The kindness of new friends

We had quite the ride home from the shops recently.  Of late, we have been heading north to Lautoka to do our food shopping, even though it’s further than going to Namaka (on the way to Nadi), because the produce market and the supermarket that has a bakery are right across the road from one another, so it minimises the lugging about of the two children and the goods procured.

Our means of transportation is a taxi van that runs the route between Fulton and Lautoka maybe four or five times a day.  It’s two dollars to go the whole way, which is cheaper than the bus, and you just ring the driver when you want to be collected and he tells you how far away he is, a convenience also not afforded by the bus.  (Often, he’ll drop us right to our house afterward, and the bus doesn’t do that either.)  This particular van has no functioning speedometer or fuel gauge, and ventilation is provided by the open windows, which works fine so long as you’re moving.  The van does stop frequently to collect passengers from the side of the road, and taking off again is accompanied by an orchestra of gear-changing noises I have not previously heard the like of, and would probably be done faster by the motor of a two-stroke mower (and you have to push those).  At least the fact that we are not travelling fast – even trucks pass us – makes me feel better about the fact that the kids have no car seats.

In any case, on the journey in question, Brent, Reggie, Lucy and I were the only passengers in the van.  It was bound to be a good trip when, as we were leaving Lautoka, the driver asked us if we wanted to stop at McDonald’s for soft serve cones.  We wouldn’t think of turning that offer down, so through the drive-thru we went, and of course we naturally assumed we’d be paying but the driver wouldn’t hear of it, which was so sweet given the cost of the cone was almost as much as the taxi fare.  As we were wiping the last drops from Reggie’s face, (and hands, and front,) we pulled into the petrol station.  Our driver parked up and went in and I thought we were filling up but he came back with a couple of magnums and we just drove off.  We were almost back at the Junction where we head down our road when we turned off into a small lane and passed through one of those barrier arms like in carpark buildings, except this one was lifted up and down manually by a man who sat in a hut with a window, a stool and a tiny sink with two taps.  We passed some buildings and came to an office with a lady standing outside.  She came to the passenger window and our driver introduced us to his fiancé; the magnums were for her.  He told us, in a most enthusiastic voice, all about her on the drive home.  I was struck by the fact that all the detours made this rather an unconventional taxi ride, but Brent was in time for his class and I was delighted to have borne witness to our driver’s kindness.