The Indignity Of Public Transport In Africa
Public transport in Africa is a rather haphazard affair and, more often than not, a harrowing experience for the uninitiated.
Timetables are nonexistent in many instances and routes are determined by the urgency with which the crews need to hit their fiscal targets.
The whole experience 'encourages' one to assume an entirely 'intuitive' approach to time management and adhere to the tenets of the construct that is 'time'. Which, depending on ones temperament, can either be a simple mind frame adjustment or a paradigm shift too far.
But for me, it's the indignity of the whole thing that roasts my Mopani worm...
You know what I mean? Having to somehow, with some measure of dignity, be sandwiched four abreast when the vehicle is designed to seat three.
The lady with the printed Zambia wrap (you know the ones: with the faces of revolutionary leaders) and 'wide carriage'; who's obligated to rub your cheek with her backside when she slides by, while you try to be unphased and look dignified.
The tout/conductor who specifies in the never spoken, or written for that matter, "fine print", specifying that; "there will be times when you are expected to find your own change."; which, by the way, may also involve being saddled with another passenger 's change. All this whilst being dignified.
Of coarse, then there's being pressed up to the window (which doesn't open) in the height of summer, whilst being sat next to the person who left their "public self" at home; relentlessly attacking passengers with B.O. again, having to contend with all this whilst being what?... Dignified.
Can I get a Witness?