I almost lost control of the steering wheel when Gina told me that the woman sitting patiently by the door of the buka was her mom. Her back was turned to us, and it was not until the bus jerked forward noisily that she turned towards our direction.
“She is gorgeous,” Josephine said.
Gina, with a scared look on her face, did not want to step down. She was sitting next to me in front of the bus, and her mother looked directly at us with some suspicion.