Beyond Questions and Answers

Yesterday I had to go and take my GRE test in the city of Cali, which is 125 Km. north from Popayan. After some inadequate weeks of study I got up early and went to face how much algebra and middle school geometry I could remember and process in a few hours. The test itself was not bad at all; I believe I did well, not beyond average but good enough. However, this blog entry is not really about the GRE exam or about my below average knowledge of basic math. This chronicle is to reflect upon different small details that I saw/heard during my ride from and back to Popayan, which could summarize some of my immediate reality.
The ride on the public bus takes approximately two hours from Popayan to Cali. After getting to the bus station in Popayan I got in a crowded bus with only one seat available in the back, so I sat on that empty seat knowing that it was going to be a bumpy ride. I could tell that the lady sat next to me had been crying and was lacking sleep, I did not think it was appropriate to ask her if she was OK, I don’t know why. After a while I understood why she was so upset. She made a phone call on her cell phone and was telling what had happened to somebody in the other end of the line. She starts describing how her uncle, who recently arrived to Cali after a long trip, went out almost unwillingly because he was too tired. After a long night of drinking her uncle wanted to go to bed but his friend wanted him to keep partying with him. Both men starting to push each other until the drunken friend got a pocket knife out and staved the lady’s uncle in the heart. Then she started to talk about how this man, her uncle’s friend, was a retired police man who got shot on duty. Finally, my ride-mate hangs up the phone and falls asleep. I was surprised that I was not as shocked as I thought I would be with a story like the one I just had heard. We finally arrived to Cali and I took a taxi to the testing center, this part of my trip was pretty much uneventful besides from the two times the power went out and we had to reboot the computers to keep going with my GRE test.
Four hours later I left the testing center and got in a bus that would take me straight back to Popayan. However, the trip was not as straight as I was hoping for. After leaving Cali’s bus station the maniac bus driver decided to stop every twenty blocks to pick up passengers and make some extra cash. The bus stopped in a few small towns between Cali and Popayan dropping off and picking up people. One of these towns was Santander de Quilichao in the Cauca state. The bus came to a complete stop in front of a busy area of the town; “pubs” and restaurants everywhere, taxis lined up waiting for customers and street vendors moving up and down the sidewalk. I watched through the window a group of five black men and one woman sitting at a plastic “Rimax” table in front of several filled and empty “Poker” beer bottles. The group was listening to loud mariachi music, which contrasted with the Spanish-speaking romantic ballads from the Seventies that the bus driver had been blasting since we left the bus station. One of the older men was hugging one of the younger ones as if he was congratulating him; all the sudden I was startled by a couple of gray-hair men who were knocking hardly on the bus windows to wake up the lethargic riders so they could buy some of the freshly cut pineapple the old men had to offer. The scene was so simple, clear and full of detail that I wished I had a video camera or something to record such a brief moment, so apparently insignificant to everybody else who was around me.
On my ride from Popayan to Cali I had noticed that there were a couple more military posts on the Panamericana highway than usual. And on my ride back to Popayan I saw that big sign again that says “Viaje tranquilo su ejercito esta en la via” (“Travel with no worries, your army is on the highway”). Indeed, the army is on the highway; on my way to Cali we were stopped and a soldier got in the bus and asked for everybody’s IDs and went to check them with a data-base on his computer, then we were slowed down by other “reten.” On my way to Popayan there were more soldiers standing along the highway and every time I saw them I just kept asking myself, why would a president of a nation with militarized highways would say that we are even closer to reach Peace. Oh, well. As we were entering Popayan, four hours later, I heard a military helicopter flying above the city heading north, which could mean only one thing. A few minutes later after I walked into the house my sister told me that there had been some cross fire in a “municipio” between Popayan and Cali; nothing to worry about, right? I still don’t get it, why do you have to shot each other instead of talking it over and drinking some cold Pokers or eating some juice slides of pineapple.