of the passengers. I return the friendly gesture with a nod and a smile. After searching for a while, I manage to find a seat at the very back of the bus, and am forced to squeeze myself between what looks like a Guyanese Mr. Clean, and a young couple whispering sweet nothings into each others ears. I manage to cram myself in the tiny space made available to me, and immediately begin sweating profusely. There is no place in Guyana that is as hot as a mini-bus. It's like a sauna, steamy with human sweat. As I try to free my arm to fan myself, I realize the bus has turned around, and my hopes of reaching New Amsterdam in a timely manner quickly dissolve. We're driving the opposite direction, and I'm a little confused. I ask Mr. Clean if this bus is indeed headed over the bridge and he assures me that it is, we just have to pick up a few more people to fill the bus. From where I'm sitting, the bus seems packed-full. But in Guyana, there's always room for more!

We begin making the rounds, traveling around Rosignol at an alarming speed, until the driver slams on the breaks, and the conductor yells out the window to prospective passengers “Bridge! Bridge! Over da bridge gyal/bai?!?!”. The moment the passerby shakes their head, we speed up again, no time to waste here folks. The yelling continues and soon, some one nods their head in agreement. The bus begins to slow and the conductor throws the sliding door open and jumps out of the still-in-motion bus. He hurriedly ushers the passenger on. Everyone greets him with a “marnin'!” and we somehow manage to shift and re-arrange ourselves to make room for our new addition. Before the door is shut, the bus is in motion again. We repeat the lurching, screeching, yelling, nodding, ushering, greeting and sweating until the driver is satisfied with the number of passengers on the bus. He finally turns the bus around, and I'm relieved to see that we are headed in the right direction! I see the bridge approaching, and am encouraged by the fact that the driver is rushing straight toward it. He screeches to a halt to pay the toll, and within seconds, we're off!! The wind is blowing and the cool breeze from the river is welcomed by our drenched, balmy bodies.

After managing to make it across the river safely, we encounter our next, and most challenging adventure. The road is surrounded by open fields on either side. It's a beautiful view, and I never tire of it. But with open fields, come loads of unpredictable livestock. The road is filled with cows, donkeys, pigs and goats, or what I like to call a “Guyanese obstacle course”. Each animal poses it's own challenge to the driver, and we are forced to put all of our trust in him to maneuver safely around these creatures. Cows, although large and hazardous due their size, are the easiest animal to avoid colliding with. They move so slowly that they are easy to avoid. Pigs, the most intelligent of the bunch tend to stay away from large, quickly moving objects. Donkeys seem to be oblivious to everything that is going on around them, and tend to just stand there (they often choose the middle of the road to mate) and look at you as though you're disturbing them... what asses! It's the goats that are the real challenge. They move quickly and haphazardly. It's very hard to judge where they will go. Sometimes, after crossing the road to safety, they'll dart back in front of the bus, forcing the driver to slam on his brakes in order to avoid making goat-jerkey. I've never seen something so meticulously beautiful as a mini-bus driver steering his way through that chaos. It takes extreme concentration, serious skill and the ability to react at a moments notice with little room for error. Luckily, these men drive this route multiple times daily, and I have nothing but faith in their ability to get their passengers through safely.

Once we get through the obstacle course, we approach the next adventure. We slow at the corner to drop off some passengers and are immediately bombarded with the cutest little children you ever did see trying to sell plantain chips. They reach in through every opening in the windows and practically throw the chips in your lap. No one can understand a word they're saying because their Creolese is so thick. But everyone smiles and greats them affectionately. I've never seen a child work so hard for so little, all the while smiling and laughing. I often buy some chips to reward them for the hard work. Whoever convinced these children to sell the chips knew they'd make a fortune, tugging at the heart strings of every single passenger. When everyone is finished buying their snack, and the driver realizes the children are out of harm's way, we speed off, leaving the children in the dust.

We continue on down the last stretch of our adventure and we're home free. The remainder of the drive is calm and peaceful, and everyone seems to be filled with a sense of comradeship for making it through the adventure alive. We come to the bus stop, exit safely, pay, and thank the driver. I hand him my plantain chips as a token of my appreciation.

I take this drive at least twice a month and each bus ride is similar. It's like a roller-coaster at Disneyland, only no-one ever throws up, and there are rarely snap-shots of the silly faces we made during the scariest moments (which is good, because I bet Mr. Clean looked terrifying).

I've come to the realization that a trip on a Guyanese mini-bus is quite representative of my experience here as a whole: the journey may be fraught with fear and doubt, but if you accept the adventure of it all, and have faith in people, you will always reach your destination safely and happily. And looking back on it, you'll be glad you did it all, even if it was the sweatiest, craziest time of your life :)

Peace, love and mini-buses,
Annie