A transporting tale with Togetherness at the wheel
MY PENULTIMATE column is, perhaps, the most asked for by readers over the years. It was the column that, in 1993, launched Togetherness Tshabalala, the demon taxi driver of Diepsloot. Togetherness’s career was triggered by Pretoria transport consultant Paul Browning. He suggested Gauteng’s “township taxis” could serve the preponderantly white suburbs.
Togetherness Amadeus Tshabalala jinks his Toyota Hi-Ace minibus (with BMW hubcaps) through Gauteng’s rushhour traffic.
He is a confident man of high spirits as evidenced by the stickers on his rear window: GOD LOVES TAXI DRIVERS and DEFEAT CONSTIPATION – TRAVEL BY TAXI.
On the front of his taxi, over a dent which, ominously, is in the shape of a large traffic cop with his arms out, is a notice: JUKSKEI PARK EXPRESS, INAUGURAL FLIGHT.
It’s Togetherness’s little joke.
We are witnessing an experimental journey of what is intended to become a daily service between Jukskei Park, Randburg and Joburg – a 25km journey that takes Togetherness 8.5 minutes if it’s not too busy and assuming he can occasionally use the pavements.
The percussion waves from Togetherness’s powerful radio cause the vehicle’s sides to rhythmically flex.
He hoots as he drives. Togetherness hoots at anything he sees including trees as is the custom of taxi drivers.
Aboard are a dozen white people. They do not come whiter. This is not due to fear. It is due to stark terror.
Take John Hilton. Never in his life has he done 0 to 100 km/h in six seconds – not in heavy traffic.
Denise Smith’s colour had changed to green-white as quickly as the last traffic light changed to red – a colour that, as is traditional among taxi drivers, Togetherness ignores.
He looks over his shoulder – for a full minute – asking passengers their desti- nations. Elsbeth Joubert, sitting right at the back, says Randburg centre. She really wants to go to Joburg but, suddenly, Randburg seems near enough.
She worries about how she will make her way from the back of the vehicle, but only fleetingly because the taxi has stopped just like a plane might stop up against a mountain.
Now everybody is in front in a warm, intimate heap.
Elsbeth alights as gracefully as anybody can with one knee locked behind the other. She is aware of people loosening her clothing and shouting: “Give her air!”
Togetherness bowls happily along Jan Smuts Avenue overtaking a police car chasing a getaway car. Togetherness overtakes the getaway car, exchanging boisterous greetings with the driver whom he appears to know. He is steering with his elbows because he needs his hands free to check the morning’s takings and to gesticulate to girls.
He announces: “Ladies and gentle- men, this is your captain. We will shortly be landing in Joburg. Please make sure your seatbelts are fastened and your seats are in the upright position.”
Piet Smit is chewing on his leather seatbelt. Togetherness had them specially made because he’d heard white passengers, on the rare occasions they used taxis, liked to bite on something.
The rear gunner in a passing taxi fires a brief but inaccurate burst as the Jukskei Express merges with a solid mass of in-bound traffic in much the same way that Togetherness’s ancestors merged with the 24th Welsh Regiment at Isandlwana.
He stops at his usual disembarkation point in the middle of a busy intersection and picks his teeth, patiently, while people sort out their legs and teeth before groping their way towards a street pole around which they can throw their arms.
By the time his passengers’ eyeballs have settled back in their sockets, Togetherness is halfway back for a second load.