Khombi Experiences

Getting the Khombi home from work is perhaps the most Swazi experience that I have here. Not getting the Khombi to work, which merely involves waiting beside the road, the aforementioned designated tree station, and waiting for a Khombi to come up the road; a relatively sedate experience compared to the afternoon. The Khombi itself is a 14 seater van, 4 rows deep, the back row seats 4 people squeezed shoulder to shoulder. The hot seat is up besides the driver. It gets to a certain point in the road, a part of highway just going into or leaving town, and the conductor starts collecting 4 E from all the people on the bus. He doesn’t ask for the money, everyone just starts passing money to the front, hand to hand if you’re squeezed in the back row.

In the afternoon, the bus rank is chaotic. Roughly 60 Khombis are parked at all angles throughout a dirt parking lot, which itself is spread over three different sections, on a hill. Along two sides of the bus rank are long markets, selling mostly fresh fruit and veg, some sell a selection of clothes. Throughout the bus rank there are stalls selling lollipops and chips, with MTN workers selling airtime to top up mobiles. And at the far side of the bus rank there is a flea market. The first afternoon going to the bus ranks involved walking around in circles, asking various conductors where the bus for Fairview north was, only to be sent left to right, right to left and back again. Walking around in circles resulted in a few marriage proposals being sent my way, one person asking for money and in my mind at least, a lot of people looking.

A co-worker got me on the right bus that afternoon. Since then I have had the help of a gentleman who stands next to the small food stand and MTN guy closest to the Fairview north buses. The first time I was there alone, and there was a rather abrupt, ‘where?’ coming from behind me. I don’t hear at first, as intent as I am on not having to decline any marriage proposals for that day. ‘Where?’ he repeats. Fairview north. ‘Here, stand here.’ The man points to a very specific part of the ground. He wears a red fleece and a red beanie (toque).

It has been the same every afternoon that I have seen him. If there are two Khombis waiting, he points me towards the right one. If there are people milling around, he tells me exactly where to stand to start a line for the next Khombi that comes. Always he sounds a little angry with me, like I am disappointing him by letting people creep in front of me. Last week there was no one there, I guess that a Khombi had just left. So I waited, not sure exactly where would be the best place to stand, so as to secure the coveted front row seat. Slowly 6 people came, all ended up in front of me until the man pointed me towards the space in the loose line. With his help, I held my ground so people ended up behind me instead of in front. I thanked him as I passed him to get on the Khombi, he says ‘don’t worry about me, just get on the bus!’