JOZI

JOZI

That's the thing about this city, and finally I was standing on its soild ground, no longer dreaming, or hoping, or applying for a scholarship to one of its great education institutions.

***

I craned my neck to see through the foggy window, and it amazed me how I was so excited and very curious, perhaps more curious than I had ever been my entire life. I felt the muscles in my neck protest at the way I had over-stretched them and grudgingly slumped back in my seat, wishing I had taken the window seat when my sister offered before we had left Bulawayo six hours earlier.

I would have had a better view at this moment, but my sitting position did not leave me in despair, I came up with a new plan. The bus was not full and I could still find an excuse, even though it would be lame. Well, everything I had been doing since the journey started had been lame. It was my first time on a first class bus, having been born in a middle class family with more siblings than usual meant that we were aliens to certain luxuries that were daily necessities to other people whose fortunes were a hundred times ours.

How life was so unfair!

About my lame behaviours, I wished I could have known how lame my actions were before I actually did them but well- I could only flush as I recalled them immediately after the milk was spilled or when my sister dared to point out that I was disgracing myself.

Even today I find it very embarrassing to mention the many occurrences of that day to my best friends, who laugh their hearts out before I finish narrating the rest of the story, which has the effect of making me just keep the rest to myself.

Well, lameness had started when I had forgotten my passport at the ticket office and had to return back to the overcrowded booking room to look for it because it was the first entry requirement in the bus. The conductor had looked at me when I came back holding it for all and sundry to see and said in a voice that was meant for all in the vicinity to hear and for my excitement to be doused temporarily, “It is never hard to see a person who is visiting Jo’burg for the first time. They act like they are going to heaven!” My face lost all control at indifference and I hung my head as the people around me burst into laughter.

“Well, said the driver from the open door, “I surely will not forget this one. She really seems to have been anticipating it for years. And she looks like the type who has never been across the border, the innocent face that is soon going to cry when the Joza thieves make mincemeat of her purse. Hop on, young lady, we have other passengers to attend to.”

I clambered shamefully up the steps onto the main aisle of the bus, where the already seated passengers were anxiously awaiting my appearance since they had been hearing all the banter outside.

Clutching my bag of bananas as if it would be ripped out of my grasp at any moment, I pulled a face although I was just so wrecked from within. I had a bottle of Orange Crush juice under my armpit, and my packed transparent lunch box where a full roasted chicken had been mercilessly made to fit, a novel protruding from my overthrow jacket pocket, a neck pillow hanging precariously, just stable enough to hang onto my neck until I located my seat.

I had barely made it past the first row of seats when the comments started. My handbag dangling with its long handles over my shoulder, and bumping against my hip with each careful step I took, yet also bumping into the nearest passengers on my left seated on the end row seats, succeeded in provoking a young slender Zulu beauty wearing sunglasses. She took them off and sized me up, then frowned and blocked my route with her outstretched hand spread in front of the narrow passage.

“Do you have to pack up the whole house for a simple trip to Johannesburg? Are you eloping?” The passengers who heard her outburst laughed.

I eyed her with all the fury in my eyes but answering her back would only make it worse. I was in no mood to fight when I had promised myself I would enjoy this trip.

“Sorry, ma'am,” I forced my lips to utter the apology I was not even willing to say. She threw back her head and gave a sneering laugh.

Her big eyes rolled and she retrieved her long arm from the aisle, and added a parting insult. “Well, if you want good advice, you would rather give birth to your child here,” her gaze was fixed at my belly, round for the simple reason that my body shape was hourglass at that time and I had been eating an hour before, “because the grass is not always greener in Joza and besides, your so-called baby daddy may already be married.”

Ouch!

How I actually managed to keep silent and move on after those words, I still cannot fathom. Were it not for the fact that my hands were full, she would have shut up at the sight of my clenched fists, but I was not allowed by the situation to do so, so I looked ahead and told myself I would not be that cheap to argue with people who lived on assumptions. Besides, I was not pregnant.

“Hey, there are people behind you!” a short man yelled. “Get your fat self seated!”

I clenched my teeth but said nothing.

“In Joza you will be spoilt for choice. You will return to Zimbabwe as fat as a female elephant!”

“Man, she has a full chicken! You can buy that at KFC at our stops, there is no need to leave the chickens at home missing their companion while you shove the poor animal down your throat!”

Laughter rang throughout the bus and there was applause from behind me but I did not turn.

“Are you sure you will finish those bananas? There is a toilet in the bus if you are avoiding liquids. After all, this is a first class bus!” someone I barely recognized shouted. I always had an insatiable desire for liquids when I was travelling, and did not want to embarrass myself going to the lavatory every other second, so I had bought many bananas. I looked on and finally located my seat, where I literally dropped my luggage and glanced at the disapproving glare of my sister, who at this point was very concerned to be associated with me.

The journey had been smooth, the customs officials cooperative and helpful despite my frequent questions. I had not eaten the bananas, but the chicken we had mercilessly feasted on. It had been dusk when we had left the border and we passed Pretoria when I was reading, and besides, it had never really been a city of my interest.

Hours later the conductor announced that we were almost in Johannesburg and like a fog my sleep lifted from my eyes. I craned to see the outskirts of the city but this was not working since I had no window view. In my childhood I had seen pictures of the night light in Johannesburg and it had enchanted me. Years later, a lot of developments had taken place - the travel brochures and the Internet had given me another dimension to this beauty, and especially the night scene and I wanted that experience.

“Nance?” I shook my sister and she grudgingly opened one sleepy eye. “I will be back shortly.”

She nodded and readjusted herself to sleep more comfortably in her seat. “Okay, but do not embarrass us.”

I ignored her and made my way to the front, where the conductor sat, playing games on his cell phone. He looked up with an amused smile when I occupied the seat across from him and the driver briefly glanced at me before focusing on the road.

“We are in Johannesburg now, kiddo, are you happy?”

My face said it all. The night lights were coming into view and the starry sky would make any photographer happy. And I guessed during my stay in this wonderful city I would never leave my camera. My main reason for the journey was that I had been admitted into the University of Johannesburg to study Cinematography. And here was a city just whose night view from my camera’s eye was giving me excitement quivers in my spine.

As I talked to the driver and conductor and settled their misconceptions about me and the purpose for my journey, I constantly took photos whenever I could get a clear shot. The houses sped by and we entered the city and before long we were saying prayers for a safe journey and I was in the heart of Johannesburg.

It was three o’clock in the morning and I was in the best mood than I had been in years. I had carefully packed up my belongings into smaller parcels so that I would be able to balance them, keep my special items safe in the commotion at Park Station and still take good photographs with my camera. As we left the bus I smiled because I knew that I had made a good choice. There was inspiration everywhere. That was the thing about this city. The buzz, the emotion, the fun, the music, the infrastructure, the ghetto, the secrets in the most affluent parts of the city.

This was why I had chosen the University of Johannesburg. Despite the challenges of big city life, this place was where my camera would find its satisfaction, and where I would live my dream. We made our way to the escalator and found ourselves at the train station, where I had a great view of the city, though not as much as I would like. Well, I had years to always find a better view, get onto the tallest building and take tours so I could have the best shots I could possibly have.

I let out a breath, took in the fresh air and spread out my hands.

Johannesburg city, I whispered, here I come. Let’s see what you have in store for me.