Bus stories 1 – Saving Farts

A bus ride from Riobamba to Cuenca, Ecuador, May 1980

I had been sitting on the bus for an hour on the six-hour ride from Riobamba to Cuenca across the Ecuadorian Andes, watching the dusk on the horizon with fascination. When we had left at 4 a.m., impenetrable darkness still lay over the land. But now, I could slowly make out the outlines of the magnificent landscape.

On the bus, most of the passengers had fallen asleep shortly after departure and were snoring more or less loudly to themselves. It was Monday morning; therefore, some uniformed soldiers were also on the bus. They returned to the barracks after spending the weekend with their families, friends and girlfriends. Presumably, they had gotten little sleep in the last two days because their sleep was deep and sound.

Even in the seat in front of me, a young soldier slept completely soundly. But whatever his mother had cooked him, the after-effects could be heard and smelled. He constantly farted in his sleep.

The stench formed an expanding aura around the young man and included me, who was sitting immediately behind him. It was becoming more and more unbearable. Since I was sitting along the aisle, I could not open a window to neutralize the foul odour with fresh air. So I surrendered to my fate and dug out my little bottle of China oil, which I, as an experienced traveller, always have with me for just such cases. It helped defuse the situation odour-wise, but the oil scent also kept me awake.

Actually, I was grateful that I didn’t fall prey to sleep as well. The Andean landscape that spread before my eyes was spectacular. The road led over mountains and through valleys, often passing deep gorges. I could make out the Chimborazo volcano in the twilight with its snow-capped peak. It was overwhelming, and I felt blessed to be able to experience it. I was fascinated by the bus driver as he skillfully manoeuvred the bus along steep slopes and around curves.

Busride through beautiful Andean Landscape in Ecuador

But then I stumbled. I could watch the driver’s eyes from my seat in the rearview mirror. It almost seemed as if his eyelids grew heavy from time to time. No! That couldn’t be! But I could clearly see that he was struggling to keep his eyes open.

I could not believe what was happening. The route through the mountains was hazardous. The lives of the 50 passengers on the bus depended on this driver. Then, in the twilight, I realized that we were slowly approaching a very tight curve that would require the driver’s full attention. And apparently, of all people, his eyes were constantly falling shut.

I was the only person on this bus who was awake, and I didn’t know what to do now!

I could scream out loud?! I could jump up and clap?! By doing so, I would startle the bus driver and all the other peacefully slumbering passengers. Would I make a fool of myself? The crazy gringa! Typical, hysterical and overly anxious! She doesn’t know her way around and still interferes everywhere!

However, if a local would see the danger too? He would be treated with respect. Panic-stricken, I looked around. But I was actually the only one who recognized the impending disaster.

It is strange, not to say completely insane, that in such a life-threatening situation, one is concerned about whether one would make a fool of oneself if one attempted a rescue. But that’s exactly how I thought and felt as the bus approached the curve with a driver almost asleep.

I finally overcame my paralysis of shock, jumped up, clapped my hands as hard as I could a few times, and immediately sat back down as if nothing had happened.

A few passengers looked up briefly but immediately fell asleep again.

Not so the driver! He pulled the wheel around in time and took the curve without any problems. He was now wide awake, and I was shaking all over.

In the mirror, he searched my eyes, and I could see his relief and gratitude in them. We understood each other! (LL)