Getting by

It's now coming on four weeks that the Metrobus has been on strike.  It's been interesting to observe how little attention the strike gets.  In that sense, it feels like it could go on forever.  I mean, what are the striking bus drivers doing?  What is Metrobus doing?  Certainly not updating their website with any news -- not even a single mention! -- of the ongoing strike.  There's just a feeling of ambivalence and listlessness.  Even news outlets seem to shrug.  Every couple of days I do a Google search for Metrobus news but rarely find anything worth reading.  On 702 one morning, John Robbie read an SMS from a disabled Metrobus rider asking for an update on the strike.  "It's still on."  Thanks for the insightful update.

I'm not ambivalent.  I actually miss the Metrobus.  I miss knowing my routes and the freedom I feel, particularly on Saturdays, when I can hop on and go anywhere.  I've been getting to work in the same piecemeal fashion described before, but it gets pretty tiring.  The excitement of the new challenge has long since worn off.  The Randburg CBD, through which Putco buses detour, ceases to be interesting after the tenth or so trip and reveals itself to be a bit of a dive.  I miss being able to use my pre-paid Metrobus card (with unused credit on it) and am tired of always having to have R10 and R20 notes on hand.  Going past Gandhi Square a couple of Saturdays ago was surreal: barren, but for some people and pigeons. 

But thank goodness I still have my trusty two feet, which I've been relying on more than ever.  A couple of weeks ago, I got stuck in one of the scariest, yet wildest and most exhilarating, thunderstorms I've ever seen, much less been trapped in.  Just as I was halfway along my hour-and-a-half walk from Helen Joseph to Killarney, lightening started striking all around me followed by instant, terrifying thunder.  Then the rain came and made quick work of soaking Westcliff Drive.  Within a few minutes, the road had enough standing water to rival a wading pool.

Trapped as I was and freaked out by the lightening, I pushed up against a cement wall, hoping that in some way it would protect me. I let some ivy form a rain barrier around my umbrella, although by then nothing could keep me from getting soaked.  There is a certain point when stuck in a rainstorm that you just have to embrace it and have a big laugh about how drenched you are and how flooded the roads.  I hid in my little leafy enclave for nearly 30 minutes until the rain finally slowed, and then sloshed through deep puddle after deep puddle on the way home to a dry bathrobe and a glass of wine.