summary for
The bus didn't leave after an hour, it didn't leave after two hours, not after ten. It stood waiting for
more passengers to fill it. That blew my change of getting across the longer half of the desert by
the cool of the night. After twelve hours, I felt as exhausted as I would have felt from travelling, or
perhaps the efforts of travelling nowhere was harder. When the sun set and darkness settled, we
passengers lay down to sleep in the bus.
Dawn came and the heat started to intensify. The only cheerful thing was the bus itself, gaudily
decorated with shinny tin cut-outs, while the front was emblazoned like a shield with multi-
coloured glass reflectors, dazzling in the sun. Buses generally try to out display each other.
Finally, the engine started, but we drove round and round the town for another hour looking for
more passengers, until every seat was taken. At last, we set off across the desert, but within half an
hour the motor conked out, we had run out of fuel. I felt slightly defeated. Surely in the twelve-
hour wait, the driver could have found some fuel. So there we sat, waiting for another bus to come
and perhaps give us some fuel.
A pick-up truck passed and our driver went with it to look for diesel. Two more hours elapsed
before we were on the move. We trundled for twenty kilometres, then stopped, because two buses
were leaning against each other and blocking the track. One had a broken axle and had fallen, or
been propped against the other. We stopped and the ropes were attached to our bus, so it could pull
the broken one upright. And since we had by this time lent our jacks and tools, we stayed until
their repairs were done. It was a blazing hot day in a flat empty glaing desert, but I was impressed
by the way men automatically helped each other, and women gave their water to those who needed
it more.
Then next 150 kilometres of dirt, the road was very corrugated, then we reached moth-eaten
tarmac. The passengers bounced and swayed over the bumps in the road. Their synchronised
lurching almost fitted the music on the bus cassette player and looked oddly like a dance.
Dusk brought a sandstorm; a Baluchi passed leading the camels, laden with bits of root for
firewood; most of my fellow-passengers were Baluchis and Afghans, with only five Pakistani
townies. I allied myself with their three married women. On every long bus journey, I make an ally
of some suitable friend or couple. As a woman, it saves trouble.
Answers
Answer:
That blew my change of getting across the longer half of the desert by
the cool of the night. After twelve hours, I felt as exhausted as I would have felt from travelling, or
perhaps the efforts of travelling nowhere was harder. When the sun set and darkness settled, we
passengers lay down to sleep in the bus.
Dawn came and the heat started to intensify. The only cheerful thing was the bus itself, gaudily
decorated with shinny tin cut-outs, while the front was emblazoned like a shield with multi-
coloured glass reflectors, dazzling in the sun. Buses generally try to out display each other.
Finally, the engine started, but we drove round and round the town for another hour looking for
more passengers, until every seat was taken. At last, we set off across the desert, but within half an
hour the motor conked out, we had run out of fuel. I felt slightly defeated. Surely in the twelve-
hour wait, the driver could have found some fuel. So there we sat, waiting for another bus to come
Answer:
how was the bus decorated