Sitting on a metal bench in the shade of a towering tree, Mariano and I chatted about how good it felt to have God’s peace within us. On this particularly calm day, I decided to take the free bus home from the town where Mariano lives instead of the one that costs 50 pesos. This way, I could save some money and we would have more time together.
Mariano had taken this big yellow school bus from his city to San Pedro on multiple occasions, and he knew the driver well. I had taken the bus by myself before, but not the free one. However, I knew enough Spanish to ask for help if I needed to. The bus driver said he was passing through Quisqueya first, before heading to San Pedro. I had gone to this village when I went to the Dominican Republic in the past and it was the home of the school which captured my heart. We passed the empty school building twice and turned down the road to San Pedro. Twilight was setting in as I fought to stay awake.
Then we stopped. In the road. And by "we," I mean the driver and I because I was the only passenger at this point. There was nothing but endless trees and a broken down pickup truck. It was 6:30 PM and nearly dark. Curfew was at 7 and I would barely have enough time to walk to my apartment from the bus stop.
Why did we come to a halt? From what I gathered from his speedy Spanish, the driver said there was some sort of problem with something somewhere and some other man would drive me to San Pedro. Okay. So a stoutly man came and sat down in the driver’s seat with a liquor bottle in a paper bag, before driving down the long, long road away from Quisqueya with nothing but trees and darkness.
After about a minute of drinking and driving, he pulled over on the side of the road to make a phone call. I felt very confused and needed to know what was going on, so I asked him what he was doing.
The look on this man’s face made it clear he had absolutely no idea there was a woman sitting in the fourth row of his bus. How did he not see me? He just gaped at me with his mouth wide open as I began telling him I need to go to San Pedro. San Pedro de Macoris. San Pedro. Tengo que ir a San Pedro.
Nothing. His eyes were glazed over from the questionable liquid in the bottle he was holding. Immediately, I called Mariano and quickly explained how I was still on the bus and we were parked on the side of the road and I had no idea where we were and some man I didn’t know was driving and he didn’t understand what I was saying. So, I handed my phone to the guy and Mariano told him to go to San Pedro. He nodded his head and started driving.
Then he turned around to go BACK TOWARD Quisqueya.
No, no, no, no, no! I knew we weren't traveling in the right direction, but I was at a lost for words. He didn’t understand me or Mariano or the first bus driver who must have mentioned there was an American on the bus. He had to have said something about me, right?
It was pitch black now and 15 minutes past curfew. I had no clue where I was or how to get home. I couldn’t get off. I didn’t know what was happening. Also, my phone lost signal.
The only thing I could do was try to call Jenn, the elementary school principal, which took at least five minutes because the call kept getting dropped. I did my best to remain as calm as possible as I explained, “I’m alone. I’m on a school bus. I don’t know where I am. The bus driver doesn’t understand me. I don’t know what to do.”
At this point, the driver stopped yet again to dispose of his empty bottle, so I handed him my phone. I have no idea what she said to him, but he immediately turned back around and headed for San Pedro.
I could breathe again. I was almost home, even though it was long after curfew. Jenn was going to pick me up near the bus stop and drive me to my apartment. I wasn’t going to die on a big yellow school bus.
Then outside the city, just when I thought I was almost home, we stopped at a gas station, and the driver got up and left. He just walked off the bus without a word. I contemplated whether or not to go into the gas station in the middle of nowhere because surely it would have been better than the bus I was never going to ride again.
Before I could decide what to do, the first bus driver and his wife appeared. Where did they come from?! I just wanted to go home, but they didn’t know where to take me, so I called Jenn again and she described where to go. Finally, the bus headed toward San Pedro once more.
And thankfully, I made it home. It was almost an hour after curfew, but I made it.
I still don’t know what problem prompted the first bus driver to leave, and I don't know why the second guy was on the way to his house without realizing I was there. Perhaps he couldn't understand what I was saying because he thought he was seeing a ghost or something.
In any case, this was the first day I felt like myself since I arrived in the Dominican Republic two months ago. Little beads of sweat didn’t appear on my arms and face as often as they used to. I got an electric insect racket to kill the tiny mosquitoes in my apartment, and I didn’t constantly think about flying cockroaches, flies, mosquitoes, or gnats anymore. I could relax.
Then I got on a school bus and my peace evaporated. Which made me realize that I was letting each of those things take a bit of my happiness away. Having joy and being content in every circumstance is a choice. This doesn't mean I should have done nothing as the guy drove to his house because then I would have spent the night on a school bus, but it means we can choose peace in any situation.
"Don’t fret or worry. Instead of worrying, pray... Before you know it, a sense of God’s wholeness, everything coming together for good, will come and settle you down..."
Philippians 4:6-7
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