Tags ‘a real skoroskoro’

A real skoroskoro and a conversation about religion

My last post about taxis, I promise. Still old memories

My problem with taxis in the mornings is that they are all packed until about 10am when they pass the point where I join the route on foot. That means I really have to walk far to the first major drop-off point.

The reason why I mention this is that I made a decision, in principle, not to take skoroskoros anymore and rather wait for a vaguely decent taxi. A skoroskoro is a vehicle that is in fact a crock and the onomatopoeic skoroskoro refers to the sound they make when they drive …. skoroskoroskoroskoro … the ‘Os’ are pronounced as if they had a genuflect accent.

But I’m late for work and my principles take a hike and I take a skoroskoro when it stops. I immediately know it is a skoroskoro because the dented sliding door will not open until the driver gets out and manoeuvres it open with a secret flick of his hips … and then it refuses to close again … but soon enough we are on the road.

Further clues that this is the real deal in the skoroskoro category follow quickly. Apart from the skoroskoro noise my seat dumps me on my neighbour when we go around the first righthand corner and the front passenger door flies open. But we are an adaptable lot here in the south of Africa and I learn to lean left when the taxi goes right and and the front passenger learns to hold on to the dashboard with his right hand and the door with his left hand while leaning right.

I join the other passengers in silent prayer and try not to think about the state of the vehicle’s brakes or shock absorbers while it careens through the traffic … I suspect they are close to being non-existent … which brings me to God and religion.

Now everybody knows I’m an atheist but few of you would guess that my parents and especially my father is a deeply religious person. He is one of only a handful of people, perhaps the only one, whom I know who practises all the virtues of Christianity including tolerance and forgiveness. That is why we still get along.

Many years ago when our politics also parted ways we decided to limit our conversational topics to one … rugby where we are both on the same page … we support the Free State Cheetahs. This happened as if we both grasped at the same time that it was the only way to keep our relationship going and no discussion preceded the event.

Fortunately we have since rejoined opinion on politics and the weather and rainfall patterns provide further stimuli for our conversations.

With my mother there is no such problems. She berates me my variety of addictions and is fearful that I’m now addicted to the internet as well … and also hints darkly at my godlessness when she gets the chance between analysing the latest health affliction that is making her life a misery.

That was why I was shocked when she complained about being lonely instead of her normal ailing health the other day … and being the dutiful son that I am … took her seriously for once. Not that I could get her interested in the wonders of the internet or google … no sirree!

For that I had to rely on my father who, after my presentation, dutifully thanked the Lord in his pre-lunchtime saying of grace “for the wonderful technologies that He gave us”.

Then we had lunch and it was time for Abrie to take me back to Kruger International.

Without prompting he begins talking about how he is getting slightly irritated by the creationists and Christian fundamentalists peopling the rural community around him. He finds their blunt refusal to take any scientific evidence into account when they expound their own beliefs especially grating.

I feel his pain … he professes to be a Christian … but …

I was also there once … and for a long time … until I realised that faith does not readily stand up to any manner of scrutiny by a questioning mind … and once you begin scratching the surface of your religious beliefs with a vexing question you are in for a long and hard think.
FLAG UPDATE: Meanwhile it would seem that only Joburg is ‘flagging up’ big time. I spotted hardly a flag around Hazyview and my father quietly removed the one I put on his car. I asked Lizette in Pretoria to do a count for me but have not heard from her since and Charles Moore reported that there were noticably fewer in Cape Town during his recent visit there. Let me know if I’m wrong.



October 28th

June 2017
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