Africa's not for Sissies

Chapter 14: No Room on the Bus

I awoke the next morning feeling like I was the unpopular kid in the class again, so when I noticed there was a Baz Bus pickup scheduled for today, I decided the best thing to do would be to move on. I told Jerry I was going to catch the bus today, and asked him he wanted to come with me. We'd formed a bit of a traveling friendship, and I hoped he would say yes.

"Yaw," he said. "I'm ready to move on too."

I was glad for his company. He, at least, was still friendly towards me.

We stuffed everything back in our packs, and made our way outside at the scheduled pick-up time to get on the bus. When the bus pulled up, I noticed it was almost full, and there didn't seem to be many people getting off. There were several of us waiting to get on, including Fred and James, who were ignoring me.

The driver stepped off, clipboard in hand. "Amy? Jason?" he called out.

Amy and Jason identified themselves and hopped on.

The driver snapped his clipboard shut. "The rest of you will have to wait for the next bus."

"When's the next bus?" Jerry asked.

"In three days."

"You're kidding?" I said.

The driver gave me a surly look. "I guess you should've made a reservation."

I wanted to say, "I thought the whole point of this Baz Bus was that it was hop-on hop-off. Isn't that why you charge so much? To give us the freedom and flexibility to travel at our own pace?" But I said nothing.

Fred and James disappeared into the office. The bus pulled away, leaving us in a cloud of dust.

Jerry dropped his pack on the ground and sighed. "Another three days."

I did the same. "I guess so."

He looked at me. "Minibus?"

"I was warned never to get in one."

Jerry was already flipping through his guidebook. He found the section about the minibus and read it aloud: "Minibus taxis are also known as black taxis. There are three problems with this mode of transport: a high accident rate, muggings at the taxi ranks, and they are never full—even if you might disagree. It would be irresponsible for this guide to recommend that anyone travel by black taxi. Leave them alone."

I'd seen them drive by full of sweaty, wide-eyed passengers, with their faces pressed against the windows as if gasping for breath.

Fred called out from inside the office. "Hey Jerry, come here a minute!"

Jerry wandered inside, and I sat on my backpack and tried to think of options.

He returned a minute later. "We're going to rent a car."

"Good idea!" I said.

He gave me an apologetic look, and I realized he was saying goodbye. I felt a pang of sorrow. I hadn't known Jerry very long, but we'd been nearly inseparable since I first tentatively sat next to him on the Baz Bus in Johannesburg. I remembered how intimidated I'd felt back then by all his piercings. He'd turned out to be a pretty nice guy and not nearly as tough as he looked.

"I can't come with you?"

He shrugged as Fred and James came over to grab their packs.

James slung his on. "It's a small car, we'll be lucky to fit the three of us with our packs. Sorry, mate."

"Might see you on the Garden Route?" Jerry said.

I stared at the ground as the three of them marched back inside with their packs. "Yeah, maybe," I said.