perception is fatal: on the bus (seat)

Had I missed it?

Crossing the road to the bus stop, I can't tell whether or not I am going to be rewarded for my morning dash for the 8:08am bus. It is 8:08am exactly according to the clock on my mobile phone. There isn't anyone standing at the bus stop itself, which is a bad sign.

There is, however, a middle-aged couple standing by the road about ten or so metres away who would have seen the bus go by if it had already come and gone. So I decide to ask. Perhaps they were waiting for a pickup from a car.

I approach the man and pant: “Excuse me, I'msorrybuthaveyouseenthebusgoby?” The husband looks at me blankly and the wife, dressed in hijab, also says nothing. So I augment: “My bus is supposed to be here at 8:08am and I'm wondering if it has come and gone already and if you have seen it.” Then the man smiles and says, “We are new in Australia. Sorry, no speak English.” “Oh, really?” I decide that his English will suffice, and enunciate more slowly, “Has the bus gone?” “Oh! No, no, no. Coming!” It transpires that they are also waiting for the bus and that they arrived in Australia a week ago.

“Where from?” I inquire.

“Afghanistan,” he informs.

The anticipated bus arrives and I lead the way on board and take my pick of seats. I wonder if they are heading to the CIT for English lessons for newly arrived migrants and silently wish them well. The bus is only three quarters full and spare seats, while dispersed, are available, mainly near the back of the bus. Having seated myself in the seat of my choice I am able to observe the husband dive indecorously for the first seat that he comes to on walking down the aisle. His wife, who had been following, walks quickly by to the back of the bus, unacknowledged, to find her own seat.

My warm and positive feelings towards them dissipate. That is not right, I disapprove. Most men that I know would have, I judge, either thoughtfully or instinctively, reserved that first seat for a woman, a wife. And then there was the way that he dived for his seat, his body bent forward, hands reaching out, as if he thought that someone would push him aside to steal it from him. By all the rules of public transportation etiquette, the seat was his, for he was next.

In Australia.

Perhaps in Afghanistan the norm was for the men to seat themselves ahead of the women. Perhaps in Afghanistan it would have made sense for him to dive, instinctively, for someone could well have pushed him aside to steal his seat even though he was next and the seat was his.

Although I am not certain that I can ascribe what I observed to “culture”, for the rest of the bus trip I reflect upon differences.