Some days I feel like a spokesman for the taxi industry. I do not have a car, and don't want a car, in spite (or because) of the strong insistence by most middle class Joburgers that a car is an absolute necessity. I have many reasons for not wanting a car; but it's one of the many things that being pregnant is making me re-evaluate. As is the thought of having my mother come to visit for a couple months. I'm confident I could negotiate taxis with an infant....but can I really ask my mom to navigate Joburg public transport? And, the fact that the concrete gardener is happy to have decided to get a car....the power of peer pressure!
I got to know Johannesburg as a broke student, and as a quasi-legal immigrant (never illegal, thankfully! But not able to open a bank account for a long time, for example). And so much of the energy and vibrancy and music I came to love about the city exists almost only in contrast to the sterile, sprawling, high walled, middle class suburbs. It's a place where you can explore, break boundaries, learn something around every corner....but only if you're willing to live a bit outside of 'accepted practice'. Because Johannesburg has an equally stifling and restrictive side - with everyone sticking carefully to certain neighborhoods, and nobody drifting too far from their comfort zones. I'm scared that getting a car would make me feel more restricted than liberated. Not having a car is, after all, the best way to prevent hijackings.
Cars are expensive. They're bad for the environment. They're unsustainable. They need insuring, and you have to worry that they could be stolen. They break down at inconvenient times and need fixing. They mean I walk less - and I love walking. When I am in someone else's car, I find myself rolling up the windows at certain intersections - intersections that I'd walk through without hesitation. It seems like so many of the world's problems are caused by people having stuff and needing to protect it....what a soul-sucking thing to be pulled into.
Not having a car has become a trademark eccentricity. I'm sure it occasionally irritates friends, because they do give me lifts late at night, I am often late (or very early) (for everything) due to unreliable transport....but I've found a rhythm that works for me, that lets me understand and engage with (very exclusionary) space here in a way that feels authentic, and I like it. I like knowing that public transport does work - and I like being affected by the taxi strikes, thunderstorms, and other things that it seems so tempting to insulate yourself from as soon as you can afford it.
But then, when Rose Taxi's says the car will be there in 10 minutes and it takes 30, I wonder if I'll feel the same affectionate smirk if I'm stuck out in the rain with a sick baby. Or a diaper needs changing, or a tantrum is being thrown, and I just Need to Get Home Now. I wonder if I'll be able to walk home from the grocery store with bags and a baby in tow. Everyone sort of cryptically says 'things change a lot' when you have kids; I wonder if this will be one of them?
I got to know Johannesburg as a broke student, and as a quasi-legal immigrant (never illegal, thankfully! But not able to open a bank account for a long time, for example). And so much of the energy and vibrancy and music I came to love about the city exists almost only in contrast to the sterile, sprawling, high walled, middle class suburbs. It's a place where you can explore, break boundaries, learn something around every corner....but only if you're willing to live a bit outside of 'accepted practice'. Because Johannesburg has an equally stifling and restrictive side - with everyone sticking carefully to certain neighborhoods, and nobody drifting too far from their comfort zones. I'm scared that getting a car would make me feel more restricted than liberated. Not having a car is, after all, the best way to prevent hijackings.
Cars are expensive. They're bad for the environment. They're unsustainable. They need insuring, and you have to worry that they could be stolen. They break down at inconvenient times and need fixing. They mean I walk less - and I love walking. When I am in someone else's car, I find myself rolling up the windows at certain intersections - intersections that I'd walk through without hesitation. It seems like so many of the world's problems are caused by people having stuff and needing to protect it....what a soul-sucking thing to be pulled into.
Not having a car has become a trademark eccentricity. I'm sure it occasionally irritates friends, because they do give me lifts late at night, I am often late (or very early) (for everything) due to unreliable transport....but I've found a rhythm that works for me, that lets me understand and engage with (very exclusionary) space here in a way that feels authentic, and I like it. I like knowing that public transport does work - and I like being affected by the taxi strikes, thunderstorms, and other things that it seems so tempting to insulate yourself from as soon as you can afford it.
But then, when Rose Taxi's says the car will be there in 10 minutes and it takes 30, I wonder if I'll feel the same affectionate smirk if I'm stuck out in the rain with a sick baby. Or a diaper needs changing, or a tantrum is being thrown, and I just Need to Get Home Now. I wonder if I'll be able to walk home from the grocery store with bags and a baby in tow. Everyone sort of cryptically says 'things change a lot' when you have kids; I wonder if this will be one of them?
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