I don’t like to take taxis. Full stop. Particularly because of:
Number 1: How taxi conductors bang on the side of the taxi as if we, the commuters, are prisoners in a metal container.
Number 2: How taxi conductors ask for your R5 coin and then
afterwards they couldn’t care less what happens to you. For example just
yesterday afternoon this lady was going to Durban station, but the taxi
conductor persuaded her jump into the taxi – they blamed it on her and
said that she should pay twice. – What!!!
Number 3: The worst is when five to six taxi conductors will crowd around you, each one pulling you towards their taxi.
This comes to my story that I am trying to tell you. My shoe broke.
Yes, Zluh the one that you passed down to me suddenly decided that it
had grown tired of my walking abuse and broke. So what would you do? I
looked for a stapler in my office and lo and behold after six staples in
the broken area – it was fixed, so I thought. So I added four more.
On this day I decided to take a taxi ride back home because I did not
want to risk the shoe snapping while I was walking. I approached the
taxis that “rank” outside of DCC and where the self-proclaimed “skhothenis” hang
out. Wungad out of their minds. A taxi hoots at me, a
skhotheni approaches me. “Woza sisi, se iyahamba le ingaphambili” (The
one in the front is about to leave). I had my eye on the one that had
just approached the traffic lights. As I walk towards the “apple of my
eye” five taxi conductors and skhothenis swarm me as ants would to as
lump of sugar. Oh my word!!!
Natural instinct kicked in and I pushed them out of my way as if I
was dueling in a wrestling match (I am serious). This was do or die, or
more like a don’t mess with me message. As for my shoe, I felt a slight
movement and I was convinced that it was broken or re-broken. I dragged
my foot to the taxi of my choosing, only to discover that the shoe was
intact. Phew!
Oscapha and skhotheni, hayi shame!
