No parada

I think I can..I think I can...I think I can!

We were literally chanting the bus up the hill yesterday. It was moving forward, which was good. But it was moving inch..by inch..by inch.

It took at least 3 minutes to pass each house, and we saw the neighborhood watchyman chuckling as it took at least 3 minutes to pass by him. The construction workers stopped to lean on their shovels and stare at the bus full of gringos, roaring its engine and creeping up the hill as if being slowly lured by a greater cause.

My housemates and I sat and surveyed the situation; we quickly came to the conclusion that the bus would never be able to summit the steep incline of our street. But we were going slow enough now, that we could easily just step off the bus. The bus could keep crawling along at this slow rate, dropping off the next set of teachers, as long as it didn’t stop.

“No necesitas parada.” (trying to say: You don’t need to stop.)

Then, we felt the bus lurch, and we were thrown down the aisle towards the door. Everyone groaned. The bus was now stalled. (Puchika)

My housemates and I scurried up our hill, ashamed that it was us who caused the halt in the bus’s momentum. Halfway up, we glanced back and saw to our surprise that the bus had somehow found a way to revv its engine and, not only make it to the top of the next street, but turn a corner, which, if you know Honduran buses and streets, can be a feat in and of itself. We cheered it on and waved to the rest of the teachers, on their way home.

**Epilogue: The bus was unable to complete its route, but thankfully, the school has a multitude of buses to dispatch and come rescue the broken ones.