Fiji ’till you’ve

Tourism

You haven’t seen Fiji ’till you’ve taken a bus ride

By Lema Low

The bus moved forward again. There wasn't space for another single thing. There was hardly space to draw a breath. I wondered how I would leave the bus when the time came, and decided the best way would be to leap through the window, rather than walk on everybody's baskets.

We turned the corner at the Three Lamps and at last headed for the Great Outback of Buca Bay and interim ports so I thought. But the bus pulled up at the first building round the corner. Linder a verandah sat a man strumming a guitar.

All the passengers (including myself) yelled, Vodo mail" meaning "Come aboard"!

Without further ado, he did with a companion, a guitar, a briefcase, two suitcases and a bundle of mats!

With a creaky protest, the dear old bus got under way again, everybody smiling happi ly, in the irrepressible Pacific way. Well (I thought) no more stops now we haven't a spare centimetre. Just then, the bell rang. A passenger, with a few muttered words to the driver, left the bus. Hooray! One less that's more like it.

The bus didn't move. The driver chewed gum and stared into space. Presently, the same passenger hurried back and clambered aboard with a suitcase!

Well (I thought) nothing else will surprise me. I've seen

everything now.

But I was speechless with wonder for the bus did not stop again until it reached my own gate. It roller-coasted over the hills and down into the valleys. It swept along the air port road in a cloud of dust, and drew up with a flourish that sent the goats scampering for cover.

"Eight cents, ma'am," chirped the driver, with a distinct twinkle in his eye.

The bus driver chewed gum and read the latest Fiji Times. To anxious enquirers, his stock rep ly was, "Leaving in 10 minutes."

There was an air of excite ment when finally, only a few minutes behind schedule, the bus moved off but, of course, that meant nothing at all. It was destined to meander all along Savusavu town before taking off for the Great Outback of Buca Bay, Napuka, Natuvu and other points east of Savusavu.

Waving an impassioned farewell to friends as if we were setting out on a voyage of discovery around the world, in stead of on the daily run for Buca Bay we wandered along the waterfront road.

The bus-driver was on the watch for his "regulars". There was a loud screech from Matai's Store and a gay sulu flapped in the breeze as a woman rushed out with a child on one hip and a parcel of groceries.

"No hurry," the driver con soled her, as he helped her aboard.