Bus Connections

As I become slightly more competent in both cultural norms and my Malay skills, I have been taking the opportunity to venture on my own to pekan (town).  To get to pekan, I could take the 45 minute walk, which would be less than pleasant in the morning heat, ride my mostly broken bike, or ask to see when people at Jireh Home are going.   But instead I've been taking the bus in from the bus stop very close to my house, as I did a couple of times with Lebiana and Kisa when I first got to Jireh Home.

Bus is a liberal description of the transport I normally receive.  Instead of the color coded minibuses in KK or the large coach buses that take people across Sabah, my bus is whatever car or van stops to pick me up.   One time, a neighbor picked me up as I was walking to the bus stop.  We had a very nice conversation in English and she dropped me off with a promise to pick me up again sometime.  This would never be okay in the States.  But stranger danger is definitely not a thing here.  So I sit at the bus stop and wait.  Sometimes I wait for 2 minutes and sometimes I wait for 15 or 20 minutes.  As a result, I've gotten pretty good at the snake game on my handphone.  But eventually a van will flash its lights, I'll stand up and squeeze  past the few other people into the back row.

If I get enough stares from the person sitting next to me (likely as I am very white here), I'll ask, "Apa Khabar?" (How are you?) And if they continue the conversation, we talk about what I am doing here, how long I've been here and where I'm from.  Usually my new friend will tell me I am incredibly clever to speak Malay at least twice in the conversation, which is a nice constant self-esteem boost.  By the time we reach town we part and will likely run into each other again sometime.

However, my favorite part of taking the bus is the ride home.  The vans to my part of Tuaran leave from in front of a little convenience store, where the drivers and other locals sit and chat.  People looking to ride the van stand around and chat as well, because the van won't leave until it is full.  This past week, one of the drivers recognized me and asked if I wanted to go to Jireh Home.  I told him I was actually going to rumah saya (my house), which was before Taman Sinar Jaya (Jireh Home's subdivision),  by the rumah biru (blue house, an incredibly helpful landmark for my dirt road home).  And then I got in the van and waited.  Even though it was hotter in the bus, I didn't want to miss the unspoken signal to get in.

A couple of minutes later, a lady and her four year old daughter sat next to me and we started talking about her daughter and our lives.  It was a simple conversation, but it was all in Malay and easier for me than I expected.  When the van stopped at her house, she to me to come to her house if I ever need help, then followed her running daughter down their driveway.

And that is why I love the bus.  Because it is another way to be connected in town, to learn about life in Malaysia outside of Jireh Home, to recognize faces in the community.  It's likely I won't see that particular woman and her adorable daughter for a while, but the fact that they were brave enough to engage in conversation with the clear foreigner made my day.  And if I do ever need help along the road home, I know exactly where do stop.