coldhearted scientist وداد

Now it is time to boycott the HORNA bus company and write letters complaining of their service to the newspaper La Industria in Trujillo, Peru, for their complete disregard for human life and dignity. [Upon proofreading: that sentence does not scan in English, but the syntax works well enough in Spanish, so I will let it fly.]

On the way from Huamachuco to Trujillo, just past the turnoff to Otuzco, on a winding, two lane mountain road, ON A CURVE, our bus decided to pass the truck ahead of it. This, of course, meant destroying the engine of the car which was coming uphill in the opposite direction, which only did not fall down the ravine because there was, unusually enough, a guard rail to stop it. Fortunately there were no injuries.

It appeared that our bus, allegedly owned by one of the fancier companies, was not insured. The owner of the company said by telephone that he would take no responsibility for the accident or the fate of the passengers. It took over two hours for police to arrive, and when they did arrive, they did very little. After five and a half hours a bus came which could take us and our baggage to the right agency in Trujillo, were we arrived at midnight, missing our connection to Lima. (The passengers already on the bus warned us that they had had to help push start it in Huamachuco.)

The Trujillo agency said a bus was scheduled for us but none came, so we were left after midnight in dangerous parts of town trying to embark ourselves on passing buses which were going on to Lima. “LIMA LIMA twelve dollars one-two!” shouted the drivers’ assistants. The bus I was able to get on only went as far as Fiori, on the Panamericana Norte, and when I called home to say where I was the entire household began trembling because of what things are like in Fiori, and said I must board a taxi instantly no matter what the cost, so I did, and it cost eleven dollars, one-one.

There is a lot more I could say about this colorful and chilling adventure, which would illustrate the utter irresponsibility of the director of HORNA. Never take an HORNA bus. Take FUENTES to Huamachuco, even though it only goes at night. Take AGREDA, even though their buses are old, just to get back at HORNA and their owner’s utterly irresponsible attitude. Speak ill of HORNA.

I am irritated at the company’s director but also at the drivers’ supercilious and condescending attitudes. They accused the passengers of having caused the accident by telling the driver to go faster (a lie – there is a door between the driver and us, and it was locked, and nobody talked to the driver). They accused us of not being understanding enough of his situation as a working man. They denigrated as irrational and unreasonable our request that another bus be sent to pick us up. This, by the way, is one example of how coastal Peruvians wielding a small amount of power treat Peruvians from the mountains and it is u.n.a.c.c.e.p.t.a.b.l.e.

Yes, there was much more to the situation and it had its fun and amusing parts, but this post exists solely to say boycott HORNA! I will explain the situation further in comments if you wish, and describe the colorful, sweet and funny aspects of the entire scene at another time.

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One of the bus drivers (not the one who caused accident) realized I was foreign and tried vaguely to flirt with me. Where was I from? Why was I up in this part of the country? Que me intentara llegar ese tipo, o que quisiera hacer vida social en aquella situación, después de haberse comportado de una forma claramente despectiva con los pasajeros durante tres horas, era el colmo – I was mad. I said, I have come from Brazil to see the land of Vallejo, about which you would not know and which if you did know you would not respect, because you so obviously hate Peruvians and Peru!

Some people got it and others didn’t, and I was mean, but I could not stand the way this bus driver had been speaking to us. I was horrified that the company’s owner had merely washed his hands of the matter, and that both the police and many of the passengers seemed so sure that the company would win any judgment against the car we had hit, because it was a company. (I suppose it is that they know they are not citizens, while I, a delusional American, think everyone should feel like a citizen and claim the corresponding rights.) What is your name? I asked the driver. He gave his first name. Juan Carlos what? What? Juan Carlos what? Oh, you want my last name. Legazpi. Juan Carlos Legazpi. Are you proud of your job and of the company you work for? Well … I guess not, said he. Fair enough, but still I say, authoritarian people váyanse a la conchaetumadre, que me las pelen, I can spit out as many macho words as you.

Axé.