Of Kuru, a bus ride and feasting

GASEBALWE SERETSE
Staff Writer | Friday August 27, 2010 00:00

Making the long trip to Gantsi is part of the adventure and this year the downside to my trip was that I could not use my car, which meant that I could not stop along the way to take pictures as I had done for the past three years.  But all was not lost because the trip that I made last weekend gave me the opportunity to interact with ordinary folk on their way to Gantsi.

I have to say I had not used public transport in a long while, so the trip reminded me of the days before I bought a car.

I had the rude awakening that our local bus drivers and conductors are never concerned about the welfare of their passengers as long as they make money out of their trips.

Although by the time we left the bus station, the bus was full, it stops along the way to pick up other people who fill the aisle.

In this part of the world, it is a real challenge to survive a bus ride. For starters, some individuals like travelling without bothering to take a bath before interacting with other passengers, so if you are unlucky, you might be forced to sit next to somebody who has not bathed in a long while.

The sad thing is that since you are just a passenger like the other fellow, you cannot complain about his poor hygiene unless you want to risk having your head bashed in.  Sometimes you are forced to sit next to the chatty type and if the person cannot read from your hostile look that you are not up for a chat, he or she would continue bringing up one topic after another.

I have learnt from my past experience to silently send a message across to my travel companions if I was not up for a chat and the trick seems to work. Just pretend to be clueless and the other person will be 'turned off'.

Fortunately for me, the man sitting next to me is the quite and decent type so I was not subjected to any 'torture'. Having left my home in a hurry earlier that morning, I had forgotten to bring along my magazines and books so I am forced to stare at the long road ahead for some time. My colleague, Tlhalefang Charles, has got a book about some rebel groups in sub-Saharan Africa with him and I borrow it, but soon he nudges me and asks me to return it.

Reluctantly, I part with the book and it is back to staring at the road.

Not far from where I am sitting, there are five young men who start talking about a wide range of issues, from local politics to love affairs.

As I am well acquainted with one of them, I gather that they are all from Gaborone and that they are on their way to D'kar to visit a friend of theirs.

The debates become engaging as other youthful passengers join in, but as I slept late the previous night, I keep on dozing off.

I have never been a fan of eating while travelling by bus, but since I had left home before breakfast, I join others in buying 'mhago' or provisions for the journey at the Jwaneng bus rank.

The trip is boring.  I find even the most trivial things amusing, the elderly woman sitting not far from me who keeps on 'feasting' from her large plastic until we reached our destination. 

I kept wondering just how the woman managed to gobble up all that food.

When one takes a long journey, it is important that he or she has something handy to keep him or herself busy with.  I find myself listening to the debaters, but I am reluctant to join in because I did not want to be 'held hostage' by the discussion.

Sleeping in a moving vehicle is not one of my strongest points, so I really struggle to take a nap in the bus with its uncomfortable seats.

As if that is not enough, I find that most of the people in the bus are the chatty type and this does not help matters at all.

I kick myself for not bringing a book and some magazines to read.  There is a man who has got an issue of Mmegi, which I have not read,, but I cannot bring myself to borrow it since I know how I hate it when a stranger borrows my paper or magazine and keeps reading it while you, the owner, on the other hand, is forced to stared at the never-ending road.

I sigh with relief when we reach Kang because I know that it means we are not too far from Gantsi.

We alight at a store where we buy what is supposed to be lunch.  One of the things that make me reluctant to eat during a trip on a public bus is eating spoiled food that makes you frequent the 'bathroom'.

I have to confess that I am one of those people who scowl at individuals who stop the bus to answer the call of nature, which is most certainly being inconsiderate.

Along the way, I feel that I have caught a stomach bug, but I pray silently that I do not have to stop the bus. Fortunately, we arrive at Gantsi without me getting into an embarrassing situation. Charles and I head off to Kalahari Arms Hotel where we had booked for two nights.

I refresh by taking a shower and having a short nap.  The night of healing dances awaits us at the Dqae Qare Festival and the following day we will enjoy the rest of the internationally acclaimed Kuru San Dance Festival.

After the festival on Sunday, the journey back to Gaborone is quicker because Charles managed to get a lift with an acquaintance, for a fee of course.  At least in our private car, we are able to stop along the way to refresh and answer the call of nature.

We also take the shorter Molepolole route and we arrive in the city of Gaborone around lunch.  As always, the Kuru experience is something to write home about.