…was threatened yesterday.
By a black dude, driving a minibus taxi.
With a tyre iron.
Because I did not push the car in front of me out of the way so that Mr Taxi-driver could cut past all the standing traffic, to push in right in the front of the queue, only to stop dead when he sees some more passengers.
And it’s not the first time it has happened either.
What follows is a rant. Might be seen as racist by some. Unfortunately, it’s basically a statement of fact. To be sure, the facts as I see them. Or rather as I experience them. I may be wrong. Maybe I should try and put myself in their shoes. Then again. Do they ever try and walk a metre in mine?
Such is the peak hour driving experience in SA these days.
It’s not enough that you have a whole bunch of idiotic drivers, people that can’t seem to look left or right, or are not able to use their indicators, or does not seem to care that there are a whole lot of people behind them.
You have to contend with taxi-drivers. Men. Always males. That drives as if the road is there just for their money-making pleasure.
Cutting in front of traffic, overtaking at blind rises, stopping whenever a random person holds up a hand flapping in some kind of signal.
One day is one day.
I will stop in front of him, get out of my car, rip the tyre iron from his hands and hit him with it!!
Of course, I’m white, so the retaliation will be swift and sure. The whole taxi full of people, and probably the surrounding 6 million taxi’s will stop and get out to take quick vengeance on the white oppressor that dares to stand up to them for whatever reason.
Because, you see, the thing is.
I must just keep quiet.
I must just sit in my little corner and take everything being thrown at me.
No matter who does the throwing. If they’re qualified to do it or not.
Because I’m labelled as the enemy, I have to keep quiet, and never say anything.
I must continue to feel guilty. Must continue to show contrition. For something I have absolutely no control over.
For just the fact that I was born the way I was.
For now, I suppose I’m going to have to sit in my corner and keep quiet.
Always remembering, the wheel turns. I might be at the bottom now, but I will not stay there forever.
One day is one day.