Joburg taxis are weird

So, I was recently thrown into the wild world of Joburg taxis for a job shadowing opportunity in Industria West and let me tell you, it was a ride.

Now you’re probably thinking: “What rock has this girl been living in that she hasn’t hopped on a Joburg taxi?”

Well, that rock is called Bethal, a little town in Mpumalanga where taxis are decent and people actually enjoy the ride.

But Joburg taxis? Oh, honey, that’s a whole different beast.

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I’m usually the adventurous type, game for trying new things. But Joburg taxis? Never again.

I was clinging on for dear life as doors flapped open on the highway and seats disintegrated beneath us on sharp turns.

Yes, people had to stand up before we hit a curve, or they’d end up in a heap on the floor. Speaking of floors, ours was basically nonexistent, transparent my dear.

I could see the road whizzing by under my feet. And just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, I saw a lady comfortably seated on the engine – yes, you read that right… the engine.

She was so comfortable it looked as if it were her personal throne.

My inner drama queen was on high alert, praying fervently to reach my destination in one piece. But traffic, that merciless beast, had other plans.

On my way back to Sandton, my home sweet home while in Joburg, I ended up hopelessly lost.

Picture this: a lone girl, navigating the dark streets of Johannesburg – which aren’t so dark any more, thanks to our recent electricity boom – it was not an ideal situation.

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Desperate, I flagged down a police car. They rolled down the window, only to tell me they had no idea where they were.

“You’re patrolling this area my sister, how do you not know?”

At this point, I seriously considered writing an article titled “How not to get lost in Joburg”.

When all hope seemed lost, a taxi driver saved the day. Not only did he answer my frantic questions kindly, but he also insisted I hop into his taxi for safety, ensuring I found the right ride home.

So, despite looking like patched-up hazards, Joburg taxis have a weird charm. I’d choose the rattling, bustling taxi over a clueless police car any day.

Because, at least in a taxi, you’re among survivors, ready to take on the urban jungle together.