Monkeys on Wheels

Johor Bahru, Malaysia

A good Malaysian friend of mine was always scared of monkeys we saw in the forest here. She told me I shouldn't go near them or they would attack. I never believed her, even made fun of her saying they surely also wore face masks and carried guns. Today I learnt with certainty that monkeys in the forest are much less worrying than on the road.

It's been a long trip from Kuala Terengganu to JB (Johor Bahru) in the very south on the border to Singapore. I left from Kuala Terengganu last night. The bus was to run over night from 9 pm due to arrive at JB at around 6 am. When I got to the bus station there was no bus. I wasn't even sure which platform. Afraid to miss it I checked all buses from that company (Transnasional - remember that name!). Nothing. I went to the counter. They told me to keep checking platform 6 or 9 and wait. I waited. It turned 9 and still no bus in sight. A local girl next to me sighed: "That company - always late." But as I learnt there was only that company going from KT to JB. Sigh. I went back to the counter. "The bus is on its way", I was told confidently. Thank God I'd had dinner - or my mood would already have been stinky. It was 9.30 when we finally pulled out of the station. Well, I thought, I minor delay by many standards, as long as we got there.
In the middle of the night the troubles began when I was awakened from my light sleep by the smell of burning plastic or rubber. The driver ignored it for the longest time until, it seemed, another passenger told him. We stopped. It was dark. The vehicle was inspected with an air of professionalism but without light. Smoke was clearly rising from the rear wheel. Here, the smell was also the strongest, eye watering, but there were no flames. Another bus stopped behind us. More drivers joined the inspection. That bus driver had a torch. Did our bus have anything on board? They prepared some newspaper and one of them crawled under the bus. Whatever was wrong they evidently couldn't find it. Hence, everything had to be okay, so everybody was sent back on the bus and we headed off again. Maybe nothing then...
The driver gunned it until about five minutes later - I was just settling in to catch some more sleep - a loud bang shook the bus and then came the sound of something flapping. Apparently "nothing" had just burst us a tyre. And now it was smoking for real. I left the bus again to join the drivers inspecting the damage. The other bus (the one carrying the only functional torch) had left, so we were "guesstimating" the damage, I suspect. Finally, a replacement bus was called. I don't recall the time, it was pitch black night, lightning flashed ominously in the distance. All luggage had to be transferred to the other bus, which was way not as good a vehicle as the first. Well, I thought, as long as it finally gets us to JB, what the heck? After more waiting - the drivers loved chatting - the doors were closed and we headed off.
I chose some music on my mp3-player, settled in again and nodded off quickly. What woke me up was actually not noise but its absence. It took a moment but I realised there was no engine noise but the bus was still rolling. What was going on now? The bus pulled up at the road side. I got up and went to the front finding the driver resting his head on the wheel. Confused I got off and looked around - middle of nowhere - looked at the bus - no obvious damage - checked the time - just 15 minutes after we had set off again. Somehow another passenger who spoke some English guessed my question, his answer made my jaw drop with sheer shock: we had run out of fuel. I was literally speechless - something that doesn't happen often. No more fuel!? There was no humour in the other passenger's face. "These mon-", I began. I wasn't sure if the driver spoke any English. "You monkey", I shouted at him. I hate calling people names but this had to be said. He replied with something that sounded like "babun" (Malay speakers: any idea what he might have said?). "Yeah, baboon", I responded still in shock, "or whatever you prefer." For some time I just paced coming to grips with an unbelievable reality. How could they take over the new vehicle and not check the fuel gauge?? I thought that was the first thing you did before you started the engine. "Get the phone, make a call, get fuel", I told the driver, annoyed now. More pacing followed while we could only wait. Wait for something to happen - the staff were not telling us anything. The other damaged bus actually caught up with us. They got off and started discussing. The problem was, it turned out quickly that we had nothing. No fuel canister, tube, funnel, just a single bucket. Never have I seen such ill-prepared drivers. Our big luck was that a house was nearby and the family there had already got up - it was around 5-something now. They lent us everything we needed - except fuel, I believe they were unwilling to pump fuel out of their vehicles. The boys from the other bus starting pissing around (I really can't find another word for what they did) with what we had. In the end they took the canister and left with the other bus. "Maybe we change back into the other bus", I remember suggesting to the driver at some point. He only patted our new bus and said: "This bus goes to Johor Bahru." He said it with a conviction as if Allah himself had whispered in his ear. So, the waiting began again. Me and another driver could shake our heads at this turn of events. He told me this company was so badly prepared but there was no alternative from Kuala Terengganu to JB. So passed what I believe was an hour at least. I paced, squatted, read my book. In the bus it was hot and stuffy, so I couldn't sleep.
I think the sun had already come up when the other bus returned (events are a bit hazy because I was tired now). They had managed to fill the canister with fuel. Now the three boys - I started referring to them as "monkeys" - began pouring the fuel. I've rarely seen this done so inexpertly even given our limited equipment. They fussed around a lot, giggled, made jokes. Petrol sloshed and in the middle of all that one of them was cooly smoking the stub of his cigarette. I got annoyed with them, they were not just wasting time, smoking around petrol was barking mad! I waited at a safe distance. I suddenly had the image in my head of the one bus that could take us to Johor Bahru going up in a ball of fire - along with everyone's luggage. "We'll need a pump", the other passenger was saying but at the time I didn't understand what he meant. "When there's no more fuel it's very difficult to start." I was just relieved that we had fuel, we were actually going on. Weren't we?
I soon found out what my new friend meant: when fuel runs dry it initially has to be manually pumped into the engine. Neither the monkeys nor the driver seemed to know this when the engine refused to start despite fuel in the tank. Is there a mechanic in the house??
There was. Another passenger. We were being too lucky. First the kind family and now this passenger with knowledge of engines. He showed them what to do while the monkeys looked on. So, they pumped, tried the ignition. Nothing. This cycle started repeating. The mechanic started checking other parts of the exposed engine. I began thinking back to Laos where everyone in the bus seemed to be proficient in mechanics and a wheel change took a mere 15 minutes. It was around 8 am now. We should have been in Johor Bahru by then. In fact, we were still more than 200 kilometers from our destination. At least three more hours of driving - after we had got the engine running. I was getting hungry. Watching them vainly trying to start the dead engine just got me annoyed again. Finally, the little shop across the road opened and I went to buy a pack of Milo and some Tiger biscuits. I told the auntie that ran the shop about our plight. She laughed. It was laughable. In the end I told the driver I was heading to the nearby rest station to get a proper breakfast - I had heard they had rice and maybe nasi lemak. I guess, it turned out other people were hungry, too, so we took the damaged bus there driving slowly. It was almost 10 now.
The rest station had some nasi lemak and roti and we returned in slightly better spirits. Me and the other passenger, a guy from Nepal working in Malaysia, still agreed the incompetence of the Transnasional staff was at least legendary. They could have called another replacement bus and then attempted to fix the fuel problem. Like that we might have been on our way. When we got back they were still trying hard and failing. I took a nap in the other bus - it had a working air conditioning unit, at least.
Finally, my Nepalese friend (I beg forgiveness, his name has escaped me) nudged me and said we were going. Another solution had been found at last - they had called a professional mechanic. It seemed like magic but he seemed to have no trouble getting the engine to start. Still, half asleep I stumbled back to the other bus (lost count of buses yet - I had) and - when? 11 am? 12 pm? - we were at long last on our way again. The driver gunned it so hard that I was fearing another breakdown. I dozed. Then we reached Mersing and - guess what - were made to change buses again. "You guys are a pack of monkeys." I could find no other goodbye for our driver. When this bus, the third I had been on that day on that trip, finally reached Johor Bahru's Larkin Station it was two in the afternoon. I had hoped to spend the day looking around Johor Bahru again before catching my flight but now there was only time for a late lunch and a taxi to the airport. We had been eight (8!) hours late.