On the bus

Yesterday was the quarterly Regional Meeting, where all volunteers in a given province or region get together for two main reasons: to interact and network with local Panamanian agencies and build contacts, and to have a meeting with a few members of the Peace Corps staff for updates.

A close volunteer and I rode in on the bus together. We live within walking distance of each other; it just makes sense.

Before I get into the story I should preface it with this. When volunteers get together, a few things typically happen, the most common of which is venting. We complain about Panamanian cultural differences that frustrate us. Often, we harp on the lackadaisical way they treat most endeavors: work, play, everyday life. Especially right now in the heat of summer with no school in session, no crops being planted, and few to no projects being started. It's quite therapeutic to share these feelings with volunteers who are experiencing the same issues. We often turn to each other because our loved ones back home sometimes don't understand. So we share our stories and have a laugh about it. We're sometimes critical of these people. While it's humorous to us, it's occasionally at the expense of our host country.

On the way to the meeting, a group of women and a few children boarded the bus. They chose to stand and grab the overhead handrail, bracing themselves against other people's seats, inevitably rubbing their crotch or ass against shoulders or heads of seated passengers. All this, when not two and three rows behind us were open seats. Enough open seats for everyone to sit comfortably. My friend and I were baffled. We thought, If you're going to pay, why not sit down and be comfortable? We even exchanged a few words about it. At this point in my service, I try to avoid that type of conversation by saying, "I don't know" or "People are different." I didn't want to bang my head against a wall, er, window, trying to make sense of something unusual to me. In the moment, I didn't seek to understand, to empathize, but I was curious. I kept watching.

A stop later, more people boarded and that horrible situation of squeezing behind people in the bus aisle came to pass. The new passengers took the seats those women and children had left open. This happened a few more times at subsequent bus stops. And all the while the standers kept their silly smiles on their faces, just trying to be polite.

To me, being polite would be making entrance and exit from the vehicle as easy and comfortable as possible: getting out of the aisle so people can get in, sitting in one of two connected empty seats as far away from strangers before sitting in that seat next to an already seated passenger, etc. We thought it was ridiculous how they had handled the situation. Why didn't they just sit down when they had the chance?

A few stops later, those women and children got off the bus. It turned out they weren't going very far. That's when it made sense to me: they stood on the bus so that people who were traveling farther, to Santiago, could sit and have a comfortable ride. After seeing what happened, I was ashamed for having judged them, because I realized it was simply their way of being polite to future passengers.

My idea of courtesy in public transportation is vastly different from what I have experienced here. I could never imagine picking up a stranger's child to help him or her board the bus. Or holding a stranger's baby or toddler in my arms while the mother searched her bag. "I'm not about to touch somebody else's kid. I don't want to get sued!" I could never imagine having a cell phone conversation longer than 20 seconds on the bus. "What? You need me to get you what kind of tampons? What size? No, I'm not too busy to talk. I'm just on a bus where everyone can hear me yelling!" I could never imagine seeing a woman whip out a breast to feed her infant in public. "Is anybody gonna say anything about this public indecency?" Never could I imagine someone intentionally standing in the doorway of a bus, clearly in the way of everyone trying to get in, just to be in the best position to get out quickly. "We're all gonna have to get out. Why is the appointment you need to get to any more important than mine?" And I could never imagine choosing to stand up in a bus that jerks from park to third gear in no time flat, zooms around curves, and fills up every nook and cranny with gas tanks, dozens of chicks in a cardboard box, spilled juice on the floor, kids sitting on laps, and so many plastic bags of groceries, a bus packed with dozens of creatures and inanimate objects fighting for their space in a country where personal space is a fantasy.

Yet no matter how different it is from what I'm used to, I had (and have) no right to judge harshly, to denounce people as ignorant or impolite for the way they behave on a bus. Shame on me for having the word "dumb" on my tongue, or even thinking it. Next time something similar happens, instead of thinking, "That's dumb. Why don't they just sit down?" I'm going to keep my mind open and my eyes discreetly fixed on those people who have me so confused.

I want to judge less and seek to understand more.