Getting a Ride
Finding an open space on the footpath next to the main road, I search amongst the oncoming vehicles for mini-buses. They are not too hard to find as over half of the traffic moving along the road is mini-buses. On their windscreens are dozens of signs with various names upon them. Destinations.
Mini-bus stopped to let someone out with the caller standing in the street.
New to La Paz and without knowledge of where the destinations are located, I search for the one destination that I know will get me where I need to be. Ceja. Right now I am “down the hill” as the locals call it, in the city of La Paz, and I want to get back “up the hill” to El Alto where I am staying. Ceja takes me in this direction.
A mini-bus appears with “Ceja” in the window and I raise my arm to try and get it to stop. It doesn’t, but continues down the road. As it passes I can see why. It is filled to the brim with people, without any further space for another. I am glad that it has passed me.
The Destination Announcers
After another minute of waiting I see another bus and flag it down. The door slides open and I climb aboard, finding one of the few remaining seats. A young man who had stepped out of the van climbs back in and slides the door shut with a bang. He then leans out of the open window in the sliding door and calls out to the people on the street.
“Ceja por la autopista, un boliviano, Ceja. Ceja por la autopista, un boliviano, Ceja.” His repetitive cry reaches both inside and outside the van. While a seat remains his job is to find people to fill them. Other minivans that pass us also have their announcers who are crying out the destinations of their bus.
The cries are not very distinguishable but after so many repetitions it is possible to make out what they are saying. Think of an excited sports commentator with half of his mouth stitched up. For example, the cry for Ceja would sound something more like this if it was spoken very quickly, “Ceapopista viano eja.”
Finding More Passengers
As we drive along, the driver slows down near groups of people, while the announcer calls out in an even louder voice. He gets to rest his voice only while there are no people around, which in La Paz is not very often.
When a person indicates that they want a ride, the announcer tells the driver, “one to get on” then slides open the door and gets out. The person climbs aboard and takes any remaining seat, with the announcer climbing in after them again. He is also the one that collects the fees from each of us.
When completely full, the announcer climbs in and shuts the door, remaining standing until his seat becomes available again. In these small mini-buses the low roof often means that they remain hunched over. At least they can rest their voice until somebody gets off again.
Traditionally Bolivian
Inside, to my left are three Bolivian ladies in full traditional dress, their rounded bowler hats sitting lightly on their heads, two full plaited plaids running down their backs, and the colourful clothes and blankets that typify this country.
The younger of the three carries a young baby in her arms, with only part of its little face showing through the multiple layers of cloth in which it is wrapped. It lays there sleeping blissfully, unaware of the mayhem in the traffic around us.
The Mayhem That Surrounds
Meanwhile our van negotiates its way through the traffic, pushing into any space large enough to accept it, and forcing its way into places that are not. Beeping horns announce both available space in the van and that the van is about to enter a space that does not yet exist, depending on how it is beeped.
Personal space for drivers here is down to about three centimetres. They all drive very relaxed until this space is breached, at which time either the horn is beeped to let the other know that they will not give them space, or they casually move their van slowly over to give the space needed by the other.
Amazingly, the drivers never seem to get angry about this sort of movement. It is normal and happens every day and all day. It is something that is both around them and that they do. The traffic continues to move and there seems to be no major accidents, although at only 20 or 30 kms per hour there is more time to avoid them too.
Getting Off
After climbing up the “hill” I indicate my desire to get off by naming the place and saying that I will “stay” there to the announcer. He then tells this to the driver who will stop the van. If I am burried deep inside the van, then everyone in my way has to also get off to allow me off, and then can climb back aboard.
As soon as I am out, taxi drivers and announcers direct their attention my way to see if I will take their services. Within moments they realise that I won’t and look around for other potential passengers.
I am close to home now, but wander over to another mini-bus and climb aboard. This will take me much closer to my destination and from there it will be a lot easier to walk.
