Memorable Taxi Journeys

The interesting part of public transport in Lesotho is with the taxis, or takesis. It can be a large mini van, a venture (SUV sort), or some other form of larger than a car vehicle. There is a driver and a money collector and perhaps 7-10 limited seats. And unfortunately, in these vehicles, people try to bring many things back to their homes. The van gets crammed, more crammed than I have ever been in America, but still not terrible. You usually can still sit, without your butt having to be off an edge or on someone. The taxi gets quite hot, and Basotho insist on never opening a window. It is like sitting in a moving sauna, but grimier because people enjoy coughing on you, not into the window or into their hands, but they look at you, aim carefully, and then cough. I have definitely been exposed to a variety of people with TB, but lets just hope for the best that nothing has been contracted. In addition, people love to try to talk to Americans, the only problem is the driver blasts “Famu” music as loud as physically possible. The speakers are almost always blown, and rattle to the point where the not-majorly-enjoyable music is even less enjoyed. Famu music is with an accordion, sometimes electronic sounds as well, and its hard to really give more description because its just too loud to decipher. One time I tried to cover my ears, where I could still definitely hear the music, and everyone was wondering why I hated the music. They asked me, and since it was so loud I read their lips, and I just couldn’t get the point across that sitting under the speaker makes it very difficult for me to converse. They are very polite though; if you get a call the music gets so quiet. Maybe I should fake talking to someone on the phone?
Now come the interesting stories; the background information on taxis is now sufficient for these stories to make sense.
On the way to Mokhotlong for Site Visit:
One of the first experiences I had. It wasn’t really that bad, but I believe being of a smaller stature the drivers generally try to wedge me into places normal humans cannot fit. There were two very, very large Bo-‘M’e in the back of a venture. I could tell by the look of them that there was certainly a cloud of TB encapsulating them both. Somehow he made them spread just what I could tell as 6 inches across and I sat. Both were old, and fat. They had very stretchy saggy skin on their thighs that overflowed into my designated seat. When I sat, I felt as though I was slipping back and forth, on and off their slippery skin, my arms were pushed inwards into my chest cavity and somehow lodged in front. To this day I am not sure how my arms were not dislodged to get in that position or how I did not slip off my seat. It became so hot and humid in that confined area for 4 hours that I was forced into an unconscious state. Slept almost instantaneously. Woke up and there I was, in the camp town of Mokhotlong, drenched in grime and sweat but with no recollection of how much worse it could have been!
Now honestly, travelling by public isn’t terrible, or so I thought until I tried Christmas time travel.I was waiting in the taxi rank at 3pm. I had just bought a very elaborate painting of an African scene with photo-shopped animals all throughout the picture. It made me laugh quite a bit, so I felt it imperative to buy and hang in my home. Usually a taxi for Fobane is always there, but this time none appeared. It began to rain slightly, so I used my painting to cover my book bag, which contained my precious laptop and electronics. To make the time pass, I decided to relax under a tin roof of an open-air shack shop with many Bo-‘M’e (many ‘M’e’s or mothers, older women, etc.). It was about two hours and I was getting hungry, so I bought some plums (pronounced plooms here). I ate so many, and bought more to take back. Red plums: amazing. It was now 5:00pm, and I was getting worried because it takes an hour to get to my place and I wanted to be back before 7:30pm or dark.
Luckily, someone from my village showed up, Ntate Chaps. He decided to wait with me because he too was trying to get home. A car then showed up at about 6:00pm. As soon as I picked up my painting, the hatchback trunk of the venture flung open, and about 10 people rushed and climbed over each other to get in. It reminded me of Black Friday where people have died in Walmart. Ntate Chaps pushed me back so I wouldn’t get mangled. I decided, its better to wait for the later one with my fellow colleague than try to fight for a spot. But this car did not leave for another hour for some reason. And in that hour, I found out a young boy whom I am a friend with told the driver I am not to be travelling at dark, and that I must go in this venture. Well, neither of the women would leave their spot, and I don’t blame them. Somehow the driver opened the trunk again, where the winners of the earlier tussle were sitting crammed more than even I thought possible after having travelled by taxi before. I literally did not see even a sliver of space. One woman held a gigantic box full of items, onions, toys, etc. Under the seats were super maize meal and flour. A 14-year old child was sitting on another woman, and the other woman was holding gigantic plastic bags, and mind you this is only the trunk. In addition, the trunk also contained another man with beads in his hair with a 14kg gas canister and another woman whose arms were lodged up in the air as she was texting. The driver told me to get in. And I looked puzzled. So I asked, what about my bag and my painting? So he took them and gave them both to random people in the car in the front. The painting was lodged right behind the driver, so he was forced to drive without putting his head back. My laptop bag, I had no idea, and I was quite concerned.
He came back, and said get in. So I was still confused, because there literally was no space. He told me to sit on a woman’s lap, a very elderly fat woman, who was patting her thigh and smiling as indication for, “please sit my child.” Ntate chaps helped push my body into this monster of a situation, so I did what I did and sat on her lap. He tried a good 4 minutes, and eventually closed the trunk door. And we were off. I had maybe 1.5 feet of space for my upper body so I was well bent over into the face of the child. She smiled, and coughed, so I smiled, and thought about my Vitamin C pill back at home. The main road back to my home has the deepest potholes, so we swerved back and forth for about 30 min. Meanwhile I noticed a Donald Duck sticker who was giving the middle finger back at me, and everyone kept asking me my name and complimented me on my Sesotho. I was relieved when the music turned on and it was smooth jazz at a tolerable volume. I periodically stood off the woman and pressed myself against the trunk door, which I could feel opening at times. After about 45 minutes we were now on the bumpiest of roads so the knee of the woman began to hurt while my left leg lazily slipped into a numbing slumber. My precious plums had crushed on the leg of the little girl underneath the box of items. I am fortunate, that it did not crush on me I do have to say. We got to the first stop by the end of the hour, and the woman whose lap I intimately got to know was attempting to leave the car. Problem was, the door now was jammed, and only my hand was able to move in the position appropriate to open. I had no room to reach my hand their, but somehow my flexible elbow bent in a way I think only Guinness Records could surpass, and I gave the handle a turn and a shove and after numerous attempts it sprang open with a rush of cold air entered the bacterial sweaty air I had been inhaling. Luckily lap-woman had the most things, and the car was emptied of the gigantic items. I ran to the front of the car to look for my fragile bag, which was crammed into the floor space of another woman, so I retrieved it to salvage the electronics. We rode comfortably back home, and left the vehicle. My painting still in tact and computer functioning at peak possibility. Christmas is a crazy time here, but the stories I gain from every uncomfortable situation make it just that much better.

I am currently updating this post while in a taxi. It broke down and we are waiting crammed together for it to work. Then I just saw a man driving while reading a magazine. This country so far cannot cease to surprise me.
Later I will be posting about the best mode of transportation in Lesotho, luxury hitches.
Happy Holidays! I know I am enjoying them, even though Summer during Winter is oddly confusing.