I had the crazy idea a while back that I would like to experience a minibus taxi ride in Durban. I’ve done it in many a country abroad and yet I have never tried it in my home country. As you may have read in past posts, I don’t go with convention or as I’m told. It gets me into trouble but it also brings me great adventures and even better stories.
The usual set of objections applied. You are taking your life in your own hands. Yes but I have already done that on a bus in the US, Sri Lanka and Bolivia, great stories by the way. What is the point? New experiences, make new friends, gain a deeper understanding for those South Africans that do not have the luxury of choice.
This is a game, that I don’t know the rules to. You can’t find a route map with popular stops. Google didn’t have the answers to my queries. The drivers mostly don’t speak English. All I knew is what I had learnt by observation. Taxis stop suddenly and seemingly at opportunistic spots (much to the annoyance of other drivers). Hand signals are used to indicate where passengers want to go. Knowing a hand signal doesn’t guarantee a taxi will stop for you. Clearly observation was not a great teacher. I needed someone with insider knowledge. My guru in this case was my friend Londi who graciously met me at Gateway to show me the ropes.
The taxi pulled out of Gateway and the whiff of fumes caught in my nostrils. I hardly had a chance to register that I could get asphyxiation from this before we all lurched forward to a sudden stop. Our taxi narrowly missing another as they vied for the fastest exit strategy from the taxi rank. Then my thoughts changed to ‘Okay, I might die today, asphyxiation by fumes is possibly not so bad’. We got going and I stopped being ridiculous in my fears.
First rule I learnt very quickly is that having smaller notes and some coins is helpful. A longer trip to town costs R15, a shorter trip R6. The fare is collected by the passengers and passed forward. By positional default, the passenger sitting in front is tasked with counting everyone’s fare. A task that very few are delighted to be in charge of. The driver is like a hawk, he knows what he should get out of every load so do not short change him. Miraculously the change makes it’s way back to you from the front.
Sitting at the back, you can feel every bump. Is it the road or are these shock absorbers shot? Fortunately you are tightly packed and you unintentionally become your neighbour’s restraint. Londi and I chatted up a storm but I noticed that the rest of the passengers didn’t make a peep. This is Africa, we are friendly talkative people. I was expecting booming music and happy chatter the whole way. What was up?
Londi informed me that in recent years with the advent of the smartphone and social media, people no longer chat to their neighbours. It is a sad thought, here we were packed shoulder to shoulder and yet the only words spoken were requests for stops or informing your fellow passenger how much fare you are paying.
There seemed to be a specific route taken to town which allowed the maximum opportunities to stop, drop and pick up. This was mostly through the suburbs but some do take a more direct approach and use the M4 highway. 20 minutes and we were stepping out into the bustle of town. Here there are conductors that you can get some directions from. They obviously want to hustle you into their taxis but if you ask for Berea, that’s what you will be shown to.
The next taxi was way more entertaining than the last. Pumping tunes were blaring from the speakers, a conductor hanging out the door hustling for passengers as we drove and the decor inside just had me in inner stitches. Here a picture is worth a thousand words. Pimp my ride had nothing on this guy. The slogan read – Quality time for single ladies. Someone thinks that he is The Man. With that slogan, I was not surprised when the conductor started negotiations for my number and even got a passenger involved trying to get Londi’s.
Londi informed me that there are in fact set routes that taxis follow but that there are no physical maps for passenger to peruse. This is a learn by experience or basically by mistake kind of a school ground. Stops are simple, landmarks you can see or know are coming are use as a request like ‘robot left’. If you experience what happens inside a taxi you will have more understanding from the outside as a fellow road user. I’m not condoning how they drive but it makes more sense now.
On the return trip, Londi cut me loose and sent me back on my own. Please know that without her I would definitely not have found the right taxi rank heading north. Town is chaotic to the untrained eye. I need a few more lessons before I will be a seasoned taxi traveler.
This time I sat down, like any other passenger waiting for the taxi to fill up. I was tempted like many to haul out my phone and get onto texting people but not interacting with those right next to me. Instead I looked out the dirty window and watched the scenery of the ocean and Durban greenery whiz past. It felt like I was in another country. It is not often that I have the opportunity to observe the world passing me in depth.
You get to freak drivers out at stops when you make eye contact with them, you get to give a warm smile to a pedestrian at an intersection and when you finally have the courage, you get to have a conversation with a stranger and hear about their day.
I walked away delighted at my new experience but my analytical mind could not let go of some newly acquired knowledge. In one morning I took 5 taxis to get to where we were going and get back. An average trip. It cost me R48. It may not seem so much but that’s a quarter of the normal commuter’s daily income.
Food for thought. Until the next trip.
What a courageous experience.