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windscreens and crucifixes They call them chicken buses in Guatemala. In fact I only ever once saw a sign of any chicken - the man concerned was carrying a cockerel under his arm and it remained perfectly quiet throughout the journey. When he reached his destination, however, he had a large sack of sugar to get down from the roof of the bus and needed both hands to do so. I was fascinated to see him remove the broad-brimmed hat that most Guatemalans wear and place it on the grass verge over the cockerel, which obligingly thought it was night time. Bird and hat remained perfectly still while he heaved the sack on his back, balanced it and finally bent down to retrieve hat and cockerel before setting off for home. The buses
are the ones used by locals, not generally by tourists, unless, as we
were, you are trying desperately to economise. They are ex-American school
buses with hard upright meagrely padded seats, short on leg-room. Seats
are meant for two, but you are expected to get at least three people on
each, even if one of these is an extremely broad-beamed lady in a voluminous
traditional skirt. Passengers are legally not permitted to be standing
up, so those who are packed into the gangway listen out for the warning
shout "iBaja!" (Get down!) whenever those seated see a policeman.
Knees are duly bent so that owners are in a squatting position, apparently
seated, and the policeman will then obligingly turn a blind eye to an
over-packed bus, as regulations seem to be being obeyed. As far as your luggage is concerned, you need to have a bag that is flexibly squashable, padlocked against nimble exploring fingers and with nothing inside that is liable to get broken. If your bag is slung on top of the bus, it is as well to have all your clothes packed in plastic bags inside, as torrential downpours soak through most outside layers. You must also watch what is taken off the roof whenever the bus stops. !fyour bag is thrown into the back, it is even more difficult to keep an eye on it and I once saw a local stuffing a bicycle in there and trampling over everybody's bags in the process. As one is
often squashed on these buses for hours at a time, women do get on to
sell refreshments. However tightly packed you are,there is always room
for someone, determined on selling, to shove past, balancing a basket
of cakes or a tray of bottled drinks on her head. Should you buy a bottled
soft drink, it is Long journeys can be particularly tiring if you are one of those standing and I well remember sinking gratefully on to an upturned bucket in the crowded gangway. The Australian in our group very gallantly put his bush hat on it, so that the metal rim did not dig quite so uncomfortably into my thighs. There may not be room for many chickens on these buses, but they are a fascinating, if uncomfortable, insight into the life of the everyday people. First published in VISA issue 56A (June 2004) |