I don't really take public transportation in the States. Granted I do live in a city, Providence, where taking public buses (or driving for that matter) is often slower than riding a bike, and ultimately the span of areas that I need to reach is just not very extensive. The most convincing of reasons to not ride a bike are the following: sleet, snow, rain, cold, arriving sweaty. In that order. Additionally, kudos to RIPTA for existing, but it just isn't the best system in the world. Anyways, I grew up in a rural area where public transportation does not exist.
I say this all as (unnecessary) pretext to my proselytization observations to clarify that I have no real basis for comparison in the states, only conjecture. At any rate, among the long and ever growing list of things that never cease to me as I go about daily life in Guatemala, the aggressive yet paradoxically benign proselytizing & random product-pushing culture that runs rampant. Primary targets are buses, always. Second targets are the streets.
I am sitting in an aforementioned (see Aug 20th entry) camioneta ("chicken bus") in Salamá, the capital of the department of Baja Verapaz, waiting to take a midday bus into Guatemala City. This bus is not exactly a second-class coach bus, nor is it quite a normal camioneta. Whereas most buses have normal school bus seating, this bus had taken a classy step up by ripping out all normal school bus seating and replacing it with what I will call affectionately well worn to the threads coach bus seats, four per aisle. Additionally, each of the windows had its own some sort of red velour or crushed fake velvet type curtain strung up so as to protect one from the sun as wished. Complimenting the incongruous seating were new panels of fake granite siding running the length of the bus from floor to window.
But, I digress. I am sitting there in Salamá waiting for an unknown hour upon which we will depart (the "10 minutes" in the phrase "we leave in 10 minutes" has the incredible ability to defy our clearly naive standard conceptions of "time" and span anywhere from 30 seconds to 1 hours worth of "time"), and I am watching every person like a hawk who strolls up the front steps of this bus, half of whom are not actual passengers to be but rather people hawking their wares to all the clientel already settled in the bus: el Diario (Guatemala's trashy newspaper), La Prensa (the NY Times equivalent), aguas (soda or purified water), jugos (too-sugary juices), llaveros (key chains), dulces (penny candies) and more. I am not phased by this type of selling, it's expected and even desired on my part by now. It's just part of life. Salamá to Guate is a long bus ride, and I am trying my best to telepathically beseech a street vendor bearing chiles rellenos to enter the bus so I can bring along a modest lunch-snack. Or at least toasted fava beans.
Instead, I get an Evangelical.
It's a funny game to play, which I suppose is made easier by my being a non-too-apparent foreigner, the game of "please for goodness sake don't bother me or make me feel awkward but not too disinterested as to be perceived rude" game. We (i.e, anyone trying to get your attention for vending wares, whether they be God, help for family plight, consumibles, a cure all pill for an un-realized ailment, or a marketing mixture of any and all of the above) always start with a:
Most beautiful God blessed day to all of you, ladies and gentleman, with all due respect, I am here to ...... (and then we begin).
He whips out the worn Bible and... Although I understand perfectly what he is saying his exact words don't really stick with me, just general vagueness and indecent amount of repetition. (I guess that is the idea). God is great, God knows all, stop pretending he can't see what you do and what you think. She sins, he sins, you sin, and God knows it. Going to church is not enough, being pious is not enough, you have got to know it. (interlude with a quick actual Bible passage read that says nothing illuminative). I love my family but I love God so I had to leave them to find for themselves to spread the word. (A brief fumbling, pointed fingering, incompatible Bible passage, and dramatic pause later, we return to preaching). You can never know full well on your own how to fully comprehend your sin and the power of God, it's just not possible. Being a good Evangelical is not good enough. But I do. That's why I had to leave my family and preach. Become an Evangelical. I have to continue spreading my truth.
....(and how we always end) So, ladies and gentleman, with all due respect I will be passing individually to your seats, I appreciate your support greatly. God bless.
I'm puzzled. He actually made no coherent point, and then he ended. But a good one quarter of the people on the bus are giving him small amounts of money anyways. Some street vendors had climbed on the bus, one even bearing fava beans (!), but I felt too awkward to interrupt and to flag them down from behind the proselytizer and make them walk up the aisle toward me, so I lose my snack chance.
But why does that work? Why the (dare I say it) hell did that work? The man said nonsense for Evangelicals and nothing conversion-worthy for non-Evangelicals. He made a poor case for giving financial support to his dubious, I guess I could say...missionary? work. Is he actually a swindler? Does he really believe himself to be gifted with the word of God? Do people feel better because he mentioned God so they ought to give some sort of donation, no matter what? Are people always that easily controlled? And where did my past 15 minutes go? I can't decide if it is true dedication or true ridiculous repulsiveness.
The bus starts.
But I do know that the man and the bus driver and his helper know each other. He is a regular. In fact, the man's preaching fell upon deaf ears as far as the bus driver and his assistant were concerned, to the point that they felt no qualms about bantering in a slightly interruptive volume of voice throughout the whole process. The proselytizer gets left off in a neighborhood five minutes on the way out of the city center, presumably to catch another bus on in the way in. The three wave their respective goodbyes. This happens one out three or four times I am on a bus.
I can't imagine anyone pulling a stunt like that on public transportation in the states. Am I just that naive? I am still puzzled.
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