(click for close-up)
“Alite? Alite, eniwan? Alite?... clea clea…
“Mosquito valley? mosquito eniwan?… flow…
“Stoa? stoa? stoa?... flow…
“Rain tree?” - Psssss comes a noise from the back of the bus - “Rain tree stap”.
And thus it continues.
“Geology? Geology? No sign, flow…
“Green tank? Green tank?” – a passenger imperceptibly raises an eyebrow a couple of millimetres – “Stanabae lo green tank. Stap lo green tank” – and the bus stops, letting two little school kids shelling and eating fresh peanuts clamber down.
The stops continue. Often the conductors don’t bother calling out the names of some of the minor stops. But occasionally, on a Friday evening perhaps, you get a fellah who really goes for it, calling out every stop in all its insignificant glory …
Motel…
Lightpost…
Red house…
Lo bend…
Cross road…
Small Axe…
Borderline…
Lightpost…
Red house…
Lo bend…
Cross road…
Small Axe…
Borderline…
(And now we turn off Lengakiki ridge and begin to descend through Mbokona valley)
Telekom…
DBSI…
King’s Base…
DBSI…
King’s Base…
(And finally, the last stop comes, not really needing identification, but usually getting it)
“Central, Central, stap”
The smaller routes up the ridges off the main road, like the one to my house, have the best names as far as I’m concerned, classic in their simplicity. On the main drag along the water there are also some interesting ones, however, and some which require a bit of historical knowledge to understand. For example ‘leibalaen’ had always puzzled me, until one day I asked a fellow (elderly) passenger about it, and he told me that during the British colonial days the authorities had traditionally housed the local government staff in that area, hence ‘labourline’. But my favourite is ‘faeahaus’, a stop bang in the centre of town next to a vacant lot where long tufty grass grows and where a family has erected a small leafhut for their home. What of the mystery firehouse? Was there a fire brigade depot there at some time or the other? The explanation, I eventually learnt, was that the firehouse was/is a building that burnt down many years ago. Like a rock star that dies young, the building has gained everlasting fame through its dramatic and premature end. Firehouse indeed.
4 comments:
Oh yes I remember it well -it seems like only yesterday, the daily bus into town. It certainly beats the 214. Is my bandana wearing friend still talking about the waet-woman who paid in Ozzie dollars instead of Solomon? Probably kept him in betel nuts for a year.
Good to have you back blogging!
And who could forget our friend lil' Leo Blair?! xx
Mone tufala,
Me save bae iutufala laekem this fala pos.
But bus blong olo blo Emily (pikinini Leo) hemi still buggarup. Mi lookim hem long Aloha last weeken Em, and me lanem hem no save diringim... hem mus gudfala Christian boy so mi tingim Emily bae spoilem hem tumas.
Buy speaking of Leo, I went away camping/diving this weekend and we dived one B52 bomber plane near Aruligo... where you get in the water is the house where we rested for half an hour after breaking down. The lady of the house is a one-handed Indian/Fijian/Waetan/Guale with 10 sweet grandchildren. We also dived Bonege 1, and i had a serious spiritual encounter with a turtle, which I accidentally bumped into resting 30 metres down, upon which he circled around me 3 times, less than 2 metres away. Boom!
Ale, xxxx
Bro! It was on Bonege 1 that I made my underwater debut. Think I too shnuggled up to said turtle. Fred yeah?
Can't believe their van STILL buggarup. Feel a bit guilty... xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
ps- I suspected Leo as a backslider myself, not quite the gudfala xtian boy. Don't you remember the bettel and clove cigs him and friend were chuffing on as soon as they were our of daddy's eyeline!
Post a Comment