The Bus Ride

You learn a lot on a long bus ride and in the case of where I am from, you get podcasts. An intricate community web where everything gets spilled; in fact no one is spared. Tales are spread with no regard for authentication, sparkling eyes and elongated lips, dishing out sweet juices that no local fruits can offer. Yet, they gulp and drink. The passengers revel in it, hands all sticky gripping the dirty seats, not one gesturing discomfort or protest. Ears are sharply attuned, even the ones apparent with earphones slyly lower the amplification of their devices. Of course they want to listen!

By the time you get to Anse- La- Raye, you would have known who sleeps with who. You would hear who was at the fete and you will hear who did not come because they probably did not have money or clothes. Out of all the possible reasons, that has got to be the only one, huh?! You will hear about the teacher and what she wore to work, then you'd hear about the policeman and why he does not own a car. On that bus ride, you will hear about the ladies in the church, how their husbands do not love them and you will also learn the names of the younger women who please them on most nights.

Your ears will burn in disbelief at the ease with which those stories are told. You will hear of all the judgement regarding how someone lives his or her life. You will hear that Courts delivered and you will hear they came to collect. You will hear that WASCO came to visit and you will hear that Lucelec called. You will hear that his rent is due and that she could not pay for her hair. Oh, on that long bus ride, believe me you will hear!

Here's what you will NEVER hear though. You will never hear of the mother who is trying, juggling her goals and her kids, you will never hear of how much that policeman helps his family, so it is taking him a while to get that car. You will never hear of the young girl who had to face life too young and so the only means she had when she did not know better was sleeping with that man. You will never hear of the good grades and the student who made the Dean's list, you won't even hear how hard he is studying. You will never hear of the long nights, the sacrifices, the persistence, the growth, the endurance. You never hear enough of the good things. You will not hear of the story tellers' imperfections and past committed sins. You will never hear of their own skeletons and how they rose from the grave.

All you hear is judgement, delivered with passion and with glee, with not one person to query, "you think this is true?" Instead they salivate and probe, filling up with a sense of righteousness as they look upon others with disdain. 

The bus arrives and no one has a clue when and how. Bellies are full, they are all consumed. Talk was sweet! As they disembark and journey on home, they encounter some of the faces that made it to the lips of the riders. They smile. The unknowing victim smiles right back, happy to see an acquaintance. To think you were just served on a platter, peeled and exposed but the wolf passes you, as calm as the lamb and says "hello my friend." Hypocrisy is the main ingredient in what they cook and my oh my, how distasteful! 

Be careful on those long bus rides.