If you want to see life, taking the metro is one way to do so. I don't mean Life, as in jet setting, bungi jumping, Big 5, scuba diving, sushi and 5 star cabernet. I just mean life, with a small "l".
This morning, I took up my usual seat by the window. I say window, but you have to understand that the perspex is so scratched and/or graffiti'd that they might as well replace it with masonite. Well, at least it lets some light in. The benches in the "old carriages" (they are all antediluvian, but some are just older than others) are arranged as three-seaters and two-seaters, facing one another in pairs. Not the most efficient seating pattern but there you are. I normally opt for a two-seater as they tend to be less of a crush, but the two-seater where I was, was downwind of the window, and the window didn't shut properly, so I went for the larger one. When we got to Muizenberg a man got in and sat beside me. He was so large (in all directions - very tall but also very fat) that he took up both seats. He wore shorts and a large teeshirt, strecthed tight over his somewhat pendulous gut. I tried not to stare in case he took offense and decided to throw me out the broken window - he looked as though he could easily have done so. I waited in interest to see what would happen. As normally happens, the train filled up fast at Steenberg and Retreat stations. Soon there was standing room only and the spaces next to the doors were overcrowded. Folk were standing in the passageway as well. Yet noone tried to edge into the third seat on our three-seater bench. I guess they felt they might be smothered, or else that a man so large must surely be sweaty and malodorous. Or maybe they thought that about me! He eventually decided to get off - at Mowbray I think - and I was delighted to see two people take up the space that he vacated. One often hears jokes told along those lines, but this was for real - he gave up his seat to two ladies.
Coming home I was treated to something different. I was in one of the "new" carriages - they have the seating arranged longitudinally along the sides, with more space in the middle. I found a seat near the end of the carriage and was getting out my headphones and Blackberry, planning on listening to a podcast or audiobook, when my ears were accosted by music. Of sorts. Three people were edging their way sideways down the center of the carriage, two of them holding hands. I think one, maybe two, of them were blind, and being led by the third. One had an electronic keyboard strung around his neck on which he was plonking out what we would call a "three chord wonder" - tonic major, sub-dominant major, tonic major, dominant seventh, repeated ad nauseam. The other two were singing - one an octave below the other, in unison. I know not what - it sounded like a scripture song or hymn, but I didn't recognize it. What was interesting was that there was little or no relation between the key being played in on the keyboard and the key the singers were belting forth in. They were in tune with each other, but not with the instrument. I expected it to correct, but it never did. They simply sidled their way into the next carriage and I didn't see them again. I should mention that such performances are not uncommon, although I haven't heard one quite this bad before. We quite often have duets - a blind woman led by a sighted man or vice versa. Some of them are quite good, even harmonizing. The lyrics seem invariably to be fairly simple three liners, sometimes in English, sometimes in isiXhosa, sometimes in a mix of the two. It makes a nice change to the usual hum of the wheels on the rails, the conversation and the occasional unwanted juke box. If I have some small change I am happy to throw it into the tin when it comes round.
Metro trains are by and large fairly reliable, even given what everyone says about them. At least that is my take. It may have something to do with the particular train I take or the line which I use - I gather the "central lines" are far less reliable than the "southern line". But all trains have problems now and then. I have been stuck on the London underground and the Washington metro more than once. So it was that at the end of a one hour trip on a hot afternoon we trundled out of Kalk Bay, past Clovelly, and crossed over the Silvermine River and then ... stopped. About 100m from Fish Hoek station, which was the terminus. And so we sat .. and sat .. and sat. In think for about 10 minutes. Now in London or DC when this happens the driver is very quick to get on the PA and tell everyone not to worry and what the problem is. Cape Town metro trains do not have such a facility. They have a PA at the stations but nothing on the trains. So you have no way of knowing whether you are waiting for a train to come past, or whether the engine is broken and in no hope of recovery. To make it worse, the doors are locked, pushing the emergency button does nothing (I didn't try but someone else did), and the windows are too small to get out. You could conceivably jump off from the gap between the carriages, but it looked decidedly unsafe and foolhardy and was almost certainly illegal. So we sat. Most of us, being on our way home, were not too stressed. We found another track to listen to on the iPod or simply carried on reading our books. There were however, two young ladies - they looked about 19 - who were incensed by what had happened. One in particular looked in the mood to commit murder. It was she who tried the emergency button. When nothing happened she stuck her head out the window and shouted very loudly, "Hey, driver, drive this f**king train, already!". Of course no one responded. She then threatened to do the jump, but her friend persuaded her not to. So she did the only thing she could - phoned her mother, and had a long and loud conversation with her about how useless Metrorail was and what an idiot the driver was. We were all very glad when the train eventually lurched forward again. I was still home by 6.30, in time for dinner.
Then there are the vendors. They hang out at Cape Town station - I haven't seen them anywhere else. They sell anything from newspapers to cold drinks, to sweets and chips. They move rapidly from carriage to carriage during the five to ten minutes before a train is about to leave, plying their wares, telling everybody what they are selling and at what price in a language which roughly approximates English. I haven't quite worked out how they manage to get onto the platform - normally one needs a valid ticket. There must be some sort of special dispensation for them. They perform a valuable service, but I do wonder what happens to all the litter. On the DC metro one is not allowed to eat or drink at all. In London one is. I like to munch an apple or banana when I am on the train, specially in the morning, but getting rid of the core or skin is problematic, and I usually have to take it with me when I get off.
For all the problems - torn seats, graffiti, dirty floors, dirty walls, dirty windows, lack of air-conditioning, breakdowns, cancelled trains, cable theft, and I could go on ... rail travel has a charm which even these have not robbed it of, and for now I am happy to be a rail commuter. It is definitely much greener, definitely much cheaper, and generally more convenient when it comes to parking and the like. I have now read 300 pages of Armstrong's "Holy War" and listened to a half a dozen podcasts as well. I am walking 15km a week just to and from the stations. Where is the argument then? And now we hear that our government plans to spend some vast sum of money of rail upgrades over the next 5 years, partly to create jobs. Wonderful, say I. Oil is about to run out, petrol prices can only go up, we don't yet have an affordable hybrid car, let alone an electric one. I'm all for it.
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