I leave early because I know the day ahead will take time. After locking the giant gate at the church center’s entrance I make my way up the long, winding road towards Magenqezeni. There I will catch a Kombi into town and return to the same place before dusk. The sun is hot already and it’s only half past eight. Sweat begins to run down my forehead and the bath I just took seems like ages ago. As I meander up the twisting concrete I wonder what this path was like prior to being paved just a few years ago. I come across a herd of cows grazing on the side of the road, some feel perfectly comfortable standing in the way of any potential traffic. With no one in sight I wonder which of the locals has momentarily lost his herd. They never seem to bother me when I walk past, heck, they never seem to acknowledge my existence, which is just fine with me. I pass Pastor and Mama Mumbaso’s house, with no signs of life, it is early on a Saturday after all. I make my way past the soccer field and primary school to where the road levels off a bit.
The sound of the occasional rooster cry and cow moo fill the otherwise still silence. I come across a woman working in her vegetable garden, “Sawubona (hello)”, I say. She replies, “Sawubona, unjani (hello, how are you)?” “Ngisaphila, unjani (I’m fine, how are you)”, I respond. She smiles and concludes, “Sisaphila, hamba kahle (we are fine, go well)”. “Sala kahle (stay well)”, I say as I continue on.
I come to the steep hill that takes me down to where I will catch my taxi. There is no one around, it’s peaceful and calm. Suddenly the silence is broken by the hum of a sugar cane truck approaching from the south. Whooooosh, it flies by at a speed that has to be illegal. Then I see a little red kombi approach from the north, I signal to him to stop. He slows down and asks, “eKuphi? (where to?)” “eStanger”, I reply. “Yebo, Siyahamba eStanger (Yes,we are going to Stanger)”, he says. "Ngiyabonga (thank you)", I say as I hop in. I make my way to the back seat, my favorite spot, near the window. I open it a crack and feel the crisp air start to cool me as we glide along. We turn onto the road that leads into downtown Maphumulo, the long way, I think to myself. We drop a few riders off at the rank in Maphumulo and make our way past the bustling fruit stalls and braai stands. Past the school where I teach and the road that leads to one of the parishes I attend, down the snaking road out of Maphumulo proper.
We are back onto the main road to Stanger and flying, only to stop for the couple sets of speed bumps along the way. The scenery is beyond words, jagged tree covered mountains to the north and west, rolling hills of sugar cane to the south and east, both seem to go on forever in each direction. There is something beautiful with how the light plays with the vibrant green of the cane fields. They are an electric green, buzzing with color in the morning sun, as the day wears on the greens deepen, and by evening they seem to glow a golden hue. It’s a beauty I find strangely continual, yet always finding ways to manifest itself into something new and different.
The road to Stanger is a winding one, the kombi drivers seem to enjoy this, as if they're driving roller coasters. Even with the seemingly reckless ride at times, I never feel in danger, it’s an odd confidence I have. We begin passing up our payment for this coaster ride to the money collector in front, R 16 gets me from Magenqezeni to Stanger (about 50 kms), roughly $2.28, a steal by American standards. After kilometers of sugar cane I see the first few groups of houses, we are nearing the city’s center. We turn onto one of the main roads and past the municipality building where King Shaka Street and Mahatma Gandhi Road intersect, a snapshot of the layers of history enveloped around this place. We turn at Sucrose Nissan, the final leg on our journey. As we pull into the taxi rank I bid the driver farewell, “Sala kahle (stay well)”, and leap into the chaotic beauty that is Stanger on a Saturday.
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