Transport is a
curious thing in Bhutan. When we lived in the east and in Samtengang it was
always an issue. Nothing was possible
unless you could get a lift and that often involved calling up a venal driver
who wanted more than the going rate because we are ‘chillips’ after all.
Sometimes the best option was summoning up a driver from out of town and paying
double because he would come to you empty. Other times just when you were about
to abandon all plans to go anywhere a colleague, a friend or a complete
stranger would materialize from nowhere and be thrilled to have you on board.
Such is the chaotic and random state of transportation in the kingdom,
especially in the rural areas.
When we moved to
the capital I was initially surprised at the number of people who offered us
lifts. In the first few days at Druk prior to the arrival of students at
school, complete strangers just seemed to have a second sense about the fact
that I was desperate to get to our apartment and back to school in as shorter
time as possible because I needed something trivial from home and no taxi was
in sight but later it became a positive plethora of offers from parents, who
recognized me and knew where I lived and were going my way when they spotted me
walking. Most of these offers were politely turned down as I do genuinely like
the walk home and the opportunity to unwind it affords me. I am also somewhat
obsessed with trying to clock up 10 kilometres a day on my feet so that would
usually motivate me to politely say, “No, but thanks for offering. I really do
enjoy the walk” often to the bitter disappointment of some small child, who I
don’t teach but for whatever reason wanted me in their car. In the pouring rain
or heavy hailstorms or simply in an exhausted state I do accept rides from one
particular colleague who lives nearby and any parent who offers, but generally
as the Chinese like to say, I take the number 11 bus! (Imagine your fingers
walking)
Last year in the
evenings after long late meetings, events or celebrations it was always
protocol to ensure everyone had a ride home before we said our farewells and
transportation for early morning starts was similarity judiciously prearranged.
Here, in Thimphu, taxis abound and it is cheap and convenient to avail of them -
once the 10ks have been achieved that it is! We make it a point to walk
whenever we are unencumbered but still utilize the taxi service regularly.
This week has seen
a bit of a turn in events on the transport front. Yesterday while walking home the younger
sister of a couple of boys, who I do teach, came running across the road to
tell me her mother wanted me to come in their car. I was exhausted and knew I
still had a couple hours of exam paper writing ahead of me and therefore
decided, “OK I will!” I recognized the dimpled smile of little Miss Class IV,
from the school concert last week, in which she bounced her feet off , in my
personal favourite the Chilli Dance. I chatted with the children and got to
hold the new puppy in the car and mum pointed out (in English) that she
couldn’t speak English while I responded also in English that I really couldn’t
speak Dzongkha. The kids enjoyed being translators and having better skills
than two adults. Win, win, win! It wasn’t until I got out of the car that it
occurred to me that there are very few places in the world where you would get
in a car with some you hardly know and yet despite our total commitment to walking, we have done just that individually and together a couple of times already this
year. In fact many BCFers see it as the only transport option. –“Just walk until
someone offers you a lift”
Tonight however on
the way home from school things went a little differently. I was focused on
getting out of the gates and across the bad intersection near the school as I
had already received a message from Ian saying he was there and waiting for me,
so we could walk home together. One tiny, little, gho-clad individual waved and
said “Bye-bye Madam Vicky,” several times and I responded without thinking much
about it. A few moments later I realised this same miniature human and an only
slightly older brother were about to negotiate the crossing near the school. I immediately grasped their hands and got
them across the road and they took off again walking in front of Ian and I and
turning around frequently to see if we were still there. Finally we came to our
senses and stopped them and asked why they were walking alone. It soon transpired
that they should have been waiting at school but had taken off. Luckily the
older one knew his mum’s phone number and it was confirmed on the ID around the
younger one’s neck. I called and a vehicle was dispatched for them as it
started to rain. Little Mr. Confident in PP immediate marched off with Ian’s
umbrella, when it was proffered up and we had to firmly take hold of hands to
ensure they didn’t take to wandering all over the road. A red vehicle
materialized and a mad dash to cross the road was thwarted and a collision
narrowly avoided. We all crossed over the “expressway” as senior students call
it, and handed over the youngsters to mum’s friend, driving mum’s car. We
happily strolled off into the ever-increasing rain but our umbrellas back in our
own possession, with no lift even offered and no one found it at all odd that
two tiny tots were with complete strangers and “chillips” at that.
How nice it is to
live in a society where trust is still evident and it safe to take a lift from
anyone who offers one no matter how old you are!
