Everyone needs a Chelsea in their life! She is the master of making a plan and organizing all the pieces to ensure it happens! Last night, she organized for Beth and me to join her at the Victory Theater near downtown Johannesburg to watch a show called African Umoja - traditional song and dance of African culture. I'll admit, I was initially skeptical - anticipating some version of a third rate production. However, when the cast bowed after the finale, I sat wishing the show would go on!
Chelsea, per usual, found a gem! This nearly 2.5 hour performance was filled with incredible music and sensational dancing. The drums were powerful, the voices gave me goosebumps, and the dancing kept a smile of amazement on my face the whole night. Standing on the stage at the start of the show was an African man, probably in his late 60's, who began to tell the story of how music has played a role in African culture. The cast transformed in proportion to the changing times portrayed in the show. They began as topless women draped in beads and topless men dressed in furs and leather pounding on drums. Their costumes, music, and dance changed as they traveled through the apartheid era, swing, gangster styles, gospel, and returning full circle to their roots. I sat there in my squishy, Victory Theater seat, amazed by their talent, moved by the importance of music, and grateful for the experience.
That was the good part of the evening. Let me rewind a few hours to the bad part....
Downtown JoBurg is not an area we choose to explore very often, in fact, not really at all. Most locals will ask you, "Why would you want to go there?" Luckily, our evening plans placed us just on the outskirts of downtown, but not so far away that the blood wasn't pumping as we drove my little Jetta down the lively streets. Thanks to the preparedness of Chelsea, we had back-up directions to rely on when the trusty ol' TomTom told us we had reached our destination as we pulled into the parking lot of an apartment building.
"There's the BP!" Beth shared, confirming we were headed in the right direction. In about two minutes, the Victory Theater was in view off to our left. The problem was that I was driving in the inside lane. Flipping on my turn signal, I slowed down in my lane and prepared to turn left. In my rearview mirror I could see a red and orange taxi quickly approaching in the lane next to me. I hesitated to make my turn but noticed the taxi appeared to slow down for me. Naturally, I began to take my turn; however I quickly corrected myself because the taxi was not actually slowing down. One thing led to another and our vehicles made contact.
Perhaps I should explain South African taxis to you before going any further. Very simply put, taxis are not to be messed with! They are about the size of conversion vans and always look as though they've been through hell. The reason is because the drivers of these taxis have no regard for any other motorist on the road. Though I don't know the accurate statistic, I would assume that taxis make up probably 75% of all accidents in South Africa! When someone tried to cut me off in the States, I played chicken with that vehicle until they backed off or at least got the impression they couldn't mess with me. Here - there is no game of chicken. Here, you back off! Taxis are not to be messed with.
Thankfully, this taxi was not moving with much speed (at all) at the moment his vehicle struck mine, so the damage to my car is no more than a decent dent and some deep scratches and thankfully none of us were hurt at all. The part of the incident that was difficult to deal with was not the accident itself, but rather the reaction of the driver. As I pulled my car over to the side of the lane and threw on my hazards, the irrate driver abandoned his taxi in the middle of the lane and stalked over to my car screaming at us. A passerby, watching the whole incident, said, "Ooooh. He's gonna kill YOU!" Back home you'd just shrug off a comment like that; however, in S.Africa - you just never know.
Chelsea and Beth got of of the car to inspect the damage. The heavyset man, about six feet tall, bounded over to us shouting that we needed to fix his car. "Sorry, but we don't know how to fix cars!" Beth responded matter of factly. The angry man continued to yell demanding that "the driver" come to his car and look. Although I was addressing him, he continue to yell at Beth and Chelsea. Upon my refusal to get out of my car and leave it in the middle of the lane, he threatened to call the police. I told him to go ahead and we'd figure things out. He didn't like that answer, "Get out of your car and come back here to look."
When it was glaringly obvious we were not going to get anywhere with this man, Chelsea and Beth got back in the car, and we told the man we were moving the car to a safer place before we discussed the accident. I pulled out into my lane and we manuevered our way back to the parking area for the Victory Theater. The taxi driver was gone.
No one was hurt, and the car was still completely drivable. Overall, my first accident in South Africa was not anything to write home about (despite the fact that writing about it is exactly what I'm doing). Clearly, the man knew the accident was his fault and reacted the way he did because he saw three American women he thought he could fool. Little did he know, he picked the wrong three women to mess with! :)
(I sound so brave and wise, but I'll let you in on a little secret: not one of us had our witts about us to take down his license plate number! OOOPS!)
Chelsea, per usual, found a gem! This nearly 2.5 hour performance was filled with incredible music and sensational dancing. The drums were powerful, the voices gave me goosebumps, and the dancing kept a smile of amazement on my face the whole night. Standing on the stage at the start of the show was an African man, probably in his late 60's, who began to tell the story of how music has played a role in African culture. The cast transformed in proportion to the changing times portrayed in the show. They began as topless women draped in beads and topless men dressed in furs and leather pounding on drums. Their costumes, music, and dance changed as they traveled through the apartheid era, swing, gangster styles, gospel, and returning full circle to their roots. I sat there in my squishy, Victory Theater seat, amazed by their talent, moved by the importance of music, and grateful for the experience.
That was the good part of the evening. Let me rewind a few hours to the bad part....
Downtown JoBurg is not an area we choose to explore very often, in fact, not really at all. Most locals will ask you, "Why would you want to go there?" Luckily, our evening plans placed us just on the outskirts of downtown, but not so far away that the blood wasn't pumping as we drove my little Jetta down the lively streets. Thanks to the preparedness of Chelsea, we had back-up directions to rely on when the trusty ol' TomTom told us we had reached our destination as we pulled into the parking lot of an apartment building.
"There's the BP!" Beth shared, confirming we were headed in the right direction. In about two minutes, the Victory Theater was in view off to our left. The problem was that I was driving in the inside lane. Flipping on my turn signal, I slowed down in my lane and prepared to turn left. In my rearview mirror I could see a red and orange taxi quickly approaching in the lane next to me. I hesitated to make my turn but noticed the taxi appeared to slow down for me. Naturally, I began to take my turn; however I quickly corrected myself because the taxi was not actually slowing down. One thing led to another and our vehicles made contact.
Perhaps I should explain South African taxis to you before going any further. Very simply put, taxis are not to be messed with! They are about the size of conversion vans and always look as though they've been through hell. The reason is because the drivers of these taxis have no regard for any other motorist on the road. Though I don't know the accurate statistic, I would assume that taxis make up probably 75% of all accidents in South Africa! When someone tried to cut me off in the States, I played chicken with that vehicle until they backed off or at least got the impression they couldn't mess with me. Here - there is no game of chicken. Here, you back off! Taxis are not to be messed with.
Thankfully, this taxi was not moving with much speed (at all) at the moment his vehicle struck mine, so the damage to my car is no more than a decent dent and some deep scratches and thankfully none of us were hurt at all. The part of the incident that was difficult to deal with was not the accident itself, but rather the reaction of the driver. As I pulled my car over to the side of the lane and threw on my hazards, the irrate driver abandoned his taxi in the middle of the lane and stalked over to my car screaming at us. A passerby, watching the whole incident, said, "Ooooh. He's gonna kill YOU!" Back home you'd just shrug off a comment like that; however, in S.Africa - you just never know.
Chelsea and Beth got of of the car to inspect the damage. The heavyset man, about six feet tall, bounded over to us shouting that we needed to fix his car. "Sorry, but we don't know how to fix cars!" Beth responded matter of factly. The angry man continued to yell demanding that "the driver" come to his car and look. Although I was addressing him, he continue to yell at Beth and Chelsea. Upon my refusal to get out of my car and leave it in the middle of the lane, he threatened to call the police. I told him to go ahead and we'd figure things out. He didn't like that answer, "Get out of your car and come back here to look."
When it was glaringly obvious we were not going to get anywhere with this man, Chelsea and Beth got back in the car, and we told the man we were moving the car to a safer place before we discussed the accident. I pulled out into my lane and we manuevered our way back to the parking area for the Victory Theater. The taxi driver was gone.
No one was hurt, and the car was still completely drivable. Overall, my first accident in South Africa was not anything to write home about (despite the fact that writing about it is exactly what I'm doing). Clearly, the man knew the accident was his fault and reacted the way he did because he saw three American women he thought he could fool. Little did he know, he picked the wrong three women to mess with! :)
(I sound so brave and wise, but I'll let you in on a little secret: not one of us had our witts about us to take down his license plate number! OOOPS!)
