Stranded in Gantgaw as an engine problem stops the bus for nearly 24 hours. Pic: Nyunt Win

MY muscles ached in protest as I squeezed in between luggage and other passengers during my bus ride from Mandalay to Hakha, capital of Chin State. We were only a few hours into the drive and it already felt like an ordeal. Little did I realise how much of an ordeal it would eventually be.

As the bus rolled along the road to Monywa, a town on the east bank of Chindwin River, I tried ignore the pain and keep myself alert by looking through the window at the desert-like scenes on either side of the road.

Compounding my pain was the tortoise-like pace of the bus. It seemed like the driver knew the road well but the speed at which he was driving was embarrassing. I looked around the bus and it seemd like all the other passengers had assumed they would be late for the scheduled arrival in Hakha the next day.

After a long, boring day’s ride, the bus turned into Chaung Oo-Pakokku, a small road that runs leads off the main highway. Soon we crossed over the Hsinphyushin Bridge that spans the Chindwin River and entered Magwe Division.

As darkness replaced light our bus finally picked up speed and we motored ever closer toward the distant Pondaung and Ponnya mountain ranges.
It felt as if our bus was stuck on some kind of demented rollercoaster track that just kept going round and around.

Better yet, our driver had decided that this was the perfect place and time to make up for his earlier lethargy by performing his best Formula 1 driver impersonation.

Despite this I managed to drift into an uncomfortable sleep.
I awoke as the bus stopped in front of a little restaurant for us to eat a late dinner in the small, sleepy town of Kyaw; it was about 10:30pm and we were only midway through the long journey. Or so I thought.

After dinner we all boarded the bus and I happily retreated back to sleep – until midnight when the bus unexpectedly stopped and the drivers jumped out to investigate.

Once again resigned to my fate I went back to sleep but awoke confused because the bus was still not moving. Still groggy with sleep I went outside to find out why we weren’t going anywhere.

As the sun’s early rays fell upon the gaggle of travellers I looked underneath the bus and my eyes were greeted by a discouraging sight – an oil slick. And there were no drivers to be seen.

This was a perplexing turn of events.

In the distance I could heard the sound of a train locomotive but it was hidden from view by thick jungle. Happily our drivers returned on the back of a hired motorcycle with tools in hand to find what had stricken our bus.

After spending some time tinkering in the engine bay one of the drivers reported that the engine had cracked and would need major repairs.

Buses between Mandalay and Hakha only run on alternate days and not on Sundays. Just my luck, I thought, it was Sunday. My journey to Hakha would have to wait until a replacement bus from Hakha arrived, supposedly later that day.

To pass the time I began talking with several other passengers and swapped experiences.

“This is just a minor difficulty,” one passenger said. “In the rainy season, landslides sometimes close the road for a week.”
I asked an older traveller what the name Hakha means.

“In local language Hakha is pronounced and written as Halkha, which means 'already taken; already occupied’,” he answered. “Legend has it that the founder of the area called it that so that nobody would take his land once he had claimed it.”

Another passenger had been listening and decided to add: “Hakha is the Switzerland of Myanmar, you’ll see when you get there.”

Part 2 next week.