Arriving in Rwanda
The bus was speeding through the dark, hitting bumps that would send us all bouncing off the seat, and me who didn't weigh that much, would catch close to a foot of air sometimes. There was a group of women in the back, who would all giggle whenever a bump came around, it gave me the reminder to relax just a little, but this bus ride was one the time during the whole trip where I wondered if we would make it. My nerves were on fire, I had thoughts of crashing, going tumbling off the side of who knows what because it was too dark to see what was out there. This would be one of the many reasons why I would be hesitant to take a night bus again, though I did later on in Mexico and Colombia. It was late, I couldn't sleep and the bus absorbed all the shocks so it hurt when a bump would come, and I would try and purposefully lift myself up, to roll with the bumps instead of being lifted by them. Later on, when I recalled the story to one of my co-workers, she told me it was best to sleep on a bus because you are less likely to break bones in a crash when your body is less rigid. People really live like that?
Thank you for visiting! This is my personal blog, where I write about social justice, geography, culture, and my own encounters and reflections from around the world.