Thank God...Welcome Colleen. You don't know how happy I am to work with a cab driver that knows the business as well as you...and speaks English too. You have to be happy to escape from the rathole you worked in. Good Luck and the only thing that I can tell you is "Leave us some fares" We need to eat too!

A little excerp from a story I found on the web: (truthfulness could be probable)


DIARY OF A SOUTH AFRICAN TAXI DRIVER............

Togetherness Tshabalala weaves his High Impact African Culling Equipment
(Hi-Ace for short) through the rush-hour traffic occasionally using the
pavement to increase productivity. The rising sun shines brightly off
Togetherness' gleaming, stolen BMW hubcaps. Togetherness is a confident
man with high spirits, as evidenced by the stickers on his rear window;
'God loves taxi drivers' and 'avoid constipation - travel by taxi'.

On the front of his taxi, between a large dent which, ominously, is in
the shape of a traffic cop and the holes from a small spray of bullets, is a
lurid notice reading: 'Jukskei Park Express Inaugural Flight'. Using the
word 'flight' is Togetherness' own little personal joke. What we are
witnessing is the inaugural leg of what is hopefully to become a daily
service between Jukskei Park and Johannesburg; a twenty-five kilometre
journey which takes ten minutes - less if the pavements are open.

The percussion waves from Togetherness' powerful radio (taken from a BMW
Z3) pushes back the early mist. He is playing Boom Shaka's latest low
frequency, 120 dB hit, 'How low can we go'. He hoots as he drives.
Togetherness hoots at anything he sees, including trees, as is the
custom of his people.

On board the taxi are a dozen white people. They do not come whiter than
this. They are Omo white. But they were not born white. No, their pallor
is due to fear and stark terror. Take John Mleka. Never is his life has
he done 0 to 100 km/h in six seconds - especially not in heavy traffic.
Denise Mthaba's colour has changed from green-black to a sort of waxen
ivory as quickly as the last traffic light had changed to red (a colour
which traditionally prompts taxi drivers to make even more haste).

Togetherness regularly looks over his shoulder while driving (even for a
full minute) asking passengers their destinations. Elizabeth Mkize,
sitting right at the back, has the opportunity to say 'Rendbeg Centa'
even though she works in Johannesburg. Randburg was coming up fast and it
suddenly seemed near enough for her. She worries about how she will make
her way to the front; but only fleetingly because the taxi has now
reached Randburg and Togetherness has stopped. He has stopped as suddenly as
a
plane might stop up against a mountain. Now everybody is at the front in
a warm, intimate heap. Elizabeth alights as gracefully as anybody can with
one knee locked behind the other. She is vaguely aware of passers-by
loosening her clothing and shouting, 'Give her air!'
Togetherness bowls happily along Jan Smuts Avenue, overtaking a police
BMW which is chasing a getaway car. Then he overtakes the getaway car too,
exchanging boisterous greetings with the driver whom he knows.
Togetherness is steering with his elbows because he needs his hands
free to check the morning's takings and to wave to girls on the pavement.
What is even more remarkable is that Togetherness is doing this despite the
fact that his taxi does not have a steering wheel. When Togetherness'
friend, Sipho, stole this vehicle, it was fitted with a steering lock,
so Sipho had to remove the steering wheel. The spanner that Sipho has
attached to the steering bolt in its place is quite adequate though.

Togetherness smiles and turns to his passengers as he accelerates past a
truck on a blind rise. He announces: 'Ladies and gentlemen, thees ees
your Ceptain. We will shortly be lending in Johennesbeg. Plis make sure your
seatbelts are in the upright position, end your seats are fastened.
Thank you for flying with us today. We hope to see you soon again.'

John Mleka is gripping the seat in front of him so tightly, that he
notices his finger tips have gone transparent, as a passing taxi fires a
brief burst from an automatic weapon in his direction. Togetherness now
reaches the city and merges with the in-bound traffic like his ancestors
merged with the British at Isandlwana. He stops at his usual
disembarkation point in the middle of an intersection and picks his
teeth patiently while people sort out their legs and teeth, before groping
their way towards a pole around which they can throw their arms. By the time
his passengers' eyeballs have settled back in their parent sockets,
Togetherness is already halfway back to Jukskei Park with another load
of passengers.

Eeiisshhh!!!