My City

My big, best-kept secret

‘’After robot”, I shout from the backseat of the taxi.

It’s Monday morning, and I cannot contain my excitement.

Like every other morning, I am crammed in a taxi, plastered against the window and my anxiety is mounting by the second. My foot taps nervously, while my eyes dart between my fellow-passengers, I am a little strung but cannot help wonder if they are aware of the treasure that is this place. The rattling taxi comes to a halt, and with a little jiggle of the gearshift, the driver glances towards the door signalling we should get off. I bite on my bottom lip as we wait nervously, hunched over, to get off...if this little kid takes any longer climbing out, I am going to combust!

After slamming the taxi door shut, I close my eyes and allow the crisp air to linger on my cheeks and my moment is short lived when a woman with a wailing baby on her back nudges past me, pulling me out of my reverie to reveal,Johannesburg – CBD.

My favourite place.

You see, everyday I take a taxi to school, where I get off at Bree taxi rank, and make my way through Johannesburg central. And every day is more exciting than the last. I could easily take a bus, or a taxi that would leave me at the corner of my school building, but I would not dare miss the opportunity of moseying about the busy streets.

Currently, I stand at the corner of Bree Street, absorbing the central.?I watch on as an elderly man prudently drains hot oil with scarred hands from his fryer, then gingerly placing the fryer back on the tattered newspaper; I smile because I know what comes next, “magwinya, amagwinya la”. I murmur in tune with him, blushing sheepishly. A few months ago I could barely make out what he was saying. ?

My blush progresses into a smile as I observe the morning ritual between the friendly enemies. Two young men stand in the middle of the street, the robot just turned red so they begin their 'morning briefing’. Starting my wristwatch timer an excitable energy in me begins to rise. They have exactly 100 seconds to do this before taxis run them down. As the drivers rev their engines, the men begin their elaborate handshake, and try as I might, I still cannot keep up. The men complete their handshake and swiftly move to opposite corners of the street to their identical fruit stands, just being missed by the fleet of cars. “Phew”, I breathe, they are cutting it close. ?

“She’s late”, I ponder while scanning the street. But just as I am about to cross the road, she comes into my view - a stout woman, waddling towards me. She struggles to clutch onto all her designer handbags, but manages to make it safely to her spot. Watching her arrange the bags on the stand snaps me back to reality, I had better hurry up or I am going to be late.

Dodging a few taxis and selling carts, I make my way to the Mandela Bridge.

The polar breeze flirts with my skirt as I stand in the middle of the bridge, it is almost winter and this is a personal call to flu, but nothing comes in the way of my daily moments of reflection.

Everyday for the past six months, I have stood in this exact same spot on the Mandela Bridge sidewalk, admiring the CBD. I wake up an hour earlier just so that I can savour these ten minutes, and I never miss it. Well, except that one morning where I had two cappuccinos before leaving the house and I desperately needed to pee - needless to say, I zoomed over the bridge to get to school.

As I stand on the bridge overlooking the city centre, I make out blurry shadows of my busy friends. I am reminded why this is my favourite place; every corner lies lessons learnt and opportunities grasped. While the wind braids my hair in attempts to derail my musing, I stand with watery eyes, overcome by the lessons I have learnt over the past six months.

Unmoved by the weather, I am jerked further into my thoughts as the sun begins to creep behind the clouds, picturesque like, with almost as much grace as the wrinkled man handling the oil. From him, I have been prompted to nurture life’s woes, because even with scars, the old man continues to be dignified in his work. The dumpy woman modeling her handbags catches my eyes, I giggle, if I have learnt anything from the CBD; a little flair never hurt anyone. The wind continues to tickle me as I bring to mind the biggest lesson I have come to appreciate, resilience and determination. I watch on as the two young men showcase their best fruits to passerby's, and even then they still shout encouraging words to one another other with each sale. Added lesson: Ubuntu

I take one quick glance over the city central, a treasure in its own right, and I beam at my big best-kept secret, a place, where hope lives in pockets and dreams are achieved.?

I then tear myself away from my spot and allow my feet to pound the ground in a sprint. In the distance I hear the honks and shouts of late travellers, while burnt oil dances between morning dew, leaving the CBD behind I whisper as I run, “until tomorrow my city”.