Bopping through Sabah

Mt. Kinabalu over the rice paddies in Kota Belud on the road north to Kudat

One of my favorite things to do here is ride along with my friends to go places.  In most places, you would say, “go for a drive.”  But here I like to think of it as bopping through Sabah.  For me, driving evokes images of mostly up-kept, two lane highways, and a consistent speed.   But even the main roads between major cities in Sabah, the roads are mostly two lanes of questionable condition through the mountains.    And the road is lined with little Kampungs (villages) every now and then, which means groups of school children walk home; pick up trucks full of people stop like buses; and large farm animals graze the grass next to the road.  But it also means that semi-trucks with gas, or other materials are trucking slowly up and down the hills.

And so yesterday, I bopped north through Sabah to take one of my friends and her niece and nephew to the boat launch in Kudat to return to Kampung for a funeral.  We were in a hurry, trying to get them there before the last ferry left.  But you can’t really bop through the mountains of Sabah quickly.  There was the jam at one major roundabout, the line of cars behind the semi attempting to make it up the mountain, the seemingly endless spots of broken road that forced us to slow down.  And at some points, Sufiana, one of our youngest girls, and I were literally bopping.  Sitting just in front of the back wheels, every time we hit any sort of pothole, we flew.   We didn't make the ferry, but some other family members where there to greet us and spend the night to wait for the next morning's early ferry. 

We took our time on our way home.  And sitting in the front seat, it was amazing how much smoother the ride was.  But part of the beauty of bopping through Sabah is the time spent together in the car.  It took us around 6 hours to get to Kudat and back, and sitting with the same people in the car for that long forces conversation.  I gained courage as time past, asking more meaningful questions, learning more and more about life here and sharing more and more about life in the States.   Perhaps there is something holy about time separated from the rest of the world?  Something holy about broken people driving along broken roads, healing together in real, honest and challenging conversations.