BEWARE THE GUNG-HO GUIDE

Unsolicited assistance turns an easy train trip into a game of dodg’em

numerous middle-of-nowhere stations. We find it interesting that every time it stops, it feels like it is breaking down. But every time, it slowly comes back to life and we are soon gliding away.

Our “guide” is quite an attraction. People are queuing for her attention, with some even coming from the other compartments.

We just cannot suppress our curiosity. Is she a religious healer or some herbalist? Is she selling alcohol or is it drugs? No, it can’t be alcohol — we would have seen her carrying it into the train. Is she organising bogus travel documents?

We have been travelling for more than two hours when suddenly a group of people crowd by our seat around the entrance. We presume they are preparing to get off at the next stop. Without the train having stopped, we are shocked to see these people suddenly running outside on the rails.

While still blinking crazily, trying to make sense of that, we hear the barking of our “guide” from about six seat rows away: “Get ready, we are approaching Komatipoort!” she barks, pointing at us.

People turn to look at us as she charges in our direction like a tsunami.

“In case you have not yet exchanged …” she says, spreading out different-coloured notes. Wololo! So she is the forex bank. Then somebody calls for her attention just as the train stops. Without a word, we disappear into the crowds and disembark.

The train empties all of us into a fenced-in area. By the small gate are train inspectors checking and collecting tickets. So that is why some jumped off the train just before it pulled into this station!

It is only when we are in the taxi to Maputo that we feel safe enough to celebrate losing our “guide”. — Sizakele Gumede is a freelance writer