25th February 2013
15:30 PM to 1600 PM
I walked to La Gare Victoria in Port Louis in a scorching sun of 15:30 PM and I was thirsty. After few minutes of walk I saw an oasis, it was the 174 Rose Hill Transport Express bus to Rose Hill. I rushed to the red bus and found myself the best window seat. Of course, I had to sit on the left side in the sun.
No matter how much I was sweating but the view was awesome. For my 29rs window seat, I could smell the perfume of “pistache griller”, the one with red skin. The peanuts seller was the one only shouting with that typical folklore hawker accent…“pistache”… no, actually it was “pistass” . Next to him there was a pudding seller, which many loved to eat because the little hand made aquarium was already empty and only pieces of coconuts were left.
My bus started to move and I could see another hawker selling fake golden jewellery, it was so shiny that you needed sunglasses. How can i miss an “ebeniste” buying a piece of home made pizza?
Behind this scenery there was first train station found at La Gare Victoria Port Louis made of rocks and standing strong since 1865. Today, in a pitiful state. The rocks started to shout in my presence. The rocks stood strong, proud of a royalist past. Each of them had a story to tell, a story to tell me, a A story to tell you and a story to tell the world. Tailor made rocks who held secrets. Unsaid and Unseen. The rocked shouted for renovation and said no to change. The rocks shouted for independence. A masterpiece.
My bus continued to move in the crowd, people were sticking to each other and and none were scared to get crushed under the bus tyres. It is a question of habit or “mode de vivre”. It goes like this:-
….”15rs ene pair savate, 5rs orange….donne mo risse ene coup” ..madame missier grand promtion kot bourgeon”. Local slang language mixed with the sound of motorcycle, bus engine and scorching sun. The best liquid is a cold orange juice in aquarium and full of chemical products.
In a few minutes, my bus reached on main road next to caserne headquaters. Now am going to a place where civilized and educated people meet. To think and ponder about society.
La gare victoria is full of life, even though someone was missing. No one felt his presence…a hawker was no more shouting…” cornet plastique”…no one noticed…no one even remember apart from his colleagues. None of the educated and civilized people saw the difference. Let me tell you people…he is no more. No surprise due to HIV. Sir, hope you are in a better place.