The Back of the Bus
October 2, 2005, Antigua, Guatemala
By Tafari Lumumba
There’s no racism in Latin America. None. Ask the people who live there. There’s no racism in Mexico because everyone is Mexican. It’s that simple. Racism is an American problem, a gringo issue.
That’s what folks say, but as a black American who lived south of the border for 18 months, I beg to differ.
Guatemala was the scene of a crime. People died there. Babies cut from wombs, bombs thrown into schools filled with children, a priest murdered in his church. Then some people were just shot.
A 36-year civil war and genocide killed hundreds of thousands of indigenous Guatemalans. Just a decade after the war ended, I was 21 years old and doing an independent Watson Fellowship on storytelling among the Maya.
We did service jobs, clearing fields and digging ditches. Call it guerilla research, service learning, or whatever. At the end of the day, it was a black dude and 15 Mayans with shovels and a pickup truck.
In Guatemala, there’s one bus that runs directly from Antigua to Panajachel. It’s called the Rebuli. Sounds a lot like the Spanish word Rebelde or even the English word rebel, but it’s neither. It’s just the Rebuli.
The Rebuli was fast and direct. No stops. I needed a quick way back to Panajachel for a meeting with the Mayan government, but upon boarding the bus, I smelled something foul. White tourists clutching Lonely Planet books chatted in English at the front of the bus while the Maya sat silently in the back.
I stepped past the tourists and headed toward the back when a short Guatemalan guy stopped me. He sucked on a toothpick and stood with his shirt half-open, revealing a thick shiny belly. He was Ladino, part of the powerful non-Mayan minority.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“To the back,” I responded in Spanish.
“No, we have an order. Your seat is here.” He pointed to the spot next to a guy spitting English like sunflower seeds.
Toothpick Guy was definitely feeding me some bull. This was Guatemala. Nothing went in order. No lines at movie theaters or at the supermarket, just a blob of people in the general vicinity of service.
Folks in the back had skin as dark as mine, and there were still a few outside, waiting to board, while tourists got the best seats. Toothpick Guy wanted to force me into a privilege I’d never felt. I wasn’t black anymore, just American.
“Why are the Mayans in the back?” I asked.
“You’re place is here.” He pointed to the seat again. “This is the order.”
“No, it’s segregation. Maya in the back. Tourists in front. That’s racist.”
“Listen.” He took the toothpick out of his mouth and pointed it at me. “This is the order. You either sit in the front, or you leave.”
I looked at the bus from front to back. The power of the scene before me seemed immense. My great grandmother was enslaved. My grandfather couldn’t vote. My mother attended a segregated school. My whole world had come full circle.
Maybe it didn’t make sense to argue for the back of the bus. Who fights to be among the oppressed? Somehow, it felt right in my soul.
“I’m gone.” I left and walked toward the general bus station. I’d be late to Panajachel, but I didn’t care. Plus, the bastard forgot that I hadn’t yet paid.
“Hey!” someone yelled.
An older Ladino man, the bus driver, ran toward me with a cautious jog. They apparently recognized the detriment of an ultimatum when you don’t already have the customer’s money.
“What happened?” He asked with a caring voice.
“Why are the Mayans in the back?”
“Listen, Mayans steal. They’re dangerous. This is for your protection.”
“This is racist,” I said. “Trust me, tourists steal too.”
“It’s not racism. We’re all Guatemalan,” he explained. “Guatemalans steal, so they have to sit in the back.”
Polite tone. Same lies. Having tourists sit up front wasn’t just a safety precaution, it was a status symbol for every Mayan who walked down that aisle. Birmingham all over again.
“If I can’t sit in the back, I’m not getting on the bus. Period,” I said.
“Fine. If you get killed…” He shrugged his shoulders.
At that time, I’d traveled to indigenous towns by myself, ridden 11 hours to Tikal with a guy drooling on my shoulder, and even been interrogated by Guatemalan police officers carrying automatic weapons. I’d survive the 2-hour bus ride.
“We’re not responsible.” He held his hands in the air.
“And you never were,” I said.
When I boarded the bus again, Toothpick Guy stepped aside and gave me a cold glare. I looked down on him and smiled. Short bigots can never stare me down - especially short bigots with toothpicks in their mouths.
I walked past tourists as they continued to read about Guatemala with their backs turned on Guatemalans. I parked myself in the back with rows of Mayan women in shimmering blue wraps.
It was hard not to be scared among women breast-feeding their children and men sleeping with their heads against the windows. The little girl with red ribbon in her hair looked particularly badass. Somehow, among such peril, I found a way to sleep.
Thick rain drops pounded the bus as we weaved through foggy mountains. An epic onslaught. Nobody onboard knew that it was the beginning of Hurricane Stan. The storm would soon trap us in Panajachel, bury two villages, and kill more than 3,000 Maya in the next five days.
It would be the storm of the century. But in that moment, it was just rain. The sound of drops clapping against the roof was so soothing, it eased us all to sleep. Black and white, tourist and Guatemalan, Mayan and Ladino, we all slept to that common sporadic beat.
I never rode the Rebuli again.
Tafari Lumumba was born and raised in east Denver, Colorado. He considers Latin America his second home and is currently finishing a book detailing his travels as a black man across the border.
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35 Responses to “The Back of the Bus”
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August 13th, 2007 at 7:39 am
Great story and photo. Congrats Tafari, I look forward to reading more of your work!
August 13th, 2007 at 12:00 pm
I hate reading… especially in Eng, but that’s seriously one awesome story, Tafari! Proud of you. I look forward to reading more too.
August 13th, 2007 at 2:58 pm
Tafari, that is amazing! I\’m definitely gonna have to buy this book. Shoot me an e-mail when its done. peace, Ian
August 13th, 2007 at 9:18 pm
TAFARI THAT’S AMAZING! I am so freakin proud of you…and not just because you’re a badass writer but because you’re a badass. It takes a lot to stand up and say “this is wrong” when it’d be easier, and a whole lot more comfortable, to just let things be.
Eres un gran ser humano con un corazon que no te cabe en el pecho…por eso lo vemos en tu linda sonrisa
Que Dios te bendiga y muchas felicidades!
August 14th, 2007 at 3:46 am
Great job Tafari, and extremely true! I cannot wait to read more. Besos, Brendine
August 14th, 2007 at 8:25 am
Tafari, sounds like a risky way to live. I recently finished a biography of Thurgood Marshall by Juan Williams. Marshall was badass to the core and stood firm against all kinds of bigots. In the end, he was the big winner by getting that eight to zip Supreme Court decision in the black man’s favor by the all white Court. That said, you write well.
August 14th, 2007 at 12:20 pm
Tafari - I am Ernesto’s mother-in-law and Sarah forwarded your writing. The experience was well worth recording and your writing is excellent. I will be in line to buy your first book! I believe I met you in Colorado - be well and stay safe. Gail
August 14th, 2007 at 2:13 pm
You are your mother’s son. I am so very proud of you for being true to yourself and your principles and for being a great story teller.
Love you.
August 14th, 2007 at 6:08 pm
Mr. Tafari Lumumba, that was amazing! There is always more than one perspective and you have definitely enlightened me to that more than ever. I knew you were excellent but I did not know that you were so marvelous.
This will be laminated in the families history, particularly my wall.
Congratulations Tafari
Your cousin,
LiQueta Douglas
August 15th, 2007 at 6:05 am
Your story has a rhythm and sense of place to it that is difficult to achieve. I particularly like the way you captured the falsely “conciliatory” tone of the bus driver. Well done. It is a story worth telling, since often there is not mention made of the racism outside of black/white.
August 15th, 2007 at 6:23 am
Tafari, nice article. Let me know when you get your book published, I’ll be sure to check it out. Peace, Justin.
August 15th, 2007 at 7:54 am
Lumumba, Excellent read! I\’m finally getting to see this talent I\’ve heard whispers about. Congrats homeboy! And props and respect for standing up for what you believe and sticking to your values. That takes a little heart.
August 15th, 2007 at 11:55 am
This is awesome! Your writing is incredible. It has a smooth flow and a sense of humor embedded into it without sounding forced. You are gifted.
On top of that, you are a person of integrity. Americans like you make me proud to be from this country. I wish they all had a similar sense of justice.
I loved reading it personally, as 10 years ago, I spent a month studying Spanish in Antigua, Guatemala. The segregation and class separations haven’t improved much, apparently.
Thank you for sharing your insights. I can tell that you will be a powerfully influential man in your career, whatever you will choose that to be.
Loralie
August 15th, 2007 at 12:24 pm
I love stories like this on the internet–short, concise, riveting, with a message–and sarcasm that really works. You have a wonderful career ahead of you, Tafari. Thank you for your “man on the street” perspective. I hope more of your work gets out to educate the “tourists.”
August 15th, 2007 at 4:38 pm
WOW WHAT A WONDERFUL STORY!!. Thank you Mr. Lumumba!!! Please do more!!!
August 15th, 2007 at 4:45 pm
Beautiful and powerful all wrapped up into one. Your storytelling swept me away from Colorado and into the mountains of Guatemala. I saw the people as you saw them…I felt what you felt. I get chills up my spine just typing this. You are a gifted writer, Tafari. Whatever else you do in life, continue to fan the flames of your writing gift in you because they promise to deliver to the world much that’ll bring healing to it. I feel proud to have met you. Blessings to you now and always.
August 15th, 2007 at 5:30 pm
Ayyyyy Heyyyyy! Tafari,
What a way to put a smile on someone’s face! I felt to good to watch you look that bus driver in the eyes and stand up for what was right. The smiplicity of the way you shoewde me how the oppressed went on about their lifes was calming; and the way you shared the rain ushering in calming sleep was relaxing! I need an autographed book when you finish if you don’t mind! BeAuTIfUl story:-)
August 16th, 2007 at 8:04 am
Tafari,
Your mother sent me an email to read your story. I was glad she did! I was very intrigued on how you detailed the real life episode that you went through. The story almost came to life as I visualize the drama of it all. You’re an excellent writer and I hope all the 9th grade class at Manual will have an opportunity to read your life stories.
August 16th, 2007 at 11:11 am
Hola! Mi Amigo. Amo su madre y su tia, Sandy Como esta usted?
Well, enough of my “Survival Spanish”
Excellente! Brovo! and a Dios mios! I was hoping the start would be the ending. You are a wonderful writer…just like su madre, Beverly.
Keep writing and finding optimism…even when it is easier to sing the Blues.
Senora Clementina!
August 16th, 2007 at 1:19 pm
Tafari,
The “common sporadic beat” so capable of “easing us all to sleep” is the natural occurrence of the spiritual reality of racism. The parallels you draw between sleeping through that which was the actual precursor to “the storm of the century” and allowing racism to go unchallenged are so skillfully done that I couldn’t believe I was watching you do it.
“Nobody onboard knew that it was the beginning of Hurricane Stan.” At the end of your story, young man, you speak prophetically when you refer to the effects of Hurricane Stan using words like, “…trap…buried…kill…” We would do well to heed such a beautifully crafted and artistically woven warning. You are brilliant!
Your Aunt Rhonda
August 17th, 2007 at 10:08 am
Mr. Lumumba’s writing is profoundly perceptive. While reading the story I felt challenged to ask myself if I would have the courage to stand up for what is right in such a situation. Perhaps more importantly, would I even possess the clarity to recognize that something was wrong in the first place? It takes an amazing person to go on such a journey and an extremely talented writer to record it with such skill. I look forward to reading more of your work.
August 17th, 2007 at 2:29 pm
Tafari what a wonderful, sensitive and caring story about your experiences! All of us at Harrington are proud of you! Keep writing with a “writer’s eye”!
Your Former Principal
August 17th, 2007 at 7:53 pm
Honest, real, captivating, and just plain entertaining. If this piece is any indication, your book is bound to become a classic (I am already anxiously aniticipating its completion).
Megan Kinney, Denver
P.S. I am privileged to know your mother - I am the librarian at the Ford-Warren branch right by Manual H.S.; she and I are involved in a grass-rootsy community group concerned with issues in education…
August 18th, 2007 at 6:42 am
This is a wonderful and eye opening tale. Thank you for sharing.
August 19th, 2007 at 8:24 pm
Tafari, hermano que te puedo decir. A great hermano, a captivating scene and a strong stance; like always the proud Tafari stands up again. You know I’m always ready to read such amazing work, as long as you continue to add such captivating pictures. Again hermano congratulations.
August 20th, 2007 at 8:35 pm
what an amazing, well-told story…the pictures were awesome I thank your Aunt Anita for sharing. if you have a travel blog…hit me back so i can stay tuned in to your global experiences…otherwise i will look for your book
August 23rd, 2007 at 2:29 pm
I commend you for taking a stand. This was a gripping story in more ways than one. Your vivid visualization of the scene, descriptions of the people - the ladino with the toothpick, the passengers - the scene on the bus and the approaching storm. You had me with you there all the way.
I also related to this story on a personal level. As a fair-haired Anglo/Latina who lived in Mexico for 38 years and married a full-blood, dark-skinned Mexican, I encountered both racism and discrimination many times, particularly among themselves. It never ceased to amaze me, and annoy me, that in Mexico as in Guatemala, even the most uncouth American/foreign slobs were often shown preferential treatment over locals.
I\’ll certainly be interested to read more from you.
August 23rd, 2007 at 4:12 pm
Tafari. Mr. Tafari. Thank you for such a wonderful piece. My soul rested when I saw that you found peace at the end of the day. Peace for the moment. Peace before the next storm. Every time I read this writing I am filled with so many emotions. Each time, you take me to the place where you are were when confronted with such inhumanity to man. There is pain, oppression, and anger. But, inspite of all that, rest did come for you and your brothers and sisters on the bus.
I can’t wait for the next writing. Hurry up. Know that you take me with you in your experiences.
Aunt Kay
September 2nd, 2007 at 9:51 am
Great read. Nice work, Tafari
September 2nd, 2007 at 9:12 pm
Count me among the many who look forward to hearing more and more about you and from you as your adventures continue. Felicidades, Tafari!
September 2nd, 2007 at 10:06 pm
Right on man. Keep it up. Good to hear what you are up to.
September 26th, 2007 at 4:26 pm
Hey, Fari, I liked the story a lot…It’s nice to see one of the great seniors of Machebeuf High that I looked up to do something positive. I’m happy that your making out there in the world. Lol..I’m on my way next!!!Also, I’m glad to here that your getting married. I hope she cheishes you and realizes she has a charm on her hands. Very intelligient, and tell ya momma I said hey.I miss yall and I’m making it down here in Louisiana.Congrats and I love the story….yea I’ll buy it!!!!
January 16th, 2008 at 4:49 pm
As a Mexican-American, thank you for that story. There is racism in Latin American Countries. Maybe we need an indigenous MLK!
April 19th, 2008 at 12:17 pm
Very good article Tafari, well written, insightful comments. I’d be interested to see your collection of stories when you are finished. Keep up this exciting and very good work.
Frank Gambardella
April 29th, 2008 at 8:37 am
Hola Tafari, el dia de hoy casualmente me he encontrado con este articulo que escribiste sobre tu estancia en Guatemala y tu historia esta GENIALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL, que te puedo decir, me encanto y mientras la leia, te imaginaba en esa situacion, fue tan sencillo verte ahi hablando y defendiedo los derechos humanos, siendo simplemente tu UNA PERSONA EXCEPCIONAL, eres un gran escritor y una persona digna de admirarse, tafari tines tantas cualidades que no terminaria de decirlas, sin embargo me llena de regocijo el poder haberte conocido y haber compartido un tiempo contigo cuando estuviste en OAxaca, eres una de las personas mas valiosas que conozco, no se si llegues a leer mi comentario, ojala que si, ME ENCANTARA saber de ti, como estas, como esta eso de tu libro???? dime cuando salga y porsupuesto quiero uno firmado por ti. cuidate mucho Tafari (papi chulo) y Recuerda que se te quiere mucho aqui en Mexico, un beso enorme!!!!!!!!!!!!!!