I had been planning on doing this study abroad program for over a year before I actually got on that plane a few weeks ago. I knew just about everything about it, stalked a few people who had done it before, and really thought that I knew what I was going to be in for when I got here.But as these things tend to go, nothing is like I had expected, al the things I was worried about are simple and the things I never thought would bother me are the weirdest to deal with (no good pickles). What I didn't expect though, was to have such a hard time believing that I was really in Africa and that this was really the life that I am leading. Even as we were loading our suitcases into the van on the way to the house once we landed, there was a similar sentiment in the group along the lines of, " No way is this Africa, I mean, its warm, but this can't really be Africa".
I've found myself explaining things away and associating them with places I've been. Downtown is basically New York City, Table Mountain is essentially just New Hampshire, the Commons could be in upstate New York, the backyard is basically in Florida, and even Cape Point felt a lot like Arizona. Well, Cape Point felt like Arizona until a baboon (seriously, a baboon!!) ran out and stole someone's sandwich. It took until that day, almost the end of orientation week for me to believe for even a second that I was actually in Africa.
Once I started being able to admit to myself that I was really here I could start noticing and falling in love with all of the eccentricities of this amazing country. Yesterday morning, a horse and buggy plodded past the house right behind a brand new toyota. The other day at work I spent some time looking around for a flower that had just been found that was previously thought to be extinct. Here in South Africa, we have proved that it is not. I don't know of anywhere else in the world where I could ever have this kind of range of experiences, in 3 weeks none the less.
I think that the most memorable "Africa" experience though is the minibus. Actually here it's just called a taxi, and what we Americans would think of as a taxi is called a "metered taxi" and you have to call for them and its quite different in price and life experience. There are actually another type of cab that we are fondly calling "sketchy cabs", and they are the kind that don't appear to have any kind of official license but wait outside of bars to drive you home. Now, I know that Chelsie talked about the minibuses in her entry, but my daily commute to work involves a roughly 45 minute ride there and back, so they've been on my mind.
I think that that first thing to know about minibuses is that everyone will make you think that they are some sort of crowded and terrifying experience, which makes you look at them entirely different that you would if you just saw them for the van that they are. Its hard to explain the general fear of the minibus that is instilled in you by stuffy white people who have likely never taken one in their lives. But once you realize that you are going to have to go to work and you are just going to have to get over it and get on the damn bus, you can be sure that you will see a whole side of Cape Town that you can be sure that the stuffy white lady never will notice through the windows of her BMW.
In the most practical, literal, sense, a minibus is a van with 15 seats and a driver. They come in a range of colors (mostly white and red), ages (from 30 years to 10 minutes old), and also in number of passengers required before it is determined to be "full". There is a sign in the front window that can be flipped one way or other and they run back and forth between hubs all day. (I take the one that goes from Mowbray to Belleville) There is a driver, and occasionally a "money guy". The prices are all quite cheap and its the most practical and affordable form of transport for the majority of Cape Town residents. For example, my ride is about 45 minutes, basically across the city (which is gigantic) and it costs R8. With the exchange rate what it is, thats about 80 cents. I google image searched a minibus taxi and got this, its not perfect, but it surely is a minibus. This picture actually comes up as well, and while its a poor image of exactly what a minibus is, its a much better impression of what a minibus is like, http://sarocks.co.za/wp-content/uploads/2007/03/mini-bus-taxi-owner.jpg
To get on a minibus is not hard, in fact, walking down the street its almost hard to not be convinced that you should surely be on a taxi going somewhere. Drivers will flash their lights and beep the horn, you will not miss them. If there is a cash guy, he also serves as a traveling, shouting advertisement for the end location of the taxi. (That is if you can understand the accent, Belleville sounds like be-Eh-vuh) In any case, there will be no doubt that a minibus is on the way and that they would love nothing more than to transport you somewhere. Its like getting a cab in New York, just stick your arm out or just think about wanting to get on and they'll know. So really its nothing like getting a cab in New York, actually. When I get home I'm going to wonder why cab drivers aren't dying for me to get in.
Once you get on, its a pretty standard van, (in varying states of falling apart, sometimes literally, as Hannah, Dan, and Steph O know well) there are 4 seats in the back and 3 in every other row. However, the minibus is not full until there are 4 in each row, and if its the type with an aisle, you would be surprised as how many people you can fit in that aisle. I heard this from Ben, our RA, and I don't doubt for a second that there have been stories of mini buses that have flipped over and everyone in it is still snugly seated after the roll.
When you want to get off the bus, you say "Thanks" or "Thank you, driver" and he will pull over and if you are seated in the back you begin the arduous process of crawling over 12 other people to go to work. Its a bit sweaty, sometimes it smells a little funky, and you always leave with a good story about some crazy person or situation. (Today my taxi driver got pulled over and we spent 20 minutes on the side of the road waiting for his ticket to be issued)
This is the technical end of what happens on a minibus, but there is no way to explain the feeling inside a minibus taxi. Its like the feeling you get in South Africa as a whole, at cafes and walking down the street, it can only be felt and experienced. No words or images could ever do it justice. I would like to suggest at this moment that everyone reading this hop a plane immediately and take the minibus right over to the house. Take the Mowbray line.
