I woke up early with the sun rays penetrating my room in an unfamiliar manner. Then I remembered that I was in my aunt's Khayalami house. I recalled my visit to the infamous Park Bus Station in Johannesburg, which bustles with life day and night. The exterior area of the station is well known for some senseless, sadistic crimes. Rumor has it that there are traditional doctors who carry human body parts in their bags. Locals advise visitors to never leave the station premises alone, but to call a taxi to collect them within the concourse.
Once I came to terms with where I was, I prepared myself for a day out in the 'City of Gold'. I was excited to be in a 'real' city, but nervous about its reputation for having a high crime rate. My aunt, younger sister and I walked for five minutes to the nearest combie stop to catch a ride to Randburg. A combie is a ten seater van commonly used by the public for short distance travel. I found it amusing the way my aunt hailed the combie. Compared to Botswana, in Joburg the combies have no directional route written on them, and one has to point in a certain direction to show the route they would like; Randburg is shown by pointing the index finger downwards. The combie will stop if it is going in the direction one has shown.
Once I had noticed the multiple rusty patches on the outside of our transport, my amusement ended. The gray floor had suspicious red blotches on it. In a corner of the front row was a nearly knee high heap of chicken bones, crisp wrappers, coke cans, dried up tissue, an empty milk carton and a few mosquitoes buzzing around the heap of rubbish. But the worst had to be the hole in the floor, right in front of my seat, about twenty centimeters in diameter! I could actually see the road whenever I looked down!
Despite the driver's careful driving, his appearance did not help me feel at ease. He was large bald and wore a white shirt which had a brown blotch on the left shoulder. I felt very unsafe; I actually believed that he was plotting to kidnap us all.
On arrival, everyone got off. I was relieved! My younger sister then asked me where my bag was. Terrified, I rushed back to the combie, but I bumped into the driver, who had my bag. He handed it back, but I figured all my money was gone. Regardless, I thanked him. Once I was out of his sight, I quickly checked my money, and everything was there! I felt awful - how could I judge a man because of his fellow countrymen?
Once I came to terms with where I was, I prepared myself for a day out in the 'City of Gold'. I was excited to be in a 'real' city, but nervous about its reputation for having a high crime rate. My aunt, younger sister and I walked for five minutes to the nearest combie stop to catch a ride to Randburg. A combie is a ten seater van commonly used by the public for short distance travel. I found it amusing the way my aunt hailed the combie. Compared to Botswana, in Joburg the combies have no directional route written on them, and one has to point in a certain direction to show the route they would like; Randburg is shown by pointing the index finger downwards. The combie will stop if it is going in the direction one has shown.
Once I had noticed the multiple rusty patches on the outside of our transport, my amusement ended. The gray floor had suspicious red blotches on it. In a corner of the front row was a nearly knee high heap of chicken bones, crisp wrappers, coke cans, dried up tissue, an empty milk carton and a few mosquitoes buzzing around the heap of rubbish. But the worst had to be the hole in the floor, right in front of my seat, about twenty centimeters in diameter! I could actually see the road whenever I looked down!
Despite the driver's careful driving, his appearance did not help me feel at ease. He was large bald and wore a white shirt which had a brown blotch on the left shoulder. I felt very unsafe; I actually believed that he was plotting to kidnap us all.
On arrival, everyone got off. I was relieved! My younger sister then asked me where my bag was. Terrified, I rushed back to the combie, but I bumped into the driver, who had my bag. He handed it back, but I figured all my money was gone. Regardless, I thanked him. Once I was out of his sight, I quickly checked my money, and everything was there! I felt awful - how could I judge a man because of his fellow countrymen?
