Exploring South Africa’s minibus taxis

The country’s most common form of transport can be intimidating and varies greatly city by city, here is a short insight into taxis in the Eastern Cape

Four short stories about South African minibus taxis that illustrate why they are wonderful and terrifying all at the same time…

I’ve always either had my parents to take me places, a motorbike or a car. Thus, my reliance on public transport in South Africa has always been minimal.

Having lived in Cape Town in my teens and now living in Johannesburg I’ve always been aware of what we call “taxis”. Now, before you jump to conclusions, taxis in South Africa are not small yellow five-seaters with a sign on the roof. In fact here we call those cabs, while taxis are in fact minibuses that drive along a fixed route and are shared by many people.

South Africa is full of racial tension, even today still, unfortunately. I must sadly admit that I had a very stereotypical sheltered white upbringing, i.e. a nice house, good school and parents to take me places, or later motorbikes and cars.

South African cities are incredibly hard to navigate unless you have a car. Reliable, regular bus service is a myth, subways don’t exist and bicycles are not safe from the raging road users. Taxis transport the masses, 65% of all public transport is by taxi according to road safety awareness initiative Arrive Alive.

Suffice it to say that I had never really had much experience with taxis. Most white people in South Africa would either have a car or take a bus or train in some cities. Taxis have always had a stigma of being dangerous, both in terms of personal as well as road safety, they seemed unreliable and something the poor were stuck with that the more affluent chose not to use.

Over the years my perspective naturally changed, I’ve come to realize that taxis are an indispensable backbone of the South African economy and in fact one now sees a much more racially diverse set of taxi passengers. Be it a domestic worker, accounting student or middle-aged professional.

So now, for the point of my story: I just got back from Port Elizabeth, one of South Africa’s larger cities, situated in the Eastern Cape. Having taken one or two taxis in Cape Town and quite a few in Johannesburg, I had never been reliant on taxis as I would now be in PE for 8 days with no car.

I was very pleasantly surprised by the friendliness and overall atmosphere of the taxis in PE as compared to Cape Town and Johannesburg. I’d like to share four stories of taxi rides in PE last week.

One day I was on my way to the university (NMMU) and was running a little late for a meeting. As we’re about 2.5km away the taxi starts slowing and coasting. I soon realize that the engine is off and the driver is trying to restart it. We’ve run out of petrol.

We roll to a halt, really not that far away from campus. I’m debating whether to wait for the conductor (the guy that shouts out stops to passing pedestrians hoping for a fare and collects the money, found in PE and Cape Town, not in Johannesburg), or whether I should walk the remaining 1-2km.

After a few minutes, one passenger having left us to walk, presumably to the much nearer North Campus, another taxi pulls up ahead of us and the guy sitting next to me says we’re switching to the other taxi.

Long story short, the other taxi dropped us off on campus, no additional charge, but best of all: the other taxi driver, who was doing us a favour and had no doing in our delay, apologized to us for “getting you late” (sic).

A day or two later I was in another taxi, and this isn’t a story of utter friendliness, but a rather funny metaphor for the state of many taxis in South Africa. I had been the second last to board, thus being delegated to one of the fold-out seats that otherwise make way for passengers in the back to get in and out. As we rattle along and speed around corners, trying desperately not to push too hard into the person next to us as gravity does its thing, I cling to my wobbly seat. After a few minutes someone behind me gets off, so I naturally rise to let them pass then settle into their previous seat on the back bench.

Two minutes later as we go around a bend there’s a “clunk” and the fold-out seat I had been sitting on just sort of collapses in a heap on the floor. A few people look over, no one appears overly surprised, and the taxi continues on.

Another similar experience another day or two later as I was going from the university towards town with a friend to grab some free wifi at McDonalds. As we get out the guy who slid open the door managed to push it back so hard it actually unhinged. People looked at it, no one too bothered, everyone sort of assumed someone else would fix it, maybe the driver. I took a quick look and estimated it wouldn’t be hard to hook it back in and after a try or two managed to get it back on its track. I was lucky, too, because I had 15 people in the taxi all staring at me waiting for me, the rare white passenger who clearly didn’t use these taxis often, to make a fool of himself.

But then the most amazing thing happened. Again a day or two later I was returning from the university to the place I was staying (couchsurfing actually, a topic for another post). Now from Port Elizabeth central taxi rank I had to take the Walmer Russel taxi which would drop me right outside my accommodation. I had figured this out through careful observation and questioning over the previous days.

So that day I was feeling confident, I knew which taxi to take, it was no worry, so I got to the taxi rank, basically rows of taxis queuing for passengers, leaving when they fill up. I found the row for Walmer and got in, as we got going the conducter shouted “Walmer Park”. This struck me as a little odd as I thought I should be on Walmer Russel, but this was the same row I had taken a taxi the previous day.

Well, about two minutes later I realized we were going in the opposite direction of where I needed to be heading. A quick question to my neighbour ascertained I was on the wrong taxi which took a different route. However the woman to my right kindly explained that if I got off at 9th Avenue and walked to the garage (petrol station) I could get the taxi that’ll take me to where I need to go.

I asked a few more follow-ups to make sure I knew where I had to head as this was new territory for me and then she and the woman sitting on my left starting chatting to the conductor in Xhosa (the local language spoken by most of the people in the Eastern Cape, the X is a click, good luck trying to say it!). Half a minute later it transpired that the conductor would refund me my taxi fare and the driver would go out of his way to drop me on the route of the correct taxi.

I was impressed. That is what you call customer service. Here I am, a Capetonian living in Joburg with no knowledge of PE who through my own over-confidence and lack of checking took the wrong taxi, and these guys were going out of their way to make sure I got home. Needless to say I was very surprised.

To give you a bit of comparison, I had of course taken taxis before, a few times in Cape Town and a bit more regularly in Johannesburg. Never have I come across taxis that are as consistenly this friendly (all the taxis I took in PE you’d get a thank you or a smile from the driver or conductor for going with them.) In Cape Town it’s very high-intensity, the driver shouting at cars and squeezing into gaps in traffic while the conductor is non-stop shouting out destinations to passing pedestrians. In Johannesburg it’s a bit more somber as the driver races through red lights (or robots as we call them in SA) and the guys in the front seat struggle to count the money being passed to them (yep, in Johannesburg the passenger in the front seat has to collect everyone’s money and count it and hope it comes out right).

All in all, I’ve never felt this comfortable taking taxis, in PE it is not stressful, tiring or intimidating, just another way of getting around.

Have you had crazy experiences in South Africa’s taxis? Let me know, I’d love to hear them!