Buses in Guatemala

The streetlights guided us up the short distance to the bus. Once inside, Colin and I chose a seat towards the back; he sat next to the window, I sat in the aisle. Slowly the seats in front of us filled with mothers carrying babies in sacks on their backs, with young children clutching onto dresses that guided them down the aisle, and with solemn teenaged boys. It was four in the morning, and a five hour journey stood between us and Guatemala´s government-owned amusement park. Though the benches around us began to sit three, four, or five, Colin and I sat alone with little space to spare.

Slowly the narrow aisle disappeared as people sat on the edges of seats and sat balanced between them. Fifteen minutes into the journey, the family that had sat in the adjacent bench began to shuffle around. A young woman had allowed a six or seven year old sister and another, younger brother to claim one leg each of her lap. Next to her sat her portly mother, who tried to keep a baby quiet. I could no longer see the teenaged boy that had sat by himself before the family arrived, he was crushed against the window. Altogether they shared the equivalent of school bus bench.

I could hardly deny the young girl the few inches of seat I could squeeze into availability.

I know the exact distance between my bench and the one in front of it: exactly one inch shorter than length between my back and my knees. I pressed my knees into the bench´s back and leaned back, but I lost the feeling in my legs. I tried to rest my head on my legs, but the crown of my head bounced against the seat, and a sudden jolt would probably have snapped my neck. I tried to lean forward, but the girl would take advantage of the adjusted position and allow her head to slide down my back as she nodded off.

Such are the buses in Guatemala. You think they´re at full capacity, and then another four people get on, and then another two, and then another three. By the end, people are seated three or four to a two-seater bench, the aisle is lined with bodies that balance themselves against those that surround it, and people are squeezed into the stairwell. People hang outside the door and sometimes on the window. Needless to say, I didn´t get much reading done.