“Heyta my broe, wat klap soe met die treine wat derail eksê,” a guy in his mid-twenties asks the guy next to him.

“Bra ek wiettie but ’n man moet ma mooi check,” the guy replies, shrugging.

Not too far from them, within earshot, another guy overhears the conversation. “I was on that train that morning,” he chips in. The other two guys turn to stare at him. For a moment they are speechless.

“Aweh, so tell us what happened?” one of them asks. For a few seconds he remains quiet. Patiently they wait on his response. They decide to move a step closer towards him. Their eyes are fixed on him.

“We were very lucky I must admit,” he starts off.

“En toe?” one of the two guys asks impatiently.

“The train was approaching Bellville station dramatically reducing speed. I was standing in the aisle leaning against the support pillar. Suddenly the driver applied the brakes aggressively resulting in people leaning heavily onto each other shouting, ‘Jy, jy, driver!’” I had to grab the pillar and hold on for dear life. People who were standing behind me came flying past.
A lady managed to grab me around the waist, luckily I had a firm grip and managed to hold on. I think that was supernatural power because she was big and chubby. Ek voel hoe gan die wind uit my longe.

A vendor lost his balance fell on top of seated people but held onto his stuff, at the same time shouting: “Moenie my chips stukken drukkie mense!”

“Djy’s nog geworried oo’ chips jou blêrrie fool, another aunty shouted.”

The guys can’t help but to giggle.

“Yoh! Hectic,” the one says.

“En toe?” the other one prods him again.

For a moment the ‘reporter’ gathers his thoughts. “Everything became just a blur. When the carriage started tilting over chaos erupted. Somebody cried; Here my kinnes is nog klein. People who were seated on one side came flying towards us. The lady hanging onto me let go and landed on top of a guy who was still seated. He shouted ‘Oo jirre, die vrou gan my vrek lê!’. The train was still moving but very slow. The sound of metal crashing, grinding and glass breaking scared the hell out of us. It felt like forever.”

“When I let go off the pillar because I couldn’t hold on anymore, I knocked my head against the edge of the seat. I didn’t know where I was. I just heard ladies screaming in the distance. Suddenly everything became quiet. An eerie silence came over the carriage. It was like calm in the midst of chaos.”

“Then the vendor asked ‘Liewe julle nog? Amal nog in een stuk mense?’ He ended up under the seat; still holding onto his goods. ‘Dankie Here ôs liewe nog’ he prayed out loud still under the seat.”

“Meanwhile commuters tried to exit the carriage in any possible way. Some were climbing through windows. Two guys were trying to force open the door. Mercifully the hydraulics let go and the door opened. While I was gaining my composure those two guys were assisting people to exit the carriage. A lady wearing a skirt said ‘julle kan my optel maa moenie onne my skirt kyk ‘ie asseblief.’ One of the guys remarked ‘daa’s nie nou tyd vir dit ’ie meisie; ôs moet nog byrrie wêk ytkom kom gou.’ Ten minutes later we heard the sirens in the distance.”

“Bra you had a dramatic experience; it could have been worse,” one of the guys interrupts him.

“Fortunately is nieman dood b’ie ne,” the other one adds.

“Yes I survived to tell the tale,” the ‘reporter’ replies.

“All trains on the Northern lines are delayed due to bad weather conditions. We apologize for the inconvenience,” the ever-present voicemail lady announces.

The three guys quickly glance at their watches, roll their eyes and sigh.

Urban Dictionary

heyta The colloquial South African greeting similar in
meaning to “hey there”.

broe The Afrikaaps version of the Afrikaans word “broer”
which means “brother”.

wat klap soe An Afrikaaps term literally translated as“what bangs like
that?” when asking “what’s happening / going on”.

wiettie The Afrikaaps version of the Afrikaans term “weet nie”
which means “do not know”.

gan The Afrikaaps version of the Afrikaans word “gaan”
which means “go / going to / will do / leave”.

longe The Afrikaans word for “lungs”.

stukken The Afrikaaps version of the Afrikaans word “stukkend”
which means “broken”.

geworried The Afrikaaps word for “worried” and for which the
standard Afrikaans is “bekommerd”.

blêrrie The Afrikaans slang word for the English term “bloody”
which is often spoken as “bladdy”.

kin/kinnes The Afrikaaps version of “kind/kinders” which is
Afrikaans for “child/children”. In this case it specifically
refers to children but also note that on the Cape Flats “kin”
could also mean a young adult female or specifically
someone’s girlfriend and the plural “kinnes” refers to a
group of young adult females. It is not deemed to be
derogatory.

jirre An Afrikaaps exclamation from the Afrikaans word “here”
meaning “lord”.

liewe The Afrikaaps version of the Afrikaans word “lewe”
which means “live / life”.

amal The Afrikaaps version of the Afrikaans word “almal”
which means “everybody”.

ôs The Afrikaaps version of the Afrikaans word “ons”
which means “us / we”.

byrrie The Afrikaaps version of the Afrikaans term “by die”
which means “at the”.

wêk The Afrikaaps word for the Afrikaans “werk” which
means “work”.

ytkom The Afrikaaps word for the Afrikaans “uitkom” which
“get to / arrive at”.

nieman The Afrikaaps word for the Afrikaans “niemand” which
“nobody”.

“Heyta my broe, wat klap soe met die treine wat derail eksê?”
“Hey there my brother, what’s going on with the trains derailing, I say?”

“Bra ek wiettie but ’n man moet ma mooi check.”
“Buddy I don’t know but a man has to rather check it out properly.”

“Ek voel hoe gan die wind uit my longe.”
“I felt how the wind was leaving my lungs.”

“Moenie my chips stukken drukkie mense!”
“Don’t press against my chips and break them!”

“Djy’s nog geworried oo’ chips jou blêrrie fool.”
“You are still worried about your chips you bloody fool.”

“Here my kinnes is nog klein.”
“Lord my children are still small.”

“Oo jirre, die vrou gan my vrek lê!”
“Oh lord, this woman will lay me to death!”

“Liewe julle nog? Amal nog in een stuk mense?”
“Are you still alive? Everybody still in one piece?”

“Dankie Here ôs liewe nog.”
“Thank you Lord we are still alive.”

“Julle kan my optel maa moenie onne my skirt kyk ’ie asseblief.”
“You can pick me up but please do not look under my skirt.”

“Daa’s nie nou tyd vir dit ’ie meisie; ôs moet nog byrrie wêk ytkom kom gou.”
“There’s no time for that now girl; we still have to quickly get to work.”

“Fortunately is nieman dood ’ie ne.”
“Fortunately nobody is dead alright.”

The same voicemail lady who seems to be everywhere announces: “The train from Cape Town to the Northern Suburbs is leaving in five minutes, thank you.”

Passengers are rushing through the doors at the last minute, looking tired and relieved at the same time.

“Heyta bra. How’s things?” a guy asks the fellow next to him as he’s sitting down.

“Oraait man; can’t complain; just stressing a bit,” the friend replies in one breathe.

“Stressing? Why bra?” the guy asks inquisitively.

“Situation at work is dire bru, honestly,” the friend answers in short.
He sighs and continues: “The possibility of our company closing and it is becoming a reality more and more…” He sighs again and takes a quick glance at his friend.

“Hoe gaan djy maak bru?” the guy asks with a concerned expression. The sudden movement of the train disturbs the conversation momentarily. An eerie silence befalls the carriage. Getting home is what’s on everybody’s mind. Suddenly a vendor appears through the side door.

“Ek wil huistoe gaan na mamma toe… Die trein is vol, my trane rol… ’n bokkie kan vanaand by my kom lê… Sy moen net sê, aweh,” he sings to a tired but susceptible audience. Faint smiles appear on their faces.

“Never a dull moment with these characters,” a lady remarks.

“Jis, jis, jis! Wat gat aan hiesa? Het julle al dankie gesê virrie dag se wêk? Watse lang gesigte is die? Jarre!” he mockingly reprimands the commuters in a pleasant voice. He then continues to the next carriage, disappearing through the interleading doors.

“I’ve got a bond, a car, school fees and a dog to see to. What happens if I lose my job?” the guy continues rubbing the side of his face with his left hand.

The friend looks at him quietly. “Stay positive my friend. Don’t allow negative thoughts to overpower you. You are the head of the house stay strong for the sake of your family man,” he encourages his friend.

“Thanks bru. I needed that but can’t help to worry about the future of my family,” he responds looking at his friend.

“You’re welcome buddy. That’s the least I can do. Just remember not too long ago I was in the same boat and those were your words to me.”|Their eyes meet for a brief moment.

“How easy do we forget, hey,” the guy in distress says. A wry smile appears around his mouth. “Just remember we come from humble backgrounds. Wherever life takes us, or whatever life dishes out to us, don’t forget where we come from.”

We know what it is not to have. We also know the battle it takes to get where we are today. Those were the things which made us strong and steadfast. We can really be grateful for the road we travelled. The journey continues buddy,” the friend comforts the distressed guy while he puts his hand on his shoulder.

His face lights up with an even brighter smile. “Jarre bru, what was I thinking? I’m supposed to walk with my chin up,” he says with excitement in his voice.

They shake hands and embrace each other, unaware of inquisitive eyes looking at them.

Though the train reaches the destination for many commuters, the journey of life continues unabated.

Urban Dictionary

heyta The colloquial South African greeting similar in
meaning to “hey there”.

bra An Afrikaans sland word for “brother” interchangeable
with means “broe”.

oraait The Afrikaaps word for “alright”.

bru Another South African slang word meaning “brother”
but is spoken with an English accent.

jis The Afrikaans slang word for “hey”.

wêk The Afrikaaps word for “werk” which means “work”.

jarred An Afrikaaps exclamation similar to “gee-whiz”.

“Hoe gaan djy maak bru?”
“What will you do brother?”

Paraphrased from a popular Afrikaans song:
“Ek wil huistoe gaan na mamma toe… Die trein is vol, my trane rol… ’n Bokkie kan vanaand by my kom lê… Sy moen net sê aweh.”
“I want to go home to mom… The train is full, my tears are rolling… A dear who lay by me tonight… She must just say aweh.”

“Jis, jis, jis! Wat gat aan hiesa? Het julle al dankie gesê virrie dag se wêk? Watse lang gesigte is die? Jarre!”

“Hey, hey, hey! What’s going on here? Did you say thank you for the day’s work yet? What sort of long faces are these? Gee-whiz!”

The Boland Express suffers no delays. Today it runs like clockwork. The train driver is a smooth operator. No sudden abrupt movements. Pulling away, acceleration, slowing down and stopping all seem to be incorporated into one smooth action.

In a corner of the carriage on the opposite side of us a young man sits oblivious to the world around him. He seems to be in his early twenties. His eyes are hidden behind a famous brand of sunglasses. His foot is rhythmically tapping, gentle, almost unnoticed.

He removes the earphones, turns up the volume on his little ‘boom-box’ device, and the carriage is engulfed in the melodic sound of Ray Phiri and Paul Simon collaborating on the song ‘Call Me Al’.

Commuters are caught by surprise but can’t help but acknowledge that the African rhythm of the song ignites the music in them. Feet are tapping and heads bobbing as a result of the beautiful melody. Older commuters are looking at this young man with admiration and with some degree of confusion. The norm is that youngsters of his age listen to Hip Hop or modern RnB which I am sure some of them find quite irritating.

The next song features Ray Chikapa Phiri with Stimela doing a song entitled ‘Come to Me’. Again commuters can’t help but to be captivated by the rhythm and the soulful voice of Chikapa.

Commuters standing in the aisle are tempted to explode in dance moves expressing their appreciation for the captivating African rhythm. A lady in her twenties can’t contain herself any longer and erupts in dance moves which cause commuters to rhythmically clap along, all smiling from ear to ear. The ‘DJ’ quietly hides behind his dark glasses; his face expressionless; his right foot still tapping.

The lady on the ‘dance floor’ is in full flight, enjoying the sound and rhythm with pleasant sensual moves. As the song fades she returns to her seat saying “Yooh! That was nice! I didn’t do that in a while”.

Commuters respond by giving her a warm round of applause.
“Thank you.” She acknowledges their gesture and at the same time she blows the ‘DJ’ a kiss. His smile is shy, yet he shows his appreciation as he nods in response. He isn’t done yet.

It seems like the Graceland World Tour is going down in this carriage on this joyful morning. The introduction of the song ‘Diamonds on The Soles of Her Shoes’ featuring Ladysmith Black Mambazo and Ray Phiri is the final straw. The lady in her twenties is on the ‘dance floor’ again; this time grabbing a guy by the arm. At first he’s reluctant but her bright smile is enough to persuade him.

In perfect harmony they dance together with “ooh, yeah, aaah,” and handclaps resonating through the carriage. For a moment they’re in each other’s arms, smiling, dancing; lost in the rhythm and the music.

“Oooweeh… Eish… Where’s my station? I must get off,” the lady suddenly shouts.

“I think I’ve passed it,” she says in disbelief.

The smooth operator slows the train down without any discomfort to the commuters. “Now, that’s being lost in music,” a commuter remarks.

The song fades and the ‘DJ’ grabs his bag and gets up slowly, making his way to the door.

“Thank you Mr DJ!” another commuter says.

“Yes, yes, thank you,” almost as if in one voice, others agree.

“Politics will never unite people; only music can,” the DJ responds as he steps out the carriage door with a clenched right fist raised high.

Rest in Peace Ray Chikapa Phiri

Raymond Chikapa Enock Phiri was a South African jazz, fusion and mbaqanga musician born in Mpumalanga to a Malawian immigrant worker and South African guitarist nicknamed ‘Just Now’ Phiri.

Born: March 23, 1947, Mpumalanga, South Africa
Died: July 12, 2017, Nelspruit, South Africa
Music group: Stimela (Since 1982)

“Why you look at me?” a lady asks a guy in the overcrowded carriage. She has an annoyed look on her face and speaks with an Afrikaans accent.

“Who… Me? I’m not doing that. Never… not me,” he replies looking somewhat surprised.

“What you want?” she asks abruptly.

He laughs in disbelief. After a few seconds he says, “This is ridiculous. I don’t want anything. Please stop it.”

“Then you better stop looking at me. I’m not liking it,” the lady says, still annoyed.

The train squeals under the heavy load. Eventually we reach Goodwood station where a significant amount of commuters leave the carriage. Whether it’s because of a lack of oxygen or having reached their destination is unclear.

“Oh Lord… thank you,” a young lady whispers. “I’m being squeezed from both sides. I thought I’m the cheese spread on a sandwich,” she complains.

“You better check where’s your phone and your purse,” the commuter next to her warns.

“My phone is hidden away and I don’t bother with a purse when I use public transport. I suffered too many losses,” the young lady retorts.

“Oh tell me about it, especially with crowded carriages. That’s when the vultures seize the opportunity.” The young lady nods in agreement.

“You can stop looking. Look out by the window,” the lady tells the guy again in broken English.

He laughs again in disbelief. “Woman what’s wrong? I’m minding my own business. Should I close my eyes?” he asks almost irritated.

“Yes, close your face,” she sarcastically replies.

The guy just laughs and covers his face with his right hand.

“I’m getting off at the next station Madame then you do not have to put up with me,” he jokingly says to her in a mock British accent.

The lady just rolls her eyes.

“What?” the guys asks teasing.

“Wat wanne jou ma kos opskep… Nogal vi my kô wat,” she mumbles this time with eyes as sharp as knives.

“My ma bly vê innie Somalia djy,” the guy exclaims.

The surprise is evident in her eyes which are now as big as saucers.

“Djy skrik ek ken. Ek praat Afrikaans ja,” he rubs it in.

“Nou kyk djy vi my,” he teases, laughing and showing big white teeth.

The train slows down noticeably.

“Ek sê, wat issie girl se naam?” he asks as the doors open and we exit the carriage.

“Hoekô will djy wiet?” she snaps back at him.

“Dan wiet ek mos vi wie ek kyk girl, aweh,” he playfully replies, smiling again.

A smile appears around her mouth.

The cold wind is tugging at us, jealously looking for attention.

***

Urban Dictionary

wat The Afrikaans word word for what”.
wane The Afrikaaps word for “wanneer” which means “when”.
opskep The Afrikaans word for “dish” as in dishing food.
nagal An Afrikaans word meaning “after all”or “actually”.