The Sumo reservation we made yesterday was worthless as our
Sumo had mechanical problems and wasn’t going. Getting our money back was the first issue. A moment of expressed frustration
scored us a local willing to get involved and before long he had gotten our
deposit back, taken us to the local bus station, and bought us seats (at
assured Indian prices.) We bought
him tea and sweets during the two hours we waited for our bus and learned he
was another of the Christians that dot the Shillong area, Christians that
always ask you if you are Christian and if you are born again. All three of us have to soft pedal that
question; we agree on our distrust
of organized religion.
At 10am we were on our way east through the Jaintia and Garo
Hills of Meghalaya to Silchar, in Assam.
This was a slog, at first up and down over cool highlands (through miles
and miles of truck-clogged roads) and later through dense, lush, humid and close
jungle, this after descending to a river crossing and east over the flats of
Assam. Ann and I took the left
side, Jim a seat on the right, and we talked, read, or gawked out the window
while listening to The Real Group and “Democracy Now!” podcasts. Shrines dotted the way, both for
highway deaths and for general Hindu venerations.
Our trip should have taken 9 hours but instead took 13,
depositing us in shitty Silchar, really only a transit hub (but then that’s all
we were using it for) at 11pm. Finding
a hotel was a tedious affair, first an auto-rickshaw ride, then a visit to the
police station, and finally a walk down streets so dark that the puddles and
cow shit were hard to avoid. On
our third try we finally scored the worst room I have yet had but, we happily
settled in amongst the 2-inch long roaches and dripping faucets. In the morning I found that my windows
had no glass in them; just as well
that I had taken time to put up the mosquito net. Also, looking down from those same windows, I saw men
eating, washing and cleaning automatic weapons. Military? I
couldn’t really tell.
