Taking the wheel back

Yet again mini-bus taxi commuters have become victims. Those thugs who run the taxi industry have struck again. Like petulant toddlers, they were instructed to hold their breath, pout and throw tantrums. In the taxi world this means, completely disregarding the rights of others, behaving like criminals and holding the public to ransom, all because they feel they don't get their way. Boo hoo. Good luck in finding even an inkling of sympathy.This week another strike among taxi operators was held, this time in Soweto.
It only takes a handful of drivers to down their keys and cause enough chaos to ruin anyone's day. And it's not just taxi commuters who are affected. It's a domino effect of note. With taxis off the roads (as idyllic as it sounds, it's actually not) more pressure is put on buses and trains. people are forced to use private vehicles. Already congested highways become impossible to navigate. Nerves are frayed, frustrations reach fever pitch. Soon the grey hairs start sprouting, that unsightly vein in your neck pulses like a male porn stars member and often road rage is the only way to vent. Hooters become weapons and our language descends into the doldrums of cursing. I think I can safely say the majority of us dislike taxi drivers (forgive the euphemism, hate is acceptable in certain contexts). But why should we allow ourselves to be even further victimised by this ramshackle, recalcitrant, backward industry? I'm not alone in using this description. deputy-Transport minister, Jeremy Cronin, often criticises taxi bosses using similar language.
Here's an idea. What would happen if tomorrow all commuters, regardless of race, culture and economic standing, just boycotted the use of mini-bus taxis? Those of us(un)lucky enough to have our transport to embark on solidarity industrial action. It's a long shot, I know, but what if we all just summoned up the guts to do it? We'd bring this mafia-like industry to it's knees. It's actually easy when money is involved. We'd deprive them of money which only serves to beef up the bosses bank accounts. The drivers get very little and are themselves victims of their employers. I've yet to meet a happy-go-lucky taxi driver. There's a reason they drive and behave the way they do. Yes, half of them don't have drivers licences and their vehicles are nothing short of death traps. But they are victims of their bosses arrogance and greed.
So, why can't taxi commuters make their own stand? Why can't other road-users send out a clear message, not just in limp-wristed, yet strongly-worded statements, but through trenchant action? Instead of being the one's who queue for hours, shove and force their ways onto bulging buses and trains during taxi strikes, why don't they just take a stand and for one or two days completely sideline taxis? As with the converse of such situations, where taxi drivers feel misguidedlyemboldened by behaving like animals, we may just be able to take some power back and hit them them back. It's simple economics. With no money coming in, they'd have to resort to their own contingency plans, much like government and municipalities who are lefts scrambling in dealing with crippling strikes. My guess is, they have no plan and owuld have little choice but to at least partly abandon their rogue attitude and actually employ some common sense. Maybe the bosses will be force out of their dungeons to face the reality of what of normal road-users and their drivers go through daily.

Snacks-Apartheid

We are often reminded of how important Parliament is in our democracy. I've personally heard it described by some MPs as a 'hallowed house', even a church of sorts (thanks to the ACDP). But it seems Parliament's food is as holy as any bill, debate or committee meeting which makes its way through the National Assembly. ANC MP, Cecil Burgess's recent admonishment of non-parliamentarians who dared to tuck into snacks laid out at at a portfolio committee meeting serves to further reinforce the reputation of MPs as loafers and spongers. For 10 minutes he lectured us plebs, with perennially bored fellow-MPs in attendance, on how the food is actually meant for them. In an arrogant drawl he explained how the committee's budget is limited and so spending on snacks is tight. He concluded, however, that once MPs are done scoffing up soggy sandwiches and rock hard muffins, us nobodies are more than welcome to have the leftovers. Mmmm, tasty leftovers all for us?! Oh, Cecil, your heart beats custard. Amid stifled grumbles from fellow-plebs, I noted what seemed to be embarrassed looks on some of Burgess's colleagues faces (at least I hope they were embarrassed). Could it be they were in silent agreement with me that Burgess had maybe gone too far on a seemingly mundane matter? Burgess is known to be a strong character. Opposition parties call him arrogant. I respect his intellect and political deftness. But since him unofficially passing the new Parliamentary Food Act, I'm inclined to relegate him to that growing hall of shame for government bigwigs who think their excrement smells like roses.
Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't we, as taxpayers, technically paying for their snacks? Is that not our money they are shovelling into their ever-burgeoning stomachs? Mr. Burgess, surely you can do with one or two less sandwiches and scones? Where's the love? We pay your salary, yet you can't share some food with us. Not very Ubuntu of you.
The National Assembly has no gym, as far as I know, and despite Health minister, Aaron Motsoaledi's repeated calls for his fellow cabinet members and government officials to lead by example in living health lives, the boeps on the majority of parliamentarians are showing little sign of retreating. Nor do their salaries, may I add. So, maybe we could do them a favour by helping eat their oh-so-sacred snacks. It's snack-Apartheidf, I tell you!
If ordinary people aren't allowed to have even a stale croissant in Parliament, will we soon be barred for using the toilets there or even having a drink of water? Thanks to Burgess, the much touted phrase 'The Peoples Parliament' is an oxymoron. According to him and his ridiculous policy on snacks it's 'Only Certain People's Parliament'. Had he asked us nicely not to eat the snacks, refraining from the use of condescension, I may find it in my heart not to call him arrogant and petty. But knowing the chronic sense of entitlement many members of parliament adopt, I'll stand by my initial believe that they are truly the embodiment of government fat cats.