A better day

I had to sprint through traffic to catch the Wynberg-bound taxi. I just stuck my hand out in an apologetic gesture and hoped that the driver of the white car that stalled to an uneasy stop uncomfortably close to me understood my haste. I was already running late and didn't want to risk waiting on the pavement watching the Golden Arrows puff by in their smokey crawl. I stepped inside the taxi and looked around, no empty seats. "Where must I go?" I asked the gaaitjie. He pulled the door closed behind me as I stood hunched over him and pointed to a spot next to the driver's seat, there on the otherside of two pairs of legs. I leant over and held onto someone's shoulder, an unseen hand reached out, pulling my elbow, and I swung onto the small cushioned platform, one foot underneath me, the other dangling somewhere behind the front passenger seat.
"Sit forward!" the driver suggested to me. I held onto his head rest and demanded:
"Do I look like an acrobat my friend?"
He laughed and said fine, "as long as you're comfortable, sister."
I assured him I was. 

While having a sit-down and chat with a friend at a cafe overlooking the Main Road in Rondies, I started to hear some music that seemed a little too vibrant for a taxi sound-system. As the music got louder, I realized it was moving. Over the road, on the corner of the Woolworths where the homeless couple sit, a bunch of four men in orange robes danced along. Two had big drums, one had an accordion, one handed out flyers. One of the beggars at the intersection joined in the jam, so did two or three students walking past. There's a Hare Krishna temple nearby, I assume that's where they came from. The music moved up the Main Road, mixed with the hoots and grumbles of the traffic. The four men in their orange robes, joined sporadically by pedestrians: I found them almost hypnotic.

About half an hour later, they returned, now on my side of the road. They paused at the petrol station behind me, the attendants left their pumps to dance with them. I waved as they walked by, smiled and got up for a quick wiggle. The man with the accordion returned my smile and sang louder. His friend passed me a flyer inviting me to join them for yoga and a "sumptuous vegetarian feast." I continued to wiggle, maybe I even jived a little there on the pavement. My companion laughed, "making friends again, Jen?"
"Yip!" I was happy to answer.

Came home, perused Facebook. First couple of posts in my newsfeed are all links to the Equal Education 'Build the Future' youtube, friends sharing with friends sharing with friends. I also saw some updates that showed how the non-profit that a couple of my friends started a few years ago is so beyond thriving it's basically recalibrating the youth development scene in Cape Town. For lunch today, I read Bottles' paper on transitional justice, I was all: YOH, not only can she drink her body weight in alcoholic beverages, but here is a woman who knows what is what.

So yeah, South Africa may not be doing all that well right now. But as long as we're working for change, as long as we'll offer each other shoulders and arms to steady ourselves in a moving taxi, and as long as we can dance in the street with strangers, I think we're going to be fine. We'll be fine.