A comment on South African taxis...

First, I must define for you what I mean by taxi, a South African taxi to be more specific. Imagine one of those VW vans...you know the ones I'm talking about...they're often identified with the 1960's, hippies, Woodstock, and free love...yeah, that one...that's what South African taxis look like.

Imagine how loud your 16 year-old brother/cousin/son/nephew/friend might play music in the car right after he received his driver's licence and got to take it out for a spin for the first time alone with four of his friends. You can actually hear the car before you see it. That's how loud taxis are.

Here's a little interactive portion for you: If you know anyone with a mini-van (although a mini-van is too nice compared to a taxi), ask them if you and more than a few strangers can borrow if for about 30 mintues (that's long enough). Gather a group of about 15 people you don't know (who may or may not have taken a bath, potentially have an open wound, not use deoderant yet worked a 15 hour day in 98.6 degree weather, who is carrying about ten bags of groceries and expects you to carry at least 3 of them on your lap, and who might be lactating and will expose you to the maternal process of breast feeding), and sit in the van without the air conditioner on and with only one window cracked.

There must be 4 people in the back row, and at least three people in the other three rows. On the front bench seat, it's the driver, a fairly attractive (or not) young female in the middle (so the taxi driver has someone to hit on for the entire ride, or until she gets out), and another stranger next to the young woman.

Try being the person who sits in the last row next to the window. Now get out of the taxi without anyone kindly moving out of your way.

A Couple Of Things You Might Experience:

On our first trip to Thlabane, to visit our friend Saziso and other co-workers, Elayna and I were given not-so-specific directions to give to the taxi driver, in hopes of getting dropped off on the correct street. Well, the directions, plus our language deficiency seemed like they'd get in the way of actually making it to our intended destination. A call was placed on my phone to Saziso, but after several attempts, things weren't getting any more clear. The phone was then passed to the young lady sitting next to us, in hopes that she might help point us in the right direction. After a 7 minute conversation, she didn't seem any more clear than we were, so without a word, the phone was passed up to the driver (via everyone in the taxi). After a 5 minute conversation, the phone was passed back to me...we arrived safe and sound...a big "THANKS" is in order to all of those ananomyous taxi patrons!

Last weekend, I, along with Elayna, Tshepo, and Saziso took the last taxi headed to Bapong, to visit Tshepo's "compound" (that's for you manqane). After about five minutes out of the taxi rank, a man seated near the back had a loud conversation with the driver. Saso immediately started laughing. We were soon to find out that we were making a short detour to the driver's house...so he could pick up his gun. I'm thinking about going over to his house, now that I know where he lives, and pay a visit to him and his family...I feel a special bond with him...I feel like we met, had a first date, and met the family all in one night...

FOR MORE ON TAXIS AND OTHER SORTED THOUGHTS, VISIT: TOO MUCH TAXI (A big SHOUT OUT to Elayna's friends! I feel like I've had too much taxi too!)