Its freaking hot in the desert. The school bus is like all other school busses except its off white. Perhaps it is safer to say it has no colour. Anyhow, its just after midday and the mother has appeared on my stoep. She does not speak English and my halting Arabic is of little use. Our conversation is limited to smiling and nodding.
The bus can be heard in the distance as it turns of the main road and onto the gravel. The chanting rhythm of Arabic music is screaming down the side roads, scaring even the biggest goat of the herd. The camel who has developed a fondness for the plants growing by my neighbours water leak looks up and blinks disinterestedly. They really have seen it all. The chanting now becomes an unpleasant earsplitting vibration in my ears. My windows vibrate as the driver throws the bus around the corner and comes to a screeching halt in front of our gate. We are momentarily blinded by the red dust.
The driver opens the doors. "Salaam" he shouts above the noise. He waves and smiles. As a foreigner I'm wondering if all Arabic children are deaf by the time they are 12. Is this normal? There are mostly big brown eyes peering at me. I'm not sure how many little faces there are, but its a lot. A host of papers, tissues, cooldrink cans, tin foil gets thrown out of the windows of the bus. The children are screaming and laughing loudly trying to talk to each other. Finally here she is. She really is quite stunningly beautiful. She is only 7. She walks down the steps carrying a far-to-big pink school satchel. She smiles at me first, dutifully, then runs off upstairs to her apartment followed by her mother.
The bus driver gives me a final wave, the red dust bellows up as he fires up the engine and off he goes. The music still blaring until he drives around the big hole in the road and onto the main road.
Silence at last. I go inside. My children have got headphones on. Their silence deafening.
The bus can be heard in the distance as it turns of the main road and onto the gravel. The chanting rhythm of Arabic music is screaming down the side roads, scaring even the biggest goat of the herd. The camel who has developed a fondness for the plants growing by my neighbours water leak looks up and blinks disinterestedly. They really have seen it all. The chanting now becomes an unpleasant earsplitting vibration in my ears. My windows vibrate as the driver throws the bus around the corner and comes to a screeching halt in front of our gate. We are momentarily blinded by the red dust.
The driver opens the doors. "Salaam" he shouts above the noise. He waves and smiles. As a foreigner I'm wondering if all Arabic children are deaf by the time they are 12. Is this normal? There are mostly big brown eyes peering at me. I'm not sure how many little faces there are, but its a lot. A host of papers, tissues, cooldrink cans, tin foil gets thrown out of the windows of the bus. The children are screaming and laughing loudly trying to talk to each other. Finally here she is. She really is quite stunningly beautiful. She is only 7. She walks down the steps carrying a far-to-big pink school satchel. She smiles at me first, dutifully, then runs off upstairs to her apartment followed by her mother.
The bus driver gives me a final wave, the red dust bellows up as he fires up the engine and off he goes. The music still blaring until he drives around the big hole in the road and onto the main road.
Silence at last. I go inside. My children have got headphones on. Their silence deafening.
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