Roadkill

Many a day I've seen road kill on Edendale Road. Actually at least once a month I see a fresh specimen, victims of hit and runs. Never buried, arguably mourned. The chickens I can guarantee are mourned by hungry dissatisfied stomachs lingering in nearby settlements. Pardon me, I am told to edit this blog and call this road Moses Mabhida/ Selby Msimang road. Amandla

Anyway, nobody removes the carcass on the road. Not even the municipal people who burn the grass on the sidewalk.  We all run over it till it disappears dispersed within the treads of our tyres, the smell of fresh death reminding us how lucky we are to be well, alive unlike them.

So many have fallen on this road. So many forgotten! So this blog is a tribute to all. 

To the dogs:

Tiger (2004- 2011)

Rex (2009- 2011) Bet you weren't as fast as you thought ey?

Spotty (2008- 2011)

Danger (2009-2011)

Puppy (2006-2011)

It’s obvious that your masters weren't as loyal to you as you were to them. For that I am sorry. Perhaps your future generations will have a better fate.

To the cats: 

Jimmy (2010-2011) The nine lives thing was a hoax. But you had to go and find out for yourself didn’t you?

Kati (2008-2011) 

Please don’t come to us in our dreams.

The chickens:

Ranger (Dec 2010- March 2011)

Mlenzana (June 2010- 18 August 2011)

Why did you cross the road?
I know you guys weren’t referred to by name, but you knew your worth didn’t you? So did I.

And to the countless unnamed but equally violated and abandoned that came long before you, whether you had masters or wondered as free souls.  Rest In Peace. Or as our minister of Sport once stated: “Rest in Peaces”.

White South Africans wouldn't know (Unless you were a Peace Corps Volunteer)

So yeah I'm writing this to vent because I'm upset. While I agree that this is not the case everywhere in South Africa as not even all minibus taxi services have conductors, many will agree. There’s just an increasing disregard for the passengers.

I think the main reason for this is that fact that the vast majority of this country relies on the minibus taxi services to get around but I live in Pietermaritzburg and over here it’s just getting out of hand. The taxis here are first of all incredibly overpriced compared to the rest of the country. And then there’s too much of them so the competition is crazy, this inflated by the fact that there are no local municipal busses. Heck, the only busses that operate here are from the outer areas and even then like twice a day.

So what’s my problem?
I am not a snob, I just hate being harassed over which taxi to get into. I walk towards the taxi rank, my eyes and ears are wide open. I can see which taxis are going to my destination. Even if I miss it, someone’s hollering it anyway. What knots my panties is when the conductors run at me like I'm meat and start tugging at me from all angles as if the first one to touch me has ownership of my taxi fare and is now  entitled to have me as a passenger. It’s just harassment! I understand that times are hard and a brothers just hustling but entering my personal space and groping about at my jersey is NOT going to convince me that I must ride in your bus.

So now all passengers are victims and men alike suffer the same fate but I must admit they have it easier. They don't just tug at men, they talk to them first and then sort of guide them (like blind people) by the arm. I wish I could say the same for women. Old women have their shopping carried for them getting in, but see for themselves getting out(most cases). Young women are just pulled, sometimes even they will argue over the pulling.

This morning the conductor was shouting at me his motion of how I should get into his taxi and not the next because he stopped first and both are empty even though I didn't stop the taxi myself. Brother didn't want to hear me speak, he was shouting. When I ignored him he then blocked my path and started pulling me towards his taxi. Absolute disregard for me as a person, he just got to fill up his taxi. I'm just meat and pocket change. I was furious! Late as I was for work I just wanted to scream and cry and smack the bastard! The audacity to treat me like that because I am female and no match to him physically. A guy would've just boxed him. Better yet, he wouldn't have done that to a brother.

So this is just another darkie thing really, I'm not trying to get white people upset (as glamorous as it sounds). But if you know of a  white person who's experienced this, one that's not a Peace Corps Volunteer, please share the story. White, not Indian or coloured.

Crocs

This morning, running my bath water, I was wondering around in my own private thoughts when suddenly I spotted these pink, unnecessarily protruding large shoes on my feet. Pink of all colours! How on earth had I managed to buy them? Then I remembered that fad that even had me hooked, and I'm no follower. Surely the credit must be given to excellent advertising. Crocs? I had Crocs!
The first time I saw those shoes was in a tiny shopping centre in Pietermaritzburg. Two handsome white boys, early 20's, in usual surfer boy gear proudly rocking their crocs in different colours. I thought to myself, the surfers traded slops for that? Seriously? I understood that white people came up with most fads and that pop culture would get to a few but how does a lady turn from heels to crocs?  How do all people turn from rocking addidas boots and Nikes to crocs? Crocs!
And that's when I started noticing more and more of those ghastly shoes. People I trusted, wearing them. People I sometimes looked up to. Heck, the whole world was wearing crocs, there were even accessories. People were buying them in assorted colours and you could even get fake ones on the street! Yes, black people were wearing crocs proudly!
Sometime mid- varsity I thought to myself, what the heck Kay; let’s see what the fuss is all about. I went into a shop, tried on a pair and...
Oh the joy! The soothing comfort! The ease of walking (which soon became an excuse to drag my feet), the lightness! I had found the light in crocs, my feet were saved!
And that’s where it started. Crocs soon replaced my all stars, my lovely sandals, my flip-flops, my slippers, no not my heels (lol NEVER), and my addidas boots. They were perfect in summer! My other shoes only triumphed if the weather persuaded so. And the fact that my crocs were pink did not bother my dress code at all. They were crocs. They were allowed to be whatever colour they wanted to be, in any outfit. I did not bother to buy another pair to match colours. Crocs made perfect sense and if you said otherwise, you probably hadn't tried them. Grandmas gave up Green Cross shoes for Crocs. Shoe sales went down. In Pietermaritzburg, Poebe Naidoo's was making a fortune from Crocs sales alone! This was revolutionary shoe comfort! I remember some of my fashion fundi friends shaking their heads sadly at my new discovery. I didn’t care. Crocs had saved my feet. And my budget.
I don’t remember when I stopped wearing my crocs in public. It happen when I moved home from university. I don’t know why, probably because they don’t look ok hey. I don’t see people wearing crocs in public anymore either. Even the vendors on the streets have stopped selling them. It’s been years. Whatever happened to crocs? Mine are just morning shoes now.