This is the Minibus

I don't have anything too exciting to report from today, but I've been meaning to tell you all about transportation here for a while. Therefore, I give you: the minibus.

The minibus is the most common form of public transportation here in Nicaragua. You may not believe it after reading this post, but they’re surprisingly efficient! Here’s how they work:

The first step in any minibus journey is picking the bus. When you round the corner to the bus station, people will start trying to pick it for you: “Masayamasayamasayaaaa!” “Rivas! Rivas! Rivas!” “Diriambadiriambadiriambaaaa!” “CatarinaMasatepeCatarinaMasatepe!” The men – and a lot of boys – yell in your general direction as if you came to the bus station with no particular goal in mind, ready to jump on the bus whose representative has the most convincing screech.

Anyway, you ignore them and walk past the school buses toward the fifteen-passenger vans. You’re hoping for a shiny silver one with a high ceiling and your destination city printed neatly on the front, but more often than not there’s an empty space where you think your bus should be. You sigh because now you have to pay attention to the people yelling destinations. Somehow, they know this as soon as you do and start speaking directly to you, more urgently than before but thankfully not yelling: “Rivas?” they say. (Or Masatepe, or Diriamba, or Managua.) When you’ve only just started to nod, there’s a wave and a whistle; suddenly, your minibus has been summoned from the gravel lot and pulls right up in front of you, ready to go.

Ha. If you’re lucky, it’s one of the shiny ones, but that’s unlikely. Many of the minibuses – except the Managua ones – are roughly 25 years old and consist of more rust than they do anything else. The upholstery is holey, of course, the bumpers hang off, most have speedometers that died long ago and there are things growing in the window sills. Still, if you’re the first ones there, you get to pick your seats. (Like I said before, pick the back seat so that you don’t have to share sweat with strangers.) Once inside, you can settle into the heavy, stale heat to wait.

And wait.

In Canada, buses run on schedules. In Nicaragua, buses run based on how much money the driver is going to make out of the trip. This means that while it’s exciting to get there first and pick the best seat, it’s also frustrating because the bus doesn’t leave until it’s full.

Let’s talk about “full.” First, fill the bus so that there is one person on every seat. (Oh wait, did you try to put on a seat belt? How quaint. There are none.) Some buses have an extra seat that folds out into the little aisle while others have rickety wooden stools that they set down for unfortunate latecomers. Once every seat is taken, it's time to get creative! There are two people required to run a minibus: one to drive and one to take money, hang out the door yelling, and play human Tetris. This second person will poke, prod and push you until you're squished up against a person you've never met in a position you never thought was possible. Don't believe me? When this photo was taken, I was sitting backwards on a little bench with my knees between someone else's; John was sitting on my lap.

So once you think the Tetris is finally done (just wait), the minibus will pull out and you may think to yourself, "This bus is going to fall apart before we get to the highway." It may sound that way, but so far this hasn't happened to us! Once the bus is properly filled up, the ride itself is rather uneventful, generally because people are too squished together to actually move. Once in a while, the bus will pull over and there will be an almost imperceptible collective groan as people wonder - and Jason yells - "How?! How do you think you're going to fit any more people on this bus?!" Still, that door man has skills and he'll make it happen.

Partway through the sticky, stinky, sweaty journey, said door guy will ask for everybody's money, which is a challenge in some cases because when you're crammed into such a small place, it can be difficult to get to your pocket. Still, it's at this moment that taking the minibus becomes worth it: it's hard to say no to paying two dollars for a two-hour trip!