Conduits

It was near midnight when my friend and I came upon a group of older men in a dark part of a bus terminal. Alarm bells instinctively went off as we draw near them but we had little choice. We had to find our way.

Hours before, we missed the last coach service from Singapore to Melacca. Since then, we squeezed with other commuters, boarded three different buses at different places, all of which we were told would go to Melacca but ditched us somewhere instead. The last one brought us to this terminal.

Panic scaled a notch higher when the guys told us that the bus going to Melacca is not until morning. We looked around and true enough the terminal was deserted except for a few travelers who seemed to settle on the benches for the night. Food stalls were closed, no hawkers, and definitely no buses ready to leave. Either we find a nook where we could wait till morning, or… One of the guys was persistent in urging us to take a cab which will cost about 300 ringgit. It was a steep alternative on our budget but given the daunting prospect of having to spend the night at the terminal, we took it.

The driver was a huge guy, maybe in his forties, flabby around the belly, had a mustache and sweaty. When we saw him, we deemed the terminal could be the safer choice after all. But we reluctantly stepped in to the pungent smell of dried human sweat, and that of minty balm. There was a blanket and pillow at the back, clues that he may have slept there sometimes. He said very little, just looked at the hotel’s address, nodded, and said that he will take us there. Did he nod a little too quickly? How could we be certain he’s taking us to Melacca? Once or twice I caught him glancing at us through the mirror which intensified the apprehension some more. Was he waiting for us to fall asleep? There were two of us but in our midget sizes, what were our odds against his bulk? For most of the two-hour drive, we fought exhaustion, uttered prayers, and dared not sleep.

There were no sights to get excited about, just long stretches of roads and the passing headlights of occasional vehicles. Imagine our relief when along with tarpaulins of greetings for end of Ramadan, we finally saw - Welcome to Melacca.

We asked his name as we unloaded our backpacks. He was reluctant but finally Asmad gave in to have our photo taken with him. He smiled. We smiled back. We arrived. We then understood him to be a man of few words.