The Truculent Passenger

By Omoseye Bolaji

The taxi driver barked: “This money does not total what it is supposed to be. One of you passengers has not paid! Who is it?”

Many of the passengers in the taxi froze. It was rare indeed for such a situation to happen in public transport “taxis” (more like buses really) in South Africa. People normally contribute the disparate fares and pay up in almost choreographed fashion. Indeed on a personal note I must congratulate South Africans for this frequent, quite axiomatic display of honesty and integrity.

But right now, there were ripples in the pond as it were. One of the commuters was not being honest. Everybody stared at each other, with mild, rather shocked inquisition. Who was it that had not paid? Would he or she own up? In such rare cases such a miscreant would quickly own up, apologise, and pay up. But not today. The man on my left stared at me knowingly. We both knew who the malefactor; the man who had not paid up!

Actually the man was seated exactly on my right; the seat beside me. When he entered the taxi he had been belligerent, drunk and raucous. When I and the gentleman on my left signaled that he should pay up he had shaken his head and we had left it like that. But not any longer. I was not about to speak up; but the worthy on my left now announced:

“Actually we know the person who has not paid…it’s this man here – “ he pointed at the man on my right. “We asked him for his fare but he refused to pay up. Ntate, why don’t you want to pay?”

The man so accused, truculently stared at everybody; seemingly fidgeting around. “I have paid,” he lied. “You definitely have NOT” the man on my left reiterated. “Why are you doing this? Can’t you see the driver is angry now?”

The driver of the car swiveled around and stared at the belligerent man who had not paid. “Why don’t you want to pay?” he enquired. “Do you think everybody here is a fool? We operate on a principled, honest basis, but now you are upsetting the apple cart…” His face suddenly hardened and he brought the vehicle to a halt on the left side of the road.

“Please pay, Ntate;” many of the commuters said to the miscreant. “See all the trouble you are causing. The driver has stopped now!”

Indeed the driver of the bus (“taxi” in SA) was quite angry now. And the man on my right could see it. The driver threw open the main door and pointed at the miscreant: “Come here…out of my taxi… hona jwale! (now)” The man at the centre of this storm, realizing he could not get away with any chicanery now tried a belated apology. “I’m sorry my friend…” he started.

“Out of my bus!” The driver said. “I want no crook inside here. I’d rather make a loss from your seat,”

The malefactor was out of the bus now, belatedly brandishing his taxi fare. “Here is the money; I’m sorry,” he said.

With shocking swiftness and violence, the driver grabbed the man by his hand and threw him in the ditch. “Out! Out! I don’t want you in my vehicle!” And he entered the bus again and got ready to drive off.

My mind went back to the “old days” in Lagos Nigeria when “molues” the big, big commuter buses were all the rage. I thought about how difficult it must have been to be something of a conductor in those days as there were so many people, commuters to deal with as it were. How well I remembered the refrain “San wo e…san wo eh…” “Pay up; else!” with those conductors of yore sort of puffing themselves up in pugnacious fashion!

But now in South Africa the bus drove on….