Twenty-eight female guards were unfairly dismissed by a security company because the client‚ Metrora.
Something is rotten in our country. The recent killings of our cousins from the north have resulted in fallout that will be with us for a long time.
On Tuesday Robert Moitze, a queue marshal for the Bosmont route, told me that one of our drivers, Danny Maluleka, had died.
Danny heard everything and saw everything but hardly said a word to anyone. He had a blank look that said he knew nothing about anything.
He was the perfect driver for a pack of screeching women.
He was tolerant of our foibles and knew us all. He would stop at our destinations and softly announce: "Sowetan, Cosy, Citizen or Nampak" without any prompting.
He used African honorifics to address us. He would remind you that you had got into the taxi with two parcels. He never quarrelled with the women who spoke at top volume. He just drove.
He was big, black all over and had large eyes and perfect teeth. We heard about his death in disbelief and sorrow since he looked like a young man. We thought, wrongly, that he must have been a victim of xenophobia because all tall, very black complexioned people are at risk.
But Robert said Danny had been complaining about his health for the past two months. His family took him to his ancestors in Giyani.
May his soul rest in peace.
On the same day there were two foreign women with Zimbabwean accents. They must have been new to the country because they refused to give me the fare.
One of them instead demanded that I give her my fare and she would pass it on to the driver.
She said she did not trust South Africans not to steal her money. She did not consider the fact that the money could go short before it reached the driver. She collected the money and gave it to the driver. There was a problem with our change because the driver struggled to make sense of the total and the change.
She kept on smiling and saying no problem. Our cousins do not trust us anymore, with good reason. We must all work hard to make them believe that we regard them as our brothers and sisters from another mother.
I have noticed that many foreigners check out the other passengers before they take a taxi. They are full of fear and hardly utter a word.
They keep quiet because they are afraid of being required to reply in an African language.
I am not comfortable with the idea that other people see me as a monster.
Already the cover-up has begun. I have not met a single person who was involved in the atrocities.
Just like apartheid, no one wants to own up.