TOLERANCE IN LAWLESSNESS

I received a 5-minute lecture from a minibus conductor on my return journey from my little trip in Lilongwe.

After concluding my business (in my previous post), I caught a bicycle taxi headed towards the 6miles/Bunda Turnoff roundabout. With the Bicycle Taxi guy, we talked about how the government must move with speed to relocate the dumping site considering that residential settlements have been developed in Area 38.

Our other major concern was how the government was waiting for another settlement tragedy to happen as everybody builds according to the way they desire. 

The end result, we agreed, was that we were going to have settlements like the ones in places like Area 36, 25 and so on…with so many closed roads and no proper streets despite the houses being top town houses. 

We also agreed that the more the government continues to downplay the problem by saying that the people had encroached its land, the more the settlements would sprout giving a high probability of legal wrangles.

Our discussion revolved around the dumping area and how it was slowing down development of plots in the area. Anyway time flies, and we parted. I caught a minibus to town and that was it.

I went straight and looked for a bus headed to area 49, where I was headed to. I found a couple of people in the bus. It had remained with 6 people to fill up. 4 for the backseat as is tradition and 2 in the passage.

I chose to wait outside for the backseat to fill up as I do not like the backseat due to the discomfort it subjects me to. Within seconds, the backseat had filled up and as I was about to enter, a woman raced in and got one of the passage seats, I got the other.

Just as I thought we were leaving, the conductor asked me to give way to a man standing just outside the minibus’s door saying he was a husband to the woman behind my seat hence they could not travel separately.
 

I obliged and went into an empty bus. But just as we were negotiating our way out of the lower minibus depot, we found that the minibus I had been kicked out of had broken down right by the exit.

We took our leave. As we got in Area 47’s Chitukuko, everything changed. The minibus conductor tried, unsuccessfully to squeeze us into sitting 4 per row. I objected loudly and insisted I was not going to give room to any new passenger to board the minibus. 
 

He insisted, and I said to him that the very reason minibus fares had doubled in the previous 3 months to 500 from 250 and 300 on bad days, or so is because we had accepted that as passengers it was not going to be allowed anymore for 4 people to sit in one row as the government had decreed. After a moment of uncertainty, we left and his wishes were dusted. 

Just a few metres the silent lecture started. 

“Make sure that there is a designated depot where you are going. Because if there is none, I will have to drop you where there is a designated depot”, warned the minibus conductor.

My mind started to race thinking that I did not know of any designated depot on the ABC-Area 49 road and that all of them were makeshifts. 

“You see”, he continued.

“The law must not apply selectively to us here. We will follow all the traffic rules especially for you. Our business is a business of tolerance and love. You allow to sit four per row, we allow to drop you where you want. We take risks to drop you at places where if caught we are required to pay thousands of money which you don’t even contribute as passengers”

I stayed quiet knowing that any word I uttered would escalate the ranting. My prayer was simple from the moment the lecture began; that somebody asks to be dropped at my drop off point. 

As we approached the Bingu National Stadium, where I was supposed to drop off, also famously called “Pampanda”, nobody had thus asked to be dropped off. 

I gathered the courage and spoke out;

“Aise nditsika pampanda” (Hey, drop me off by the stadium)

“You see, eh, you see, there is no stage here.” He resumed his lecture. 

I choose to believe two things saved me on this day. The driver seemed uninterested in what his conductor was doing and secondly that some women also asked to be dropped at the stadium just a moment after I had asked.

“Now I just asked you to give room to one person and you refused, you have got to be fair you know. This thing shouldn’t just work one sided….” And he continued with whatever he was then ranting about. 

As the minibus stopped. I offered my apologies. I assured him it was not going to happen next time and that I will be more tolerant to him. I lied. 

I waved him goodbye and started heading home. At that moment I realised we are screwed up as a country. It was not the minibus conductor’s fault. It was the fault of the police who continue to receive 200 Kwachas as bribe when they catch a minibus that has over capacity passengers. It was the fault of the government who fail to provide proper road structures such as designated bus stops where they are really needed. 

I realised, the besst we can do is fight our own fights, with whatever tactic you can use just to promote the law as long you are within the law. Happy 2018.