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Published: September 6th 2015
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Advert on the Train
"Dr. Abraham, bring back lost lover, penis enlargement cream, money in your account, win lotto/powerball, CLEAN ALL THE DEBTS, amagundwane for rich."
[Picture by Lindsey Fillingham] We were fortunate during our first weeks in Cape Town: Lindsey's cousin, Lucy, was in South Korea and her car was available for our use. This gave us freedom and the flexibility to explore the Western Cape. However, there came a point when we had to give the car back.
We arranged to visit Anneke in Fish Hoek. Without wheels we decided to try public transport. Lindsey, after much searching, found there was a train from Mowbray, a suburb close to where we are staying, to Fish Hoek.
Trains in Cape Town have a reputation making them sound as lawless as the Wild West. Everyone we spoke to had a horror story: tales of bag snatchings as doors opened; pickpockets targeting crushed commuters; and even knife point muggings. I noticed those speaking had never actually been a victim of such atrocities themselves. Having been to unsavoury stations in London, with drug dealers lined up and people assaulted in the street, I was pretty sure we could handle whatever came our way. Thousands of people travel this way every day.
The skies were darkening and it was starting to rain so Claire kindly took us to Mowbray. This was
helpful as we would never have suspected that the tiny, unsigned concrete building was actually a station.
The trains have two classes, Metro and Metro Plus. In the interest of reducing exposure to any potential criminal behaviour we opted for Metro Plus. Two return tickets cost R54 (£2.70) which seemed reasonable compared to London prices.
We walked onto the platform passing a sign showing things forbidden from the train... including a picture of an AK47. Aside from the station name, this was the only information provided: there were no timetables, no indication of when the next train was due, not even a map of the line.
After about five minutes we boarded the train but realised we were in the wrong class carriage. The inside of Metro Class was dark, a little crowded and the only seating was a hard yellow moulded plastic bench. It felt safe enough but we decided we'd get off at the next station and move along to the class we had paid for.
The next station, Rosebank, came and we duly disembarked. We walked a carriage-length along the platform but, by the time I had gotten my hand to the open
door, the train was rolling. The train had been stopped for only a few seconds.
We didn't know when the next train was due but we suspected it was another hour. Again the platform had no information to help us. By this time the rain was much heavier. We considered turning back but decided to check the online timetable. This was expensive to do and not easy to read on the small screen of Lindsey's phone but it did tell us we had half an hour to wait. Lindsey was dispirited but I reminded her we were on an adventure and suggested we go and look for coffee.
We left the station and within a couple of hundred metres Lindsey recognised an ugly building in front of us - one of the so called "tampon buildings" on the University of Cape Town campus. Being a former student there Lindsey knew where we could get a drink and we quickly had a cup of coffee and shared a muffin.
After a few more minutes we caught the next train in the correct class and took our seat - a softer padded seat for two people. This carriage was
both more spacious and had less people. This gave us the opportunity to relax a bit and take in our surroundings. The windows were so covered in grime and graffiti that it was impossible to see out of them. The outside of the carriage was yellow but inside were only different grey tones. On the walls were the torn remnants of government posters promoting parental support in their child's education.
One thing that stood out was the fascinating adverts stuck haphazardly to the walls. These promoted services such as penis enlargements, bottom and breast augmentations, interventions to help win the lottery and bringing back lost lovers. Many of these businesses did all of the above. As Lindsey pointed out, these are exactly the concerns of many people at home and they are just as willing to spend large amounts of money in the vain hope of "improving" their lives.
Most heartbreaking of all were signs advertising abortions. There must be so much demand for these services for such casual signage to be worth the effort. For R300 - our daily budget - a woman could terminate her unwanted baby in less than 15 minutes. The fee is equivalent
Train Graffiti
[Picture by Lindsey Fillingham] to a few hundred pounds in the UK when relative incomes are considered. It seems such a low price to put on a human life. We presumed the abortions are safe but we had no way of knowing. It reminded me that a few days earlier we had been to a birthday party and seen, as we entered the church where we were celebrating, a hole in the wall for people to safely and anonymously deposit babies 24 hours a day. That such things are needed speaks of the desperation of these poor mothers and the dreadful impact an unplanned pregnancy can have on someone who is already impoverished. Given the crime statistics for some of the townships it wouldn't be surprising if many pregnancies are the result of assault. The pain and anguish these mothers must feel is unimaginable.
Our journey took about 45 minutes and we emerged from the gloomy train in bright sunshine. The rain had stopped as we crossed the mountains. We met Anneke and decided to drive back across the mountains to go to a huge shopping centre for lunch. I felt quite nauseous by the time we arrived, but felt a little better
Advert on the Train
"Woman Doctor Maama Afi, bring back lost lover, penis enlargements, financial problems, woman problems"
[Picture by Lindsey Fillingham] after a pizza.
When we had finished Anneke took us to a station. We asked her to take us to Retreat, a large township on the Western side of the city. Anneke felt it was far too dangerous to be dropped off there and that we were bound to be mugged or worse. We didn't want to go back over the mountains to catch the train there as it would take much longer and there were more trains from Retreat than Fish Hoek. Eventually we persuaded her and she nervously drove twenty metres into the township.
We walked into the busy station, looking conspicuous but feeling safe. Again there was no signage so Lindsey asked a lady if we were in the right place. She turned out to be well spoken and helpfully confirmed we were on the right platform. We got the train a few minutes later. The only other people in our carriage were four police officers who were moaning about their superior. Some things are the same everywhere you go. For some reason their presence made me a little nervous. I couldn't help thinking that the train could be safer if the police traveled in
Metro class and in different carriages.
After a few minutes we got off the train and it was raining hard. Nathan kindly drove us home but as we waited we got drenched.
We had completed our train adventure and lived to write the blog.
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