#11 Passenger

Back in November 2014, when I was forced to hop on a bus alone, I didn't have the slightest idea on how it would change my life.

Dramatic, I know. But here I am, one and a half year since that day, and I can sit here and think, "Wow, I've learnt a lot." I mean a lot. And I am sort of addicted to bus rides. Which is, well, such an amusing thing, considering that I was never really willing to ride public buses in the first place.

I can't remember why exactly I had to take the bus on that particular day in November 2014. Did the car break down? Was my dad (or sister?) unable to fetch me back from college? 

Looking Back

I was still pretty much depressed in November 2014. Nothing had changed much at that time. I was still lamenting over the fact that I lost my scholarship. Kuching was a shithole at that time. I wanted to be far away, I wanted to be free. But I found myself in a position where I was incapable of doing things on my own, and my confidence was completely shattered. I was dependent on my family and friends over a lot of things. I hated myself for not being able to drive. I hated my life. I hated myself.

Looking Wayyy Back

The 3A bus was nothing new to me. But it wasn't something that I hopped on frequently when I was younger. And I never boarded the public buses alone. 

I used to go to school by bus though. And I hated it. It was all about competition, about being the first to fight for seats, about having connections (kids always saved the seats for their friends) and I once fell from the stairs for rushing to reach the school bus after class. I was in Form 3 at that time. I still remember how my KHB file flung out of my hands when I missed that last step. I was always the first to pack my bag during last lessons. My school bus driver never wanted to wait for late kids. And in the morning I woke up at 4am to go to school. I always reached school when it was still dark. I don't have fond memories with school buses, generally. 

Buses in Intec

Who would've thought that I had to board buses again after leaving secondary school. I love the buses in Intec. I remember some faces of my favourite bus drivers. I loved the times when the other students offered to hold my books when I couldn't get a seat. I miss the times when I had the chance to sit next to my friends. And I remember the bad times as well. The time when I cried from Intec to Akasia. And I remember the funny times too, like on that particular day we had to bring snails for Biology. 

How STC and CPL Changed My Life

A little bit of background for those who are lost: STC stands for Sarawak Transport Company. STC buses are basically the old school, retro, non air-conditioned (whatever you categorise it as) buses. CPL buses are the newer ones with air-conds.

And fact number 2: I am a faithful passenger of 3A buses, which are buses that travel along the route from Kuching to Serian (and back to Kuching). These buses are the most frequent ones (you can basically find one in like half an hour interval depending on your luck).

My stop is approximately at the midpoint of this whole route, so you can sort of say that there are many things to learn and observe on every ride.

Why am I compelled to write this, I don't really know. 

I was sitting on the bus today, looking at the pigeons flying around the Sikh temple, and I look up to the clouds, and I look at people's faces..and boy, I felt so lucky to be alive. And I felt so fortunate that I can just sit there and do nothing, sipping my Nescafe Latte, staring at people and places and things, and it suddenly dawned upon me that boy, this wouldn't happen if things didn't happen the way they've happened. 

And it all started in November 2014.

Fast forward to nearly two years later, and here I am, boarding public buses although I already have a driving licence. 

And I dread the day when I'm going to graduate, and all these routine will end, and I can never feel that same liberation I've found on creaky STC buses. 

My perspective of things have changed. If before this I felt trapped with no options in life, well, riding public buses in Kuching has given me a sense of hope (and control) over my life. Instead of comparing my life with the lives of my friends who are doing a lot better, I look at the faces of tired souls, old men, bitter women, and I feel a sense of gratitude that at least I live a life with a certain amount of privilege. 

There's no way I can feel so much about people if I didn't get forced to board the bus in the first place. There's just so much that I've encountered and learnt. Remember that time when I didn't have extra money left because I spent it all on ABC? And the bus broke down and I didn't have anything but 20 cents in my pocket so I couldn't hop on another bus. And I boarded an STC bus anyway, and told the driver that I'll be paying upon reaching my stop. And I ended up paying 50 cents short. I no longer remember the face of the driver, but boy, I still remember how terrible I felt that day.

And I remember the ill man who I met twice. And I still wonder about him a lot of time and pray that he's doing well.

And I remember that women with four little kids who didn't get any seats and nobody cared. And everytime  think of her and her kids, I can't stop thinking how fortunate I am to not have such childhood experience.

And I remember about the mentally ill woman, and I wonder about her life, and how she ended up this way.

I remember about the man who gave me his newspaper, about how I saw him 2 or 3 times before that actually. But now I no longer see him anymore. And I wonder where he is.

And there's that scruffy guy who took the trouble to find the 10 cents that I dropped on the floor, and he taught me that scruffy guys have good hearts too.

I wonder about the woman who talked to me about domestic violence and how she helps other women to get out of that situation, and how she told me she has a daughter who is taking PhD, and dang, I swear at that moment I felt lucky to talk to her.

I remember another woman who sat next to me but gave up her seat together with me so that an old couple could sit down. We ended up standing up together along the 5pm jam and the bus was really crowded that day. I felt bad for her because she carried a heavy bag, but she willingly stood up while many other men pretended like they did not see the old couple. It's amusing that both the good, the bad (and the ugly) can be found on public buses. 

I also observe drivers.

I haven't seen one particular bus driver in a long time. The one who reads Borneo Post. And he's perhaps the only one who reads that English newspaper among other bus drivers. He would open up his newspapers during every traffic light stop and he'd read every section including the world news. Sometimes I wonder what job did he have before becoming a bus driver.

And there's this other one who wears a cap and earphones all the time. He once laughed at me when I chased the bus. I haven't boarded on his bus for quite a while now but I know he's still around. I kind of like him because he's cool.

And another one, he's friendly in a good way. I like the way he talks to his passengers. He would talk to makciks so nicely and I like how he sorts of establishes a good driver-passenger relationship with people. 

And oh there are weird ones. There's this grumpy one who talked harshly to an old man. And he played metal songs from his pen drive all along the journey. It was one of my worst rides. I'm thankful that I've never seen him since. 

And there's this really old one. He also the grumpy kind. I'm glad I haven't been on his bus in a while now. 

And this semester I've been having quite a fixed bus schedule so on one particular day of the week, same timing, I'd hop on the same bus with the same driver and I think he can remember my face already. His has this thinning white hair like one of my tutors, and he never smiles. He's so detached. I don't think he enjoys his job much. He looks like someone I know from another lifetime, if you get what I mean. Everytime I see him I feel like I've known him for a long time but that's not the truth.

And lastly there's this one who wears spectacles and his uniform is ironed and he looks so out of place if you get what I mean. I've been wondering what made him drive buses. Was it something mum and dad wanted him to do? Did he fail to get other jobs? Does he enjoy driving buses? Because he's the first bus driver to respond to my "thank you" when I paid my fare and he gave me the ticket. And he has such a calm face which amazes me. It made me think how weird life is. 

You see I've grown a thousand times more observant and I find myself asking questions all the time these days. There's always this voice inside my head constructing sentences about people and their actions and the way they do things and I begin to wonder is this the result of riding buses every week for one and a half year?

And I realise I'm not the same person anymore. 

Public buses made me think more about people's private lives (sorry that sounds creepy) and that made me think on how easy it is to construct opinions about other people while the truth is that all these people are going through so many crazy stuff in their lives and you don't have the slightest idea about their background. 

I saw a car that was trapped in the jam next to my bus today. And my brain went..

The only passenger he had with him in that 5pm jam was the Panasonic vacuum cleaner he bought earlier on.

Do you get what I'm trying to say?

It's crazy! I begin to think if the man's going home to an empty home or is his wife and kids are there with dinner prepared on the table and all those usual stuffs in normal people's lives.

And I guess that's how public bus rides have changed me.

There's no way I can describe it all without sounding like a creep, but dios mio, life has never been this interesting. And there's so much to learn from other people.

And I love the way I pay a few ringgits just to sit down and do nothing, free from any responsibilities of life, and it's like watching a movie full of interesting characters, and my brain never really stops (except for the times I fall asleep).

And I ponder about the people I've met, and never see again, and the people who I won't be seeing ever again in the future. It makes me sad.

How can I feel a certain degree of attachment with strangers, I will never know.

Perhaps it's because I feel belonged in a crowd of strangers. And that's just weird.

And maybe that's just how public buses have changed my life.