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7 o’clock in the morning

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“Thousand; thousand kusvika Albion, thousand chete vabereki.” Gotten used to this daily chant by the ‘sliding door operators‘ a.k.a hwindis at Avondale Shopping Centre, I board the omnibus. I unfortunately get the last space available; you know that dreaded last corner of a seat just by the door, the one where the hwindi unceremoniously leans over you. Literally hunkers down on you. I brace myself. Predictably, the moment the door closes, a very strong whiff of stale sweat wafts through the air, and I find my face almost in his armpit – arrgh! This is 7 o’clock in the morning.

The instruction follows that passengers pay their fare, and another distinct smell – halitosis – joins its counterpart in the air around me. I mentally say to myself; there ought to be a law against this, whindis ought to maintain maximum personal health standards given the amount of interpersonal relation they have with passengers.

To make matters worse, I notice that as he busily collects his dues, his crotch is unashamedly settled on my left knee. There is an unusual amount of warmth there and I think to myself, does he honestly not feel that his privies are somewhere out of bounds? To avoid unnecessary talk, I look directly in his face, hoping he’d figure out he is harassing me. Instead, the young fellow in a thick voice commands me to give him my fare. And his foul breath hits me squarely in the face this time.

I obediently but silently take out my one thousand dollars, only to have it thrust back in my face. You may want to refer to my first sentence to understand. Apparently, the fare is now one thousand five hundred. Sound familiar? We never go for longer than three weeks with the same fare. And I think to myself, with a political and economic system gone to the rabid dogs, its no surprise that all checking systems collapse. The Ministry of Transport has no idea and probably doesn’t care about what is going on with passengers. No one seems to want to be responsible for handling and controlling transport operators.

As I am about to again silently and obediently take out another note, one lady in the back speaks out admonishing whindis in general for raising their fares willy-nilly and duping passengers. A debate ensues and tempers rise, and for a moment my five hundred is forgotten. Avondale residents are not troublesome folk I notice. I look around and see those who are not participating in this discussion. They are not bothered, all they want to do is to get to work, whatever it takes.

Completely forgotten, I jump off at Park Lane and say to myself, although none of this is gonna change in a very long time, at least today I saved five hundred.

6 comments to “7 o’clock in the morning”

  1. Comment by Brenda Burrell:

    I loved this blog – such a rich mixture of humour, observation and tolerance.

  2. Comment by Taka Muparutsa:

    I couldn’t agree more with the sentiments you’ve expressed!! I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed with your evocation of that intrusive invasion of individual “space” that we’re subjected to on commuter omnibuses.

    It really wouldn’t be such an ordeal being on a kombi if only (and I know this is wishful thinking of the highest order) the touts would observe minimal standards of personal hygiene (such as brushing their teeth and using a basic deodorant/anti-perspirant). Lord knows they make enough money on the side throughout the day (“mari yemusana”), which their employers never get to see!!

    When all’s said and done, that indifferent attitude by the so-called powers-that-be is symptomatic and representative of the general collapse in service delivery in Zimbabwe, a microcosmic illustration of just how badly run-down our whole way of doing things has become.

    You really express yourself graphically, my Sister!! Well done!

  3. Comment by charles kumbula:

    what a very good observation. Because of the ever increasing costs of transport the Hwindis are now “paying” passengers. At the front are two paying passengers and one of their fellows to make three.

    At the second row will also be an unpaying Hwindi and at the front the normal / usual conductor. This situation needs to improve definitely

    Thanks

  4. Comment by Haswell:

    As long as you have a docile citizenry you are bound to be short changed in all aspects. This weird culture of tolerating is one that has brought Zim to where it is. Travel to places like Botswana you will never see commuters packed like sardines in a commuter bus. Maximum of three per commuter seat is observed. I know some will say that the Zim scenario is borne out of shortage of transport but excuse me. Rise Zim Rise.

  5. Comment by nobukhosi bhebhe:

    Great stuff Tasha let the writer in you be seen and marvelled by the world. A great work of art.
    In bulawayo we are now paying $3000 for kombis and am left wondering about the civil servants who earns peanuts and have several mouths to feed. As for the kombi owner he is also in business and needs a turn over at the end of the day. Is a social contract really the solution to this dilema?

  6. Comment by daddy:

    You are so right Natasha, kinda brings back memories of when I started working and found ourselves complaining about how the boot of the famous 504 used to crease our style, one could barely wear white when you were a public transport victim. Vuala! enter the the sixteen seaters boy were we just so pleased, now this, another set of problems, (oops sorry I mean challenges the politically appropriate expression). The way I see it challenges beget challenges, just can’t help remembering again the other time my girl friend sat at that dreaded corner and she wouldn’t talk to me the whole journey, and I just said to my self ko bhebhi riri kutodyiwa ma half ka apa. Its sad though we are being abused and our culture of doing nothing makes us worse victims.