A train arrives with a sad expression on its face. Apart from being five minutes late, it seems something else is bothering it.

As it enters the station, slows down, and comes to a standstill, the problem becomes evident. The third carriage is riddled with bullet holes. Even the windows bear evidence of a lunatic who has no regard for life or limb. Some commuters pay no attention to the damage while others are visibly upset.

“Wat hettie trein nou gemaak om dit te ve’dien?” a guy asks, shrugging his shoulders and holding his upturned palms to the air.

“You ask me?” A lady in her late twenties interjects.

“Really now,” another lady adds.

Reluctantly the train leaves the station; its mood clearly downtrodden.

“Obviously was die nou wee target practice vi iemand,” the guy says.

“I just don’t get it,” the lady in her twenties comments with disdain in her voice.

She continues: “Yes, Metrorail is unreliable but still, it’s a public asset. We depend on it for daily transportation. Why vandalise it when we have to pick up the bill?”

She shakes her head in disbelief.

“And it’s the poorest of the poor who are causing this damage,” the other lady adds to the conversation.

“Kyk hoe lyk ôs skole, ôs sports en recreational facilities; afgebriek en weggedra,” the guy comments again.

“I’m sorry, but I blame community leaders for this mess,” the young lady interjects.

“Explain?” the guy asks her curiously.

“Nothing is done to empower and educate the marginalised. We need sustainable programmes to educate people about taking responsibility. Nothing has been done to teach the previously disadvantaged that collectively we need to build a new South Africa. Each citizen must play their part. It’s no longer ‘theirs’; it’s ours now.”

“But everyone from top structure right down to the guy in the street are out to loot, plunder, steal and demolish whatever possible. At this rate, what is this country going to look like in five years’ time? It’s like there’s no plan, no remedy; the same methodology for the past twenty three years with the expectation to get a different result. That is termed madness in my book,” the young lady ends her criticism almost out of breath.

“Ummm… I agree with you,” the guy says, adjusting his baseball cap. “Instead of canvassing for votes, rather educate our people to make informed decisions and not depend on politicians to make a difference. Politics is dividing our communities even further, right?” he asks looking at the young lady.

She doesn’t affirm his statement.

“Our people’s hope is misplaced and misdirected. We need to rebuild their self-respect in themselves and their respect for their fellow man and the country.”

“It’s a shame that I don’t feel safe in my own country. Crime against toddlers; I mean toddlers!” she emphasises, “and against women is escalating. Teachers are being attacked in their classrooms and the list goes on and on!” she exclaims, visibly upset.

The motion and rhythm of the train is like somebody dragging their feet. The conversation comes to a short, awkward silence.

“Did you listen to the interview of Sizwe Mpofu-Walsh the other night on TV?” the guy asks breaking the silence.

She shakes her head gently from side to side without uttering a word.

“That was the new South Africa speaking; a new generation of leaders with radical ideas. Amongst the things he said was that for far too long young people never had a voice and that it’s time we must let our voices be heard. We’ve given the old politicians enough time to prove themselves and they’ve failed us. We must rise again and realise this country’s true potential. Google him. Check him out on YouTube,” he advises. “My faith in this country is restored when I listen to these young bright minds,” he says with pride.

“I’ll check him out,” the young lady confirms.

The train suddenly accelerates and, after a minute, reduces speed.

“Wait, this is my station. I must go. Be safe people,” the guy greets as he makes his way to the door.

“Enjoy the day,” the young lady returns his gesture.

“Aluta Continua,” the other lady greets him as the doors open.

Urban Dictionary
ve’dien The Afrikaaps version of the Afrikaans word “verdien”
ve’dien The Afrikaaps version of the Afrikaans word “verdien”
which means “deserve / earn”.
afgebriek The Afrikaaps version of the Afrikaans word
“afgebreuk” which means “broken down”.
weggedra The Afrikaans word for “carried away”.

“Wat hettie trein nou gemaak om dit te ve’dien?”
“Now what did the train do to deserve this?”

“Kyk hoe lyk ôs skole, ôs sports en recreational facilities; afgebriek en weggedra.”
“Look at how our schools look, our sports and recreational facilities; broken down and carried away.”