Fresh off the bus

We survived the bus ride from the capital to Bere! Praying for travel mercies here is no joke. The driver's goal seems to be to make the fastest time possible without regard for safety. A bus is one of the larger items on the roadway so anything smaller must yield: pedestrians, push or ox carts, scooters, motos and autos. Only larger trucks and buses or animal herds would give the driver slight pause and then only with the horn blaring.  The driver made very adequate use of his horn for the entire seven hour journey. This trip was made in a very dilapidated and dirty bus; two seats on left and one seat on right with a folding jump seat to complete an entire row. The padding was minimal with tears and many jump seats were broken or sat at tilted angles, including the one directly if front of me. I rode with my knees on either side of the seat in front of me or scrunched up with my feet on my seat. Our family occupied the back row; we squished ourselves into the four seats with 5 carry-on bags minding no storage under the seats. Every seat on the bus was sold. During our wait on the bus while they stacked and strapped luggage on top, a variety of vendors would shove their arms into the windows displaying their wares: bananas, soap, tissue, candy, water in plastic bags, unknown fruits and vegetables, eggs, clothes, packaged cookies and more. The bus station was teeming with people: countless vendors, ticketed riders and families sending them off, official employees and unofficial workers hoping for tips for assisting with baggage. It was a ramshackle building with an orange dirt parking lot in complete chaos. Only half of our cases were granted space being tied on the roof and the residual were left laying in the dirt (essentially we paid excessive airline fees only to have them abandoned at a bus station.) Not to worry, they used a black sharpie marker & wrote directly onto our suitcases & duffle bags: L'Hopital Bere.  I looked back out the window as we pulled away saying a prayer over the cases in hopes of them following us soon but really thinking that they are goners.  Thankfully, they arrived 3 days after us, covered in orange dust but intact. We arrived in the same fashion but also sodden with sweat and achy from our cramped seating. The last hour of the bus ride was on dirt so the dust, as we flew down the road, blew in through holes on the floor and sides of the bus. I hadn't been this filthy since a young teen working in my father's fields. I also have never been so relived for a journey's end. Thank you for your prayers. Please continue to lift us up as we transition into our new life here. Specifically: adapting and sleeping in the heat, the container with household goods still on its voyage to Cameroon, and learning the language(s).
Love,
Kim, Mason, Grace, Emmie


110 degrees & 2 girls sleeping on Mason's lap :-)