Borderlines

The road was a black line, dividing the red earth in two. I could see acacia trees in the distance, but no baobabs.
It was hot in the bus, and everyone seemed to be speaking at the same time in fast Swahili. I had learnt to recognise the language but I still could not hear anything remotely familiar in the intonations. I had gotten used to the interminable bus journeys (pole-pole: slowly, in time. The national motto), and to tuning out the loud conversations.
I was counting baobabs. They were a lot less common than the acacia trees but they took my breath away. Their gigantic trunks and small tops made them look fat and jolly, but they commanded respect. They looked over the savannah, rulers in their realm, watching and remembering.
The bus driver honked the horn, and I looked up to see children jumping off the road. That I had not gotten used to: the roads were narrow, full of cars, people, animals; but motor vehicles never slowed down, they just honked and hoped that everyone would make it to safety.
Getting off the bus took a long time. Our bags had somehow ended up at the very back, even though we had explained where we were going three times.
-Arusha?- I asked apprehensively as the bus driver was getting on, he turned around and smiled and pointed at a wooden cabin.
Two border officials were inside, one stretched on his chair, his feet on the desk, the other behind him, hunched over his hands. As we walked in, they both straightened up and looked at us questioningly.
-Where are you going?- the one who had had his feet on the desk asked, in English.
-Arusha- I replied. -From Nairobi?
He nodded.
-The bus will be here at 3:30. -he said, then stretched back over the desk.
The other man stood up and walked over to us, asking for our passports and telling us to wait outside.
After an hour, the man returned, with our stamped passports in hand. It was close to 4 PM.
-Sorry, when is the bus to Arusha coming?- I asked.
He looked at me, surprised.
-3:30 -he said, matter-of-factly.
I took some water out, and sat back down.
-Are we sure the bus is coming?- I asked my companions. Neither answered.
I took my book out. Children had gathered around us by now, laughing when we spoke to them, but refusing to reply. They seemed to play a game of who could get closest without being spoken to.
It was almost 6PM. I went back inside to ask about the bus.
-Pole-pole.
I sighed, walking outside. In the distance, a baobab was silhouetted against the huge setting African sun.