I boarded a taxi last week anticipating the political talk that would follow on our journey to town.

I boarded a taxi last week anticipating the political talk that would follow on our journey to town.

The whole country was agog at the shenanigans of the ANC bigwigs.

I was eager to hear all the lowdown on these colourful characters.

I was disappointed because no one was interested in discussing local politics and the momentous happening in our country.

Everyone has given up on the politicians because they do not understand their speeches, ambitions and their plans. People do not trust them and have moved on to more interesting subjects.

As Auntie Emma told me, "Politics means more taxes. No change, no breaks. All the politicians, from the United States of America to South Africa, show off to each other. They do not speak to ordinary citizens."

I have learned that the war between the sexes is the one that matters in society, everything else is on the back burner.

We had an additional passenger who sat in the "well" between the front and second seats in the 14-seater taxi.

The taxi was overloaded but we assured the driver that we would help him pay the ticket if he was stopped by traffic cops.

We were all happy because it was payday. We felt rich for a change and wanted to celebrate. We wanted to forget about the tinned fish and chicken livers that are now our daily fare.

Someone asked Mr Overload, a young man who looked as if he had just started working, if he was taking anything home for his mother.

He exploded into the most misogynist speech I have ever heard.

Mr Overload wanted to know why women thought they had aright to any part of his business.

He said he did not want to be mothered, he did not want to be loved just because it was month end. He moaned about cheeky women who had no respect for men.

Mr Overload said that in his father's day, women did not dare speak to men unless they were spoken to first. He said no woman would dare tell a man that he was drunk.

That is when we saw the light. We had been mystified by this young man's outburst and were wondering what we had done by showing interest in his plans.

Then, of course, he gave us a hint by speaking of the demon of drink. We belatedly caught a whiff of the spirits he must have quaffed before leaving for work.

Unfortunately, for him, we were all over him. We wanted to know how much money he still had left.

We also wanted to know if he would allow his mother to speak on Monday morning when he asked for the taxi fare to work.

Auntie Emma advised him to buy a dinner set and a Sunday costume for his mother. That way, his mother would forgive him for always asking for money like a child when he was already a working man. The women naturally won this round.