Bus rides

I went on the bus the other day, for the second time. It was kind of funny, which is seeming to be the norm. The first time, I was waiting for a taxi, and it came and stopped right in front of me, so I got on. It wasn't full; people swarmed the door to get on. We were on Broad Street, probably the busiest street in downtown Monrovia, and the bus was holding up traffic stopped as it was. No bus lanes here, much less designated stops. Horns went off. So, even though there was a queue (albeit haphazard) and people still boarding (myself included), the bus started moving. I jumped on as the bus inched along. A ticket from the driver, 15LD to the cashier in the front seat, and I walked towards the back.

The second time it was fuller when I got on. We packed in there quite well, with people sitting on the back steps (which seemed fine as the back doors rarely opened). It was stuffy and hot, with only the breeze through the window as respite. I seem to be quite a novelty on the bus, with people inside and outside pointing me out. And referring to me in the third person, though I’d be standing right next to them. The lady beside me, when I reacted to people talking about me, said, "She smile", "She laugh".

It’s always a bit of an adventure. Michelle said that when she went on the bus one day a man came on and started preaching. She was told he fought during the war but was now a preacher. We think it was General Butt Naked.

The bells don’t seem to work. I wondered how I would get off the bus; I couldn't remember where the bus stops were. I soon realized that requesting a stop involved yelling out where you wanted to get off, and having your request relayed to the driver by others echoing your request up to the front of the bus. I did manage to get home, both times.