Cobradores

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"Sube sube sube!!" The buses whiz by, pausing only if they think you might hop on. Taxis honk at me because surely I can't be waiting for a bus. I wait. Buses whiz by. The cobradores rattle off lists of destinations that are incomprehensible to the untrained ear. One pauses. "Bolognesi?" I ask. The slightest of nods, rarely a firm "Sí!" tells me I can get on this adventure on wheels. Off we go.

Most days it's the same. A bad song from the 80's or the energetic, overplayed "We will rock you" is the soundtrack for the trip. Am I the only one that understands these lyrics? Am I the only one wishing for another song to be played? We're not in the US. Then "Yo No Sé Mañana" comes on. Feet begin to tap, lyrics are mumbled, hips shake a little here and there. The passengers have come alive in the stoic way that only bus riders can. My irritation is only because the song will be in my head the rest of the day.

We whiz by the street vendors, taxis, and pedestrians also en route. It's the same, yet different every day. The faces are worried, calm, happy, hungry, irritated, unfamiliar. The high cheekbones remind me of the Incan roots of this country. Beautiful faces, young and old. Suddenly, a familiar face! It's the guy with the clipboard. I've seen him other mornings! His pleasant expression has caught my eye before. He doesn't seem bored or annoyed at his job of checking off something on his clipboard as buses go by. His job has a purpose I don't understand. He seems to enjoy it. His age is hard to figure out though. His height suggests he's older, but his face claims his youth. He might be 16. Suddenly my mind remembers something I learned a few weeks ago. "Getting a job as a cobrador in Lima is making it big," we were told. We were in a squatter community on the outskirts of Lima where the desert meets the mountains and the opportunities are sparse. Had this teenager come from there? Is he hoping to become a cobrador on a bus, or is the clipboard job as good as it'll get? He smiles while doing his job.

The cobradores and the bus drivers have some sort of secret language. The driver never looks back, always stares straight ahead. The cobrador will take care of it all. He or she will fill the bus, make the space, collect the money and make sure the driver knows when to stop. The driver has a task of his own. He must navigate through the streams of traffic and chaos. Somedays the drivers seem angry, somedays they seemed bored. Only once has one driven in a slow, Sunday afternoon drive type of way.

There is an etiquette on the bus. No one listens to the cobrador when he says "Sigue, adelante." No one moves back. But when an elderly person or a pregnant woman squeezes into the bus, seats are offered, space is made. Even young kids do this. There is an etiquette on the bus.

So little space, but somehow there's always room for one more. Pressed together, we are thrown around together as brakes are slammed, as cars are dodged. Everyone is in their own world though.

Being human... How frail we all are, yet how resilient. Many in this world live lives dictated by the decisions of those far away. Other make those very decisions based on their wants, their needs. Out of sight, out of mind, right? Or so they say. Oh, how we cause pain in ways we choose not to see. The resiliency of the human spirit, however, can shine through even in the darkest moments. Voices that have been silenced can learn to speak. Through movements of solidarity and care, voices can become louder, voices can become one.

On the bus we are all one. Young, old, rich, poor, Peruvian and North American. Like on earth, we are all squeezed into the same space. There are different destinations, different hopes, different fears, and different ideas, but for the time being, we're all in it together. On the bus we are literally forced to face one another, eye to eye. This is good for me. It reminds me to look beyond myself.

"Sube sube sube!" the cobrador yells. "Up up up!" There is somehow always room for one more. When the bus pauses for you, you have to jump on.

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Comments

[CJ]

Wow, I love this post. Thanks for sharing bud.

[Chris McReynolds]

Buses
Thanks for the great updates Liz! I too was facinated by the bus system when in Cuernavaca...they don't have the clip board guys or cobradores here in Nuevo Laredo. Take care!