Lunga Adam, Lower Crossroads
The year 2024 has so far meant different things to different people, but I am sure most will agree that the return of trains on the Central Line was a welcome piece of good news.
After all, life on the tracks has a heartbeat of its own, much different to the hustle and bustle associated with the road, whose users often spend hours on end commuting to and from work. Traffic in the morning and afternoon peak hours is often a nightmare in this province, more so on the N2 highway en route to town.
And so I flashed a smile as wide as Table Mountain when I heard a few months ago that the train service would be returning to the Khayelitsha to Cape Town route, albeit in limited form for now due to ongoing work to restore some of the stations back to functionality.
These stations were left in a state of ruin due to vandalism and years of neglect since before the service was halted years ago.
For all the state-owned enterprises’ well-documented shortcomings, credit needs to be given to the Passenger Rail Agency of SA for continuous efforts to bring the much-needed service back, and hopefully a full restoration is just around the corner.
Travelling by train is a convenient and cheaper option for many, and in an economy like ours, every cent saved goes a long way. To think that a single ticket from Nolungile to Cape Town will set you back R9, while the taxi fare covering the same distance is triple that amount. A bus trip is no longer that cheap too, with the ever-rising costs of diesel and other factors to take into consideration.
Having used the new, blue-coloured and more modern trains for more than a month now, commuting to and from work, I have found myself gripped by a sense of nostalgia, longing for a time when the train was abuzz with a mixture of characters.
This often added a layer of entertainment to the overall experience. Remember the so-called “dagga carriage”, which was the reserve of those who literally puffed and passed and the broader Rastafarian community? Then, on the opposite end, would be the impromptu religious sermons, with men of God going full-steam ahead. Notable about their modus operandi was that some had a polite way of delivering “the Word”, while others had an acerbic tongue, telling it like it is. The latter stepped on a lot of toes.
The informal traders were part of the furniture of this unique experience, what with their own manner of looking to catch attention. Whatever you needed, be it iyeza leempuku (rat poison), umhlabelo (concoction used to treat injuries and fractures), iwaslap (face cloth), uMadubhula (a household disinfectant), super glue, an apple, etc, you would find it in an instant. It is rather unfortunate that the regulations on the new trains have left these souls behind, as informal trading is strictly prohibited.
But hey, we have to move with the times, I guess. At least the more modern train offers a sense of safety and security. For example, its doors only open once it comes to a stop at a station, while the train will also not move from a station until all doors are shut. That means chances of being mugged inside the locomotive are next to nil as the windows also are designed in such a way they can’t be opened. It also helps that security guards and police officers are always within sight in the train, which is one long carriage as opposed to the previous multiple carriages.
I really am impressed.
What drove me to write this, however, is my pleasant ride of Monday September 23.
I hopped onto the 9.29am train at Stock Road station headed for Cape Town, and had the good fortune of sitting next to an old man. Although I was seated “next” to him, there were about three seats separating us as the train was far from full.
I noticed he was busy sifting through a pile of documents. Just after we reached Philippi, he turns to me and says, “Heee mfana, ndicela undibhalele apha ngesilungu,” handing me a piece of paper and a pen. Of course I was more than happy to help, so I moved closer and started writing as he shared information with me in Xhosa, which I had to write down in translated form, to the Queen’s language. It did not take me long to recognise I had a rare breed in my company, whose wisdom and incredible sense of humour shone through via his wisecracks.
As it turns out, the issue at play here was a title deed dispute, a deeply personal matter that had me invested lock, stock and barrel with every word inked.
It seemed to me like an affidavit, and this one particular instruction – “Me is very angry, bhala” – floored me.
After I handed the senior citizen his piece of paper and pen back, with an entire page filled of words, he introduced himself as Baw’ uKhwange from Site C, and I immediately recognised him (or at least his voice) as a regular caller to Radio Zibonele back in the day. In fact, he won a Best Listener award from the station back in 2013.
The legend was now warming up to me. He said, “Since you’ve been of great help to me, young man, I thought I should let you know that I am quite passionate about people owning houses. I have helped a lot of people in that regard and I’m even exposing a lot of corruption in the housing sector. Wait a minute… do you have data?” Slightly confused, I answered in the affirmative, to which he continued, “Go to Google, then search City of Cape Town’s Housing Needs Register.”
Once I was on the website, he patiently took me through the process of applying to be on the database, and was even on bended knee, telling me, “The process is so easy, awuzubuzwa kwenda kuka mama wakho pha.”
Before I knew it, the application was deemed a success, which I must say somehow pleased him more than it did me.
We then exchanged numbers, and he asked that I pay him a visit in Site C one of these days, if only to treat him to some pork.
By now, other commuters had taken an interest in our conversation, breaking out into fits of laughter every time he opened his mouth.
Next thing I know, he takes out a Bible and asks me to read aloud some verses he was keen to bring to our attention. The strange coincidence is that all these verses centred around women, while there were a couple of members of the opposite sex within earshot.
He first asked me to put my recorder on as he was about to deliver a special message, which he wanted me to spread via Facebook. “Yixhome mfo,” as he put it. What a man.
The 68-year-old cited verse 15 from Imizekeliso 7 (Proverbs 7) from the Xhosa version of the New Testament.
He chastised those who put a stain on Christianity with their promiscuous ways. When one young lady tried to interject in defence of women, he swiftly told her, “Thula wena, awukendi nokwenda.”
Just then, the train arrived in town. What a spiritually enriching morning. You will be hard-pressed to find such experiences anywhere else other than on the legendary Central line.
For decades now, it has been home to characters like Baw’ uKhwange. Dear old man, see you soon in Site C.
