Jamba was a strange individual, which I noticed as I watched him converse with the office secretary. His actions gave a clear indication of how he related with people. I could tell that there was a problem between the two from the way the secretary kept throwing her hands in the air uncontrollably. All this time, Jamba stood calmly on the other side of the office table with his hands tacked across his chest. After a couple of minutes, the secretary handed him a piece of paper. Jamba took the paper and walked out of the room towards the bus. I was him keenly as he took long bold strides up the bus the staircase. Now I had a clear view of him, guided by his appearance. His bushy hair dominated a huge fraction of his head, and his rough beards were a perfect compliment. Jamba wore a pair of khaki short and maroon Japanese color shit. His facial brown complexion struck a contrast with his black bush hair.
Jamba sat next to me, and the driver took off immediately. I reached out my hand as we drove off to greet him. Jamba stretched out his brown hairy hand and shook mine. "Sasha," I said confidently. "Jamba is my name." The tone that Jamba used forced me to take s second gaze on his face. His voice was soft yet firm. "She could let have me secure a ticket," He added while pointing at the direction of the booking office. "Never mind. Welcome to America". That is all I could say as I leaned back to my seat. We drove for two hours before the bus suddenly developed funny problems. The bus had funny sounds coming from the wheel chambers. The driver stopped at first and walked out of the bus. After a few minutes, the drivers came back and started the engine again and drove off.
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Before we took the bend on Garbana Street, the bus produced even more loud sounds from the wheels again. This time Jamba stood confidently and shouted calmly to the driver who was searching his head and cursing around. "Check the brake pads". Everybody turned to look at Jamba. He never appeared as a man who knew anything with the bus system, yet there he stood confidently staring at the driver. "Okay," the driver said as he alighted. After a while, the driver came back smiling and said to Jamba, "thanks, friend. It worked". At first, a strange silence engulfed the bus. Finally, a white woman who sat behind me said, "That is strange." She was not the only one who thought so because her sentiments opened a session of murmurs in the bus. Everybody was amazed by the contrasting character of Jamba. Jamba appeared so rogue and disorganized, but his personality usually changed when he spoke, expressing the effect he had on people.
