Volume 65 December 2026-January 2026 : Social
Things they say!
Author : Thamani Shabani
You want a good laugh? Then take a cue from me and for just one weekend drive around Gaborone. You are embarking on a search, which I will presently define for you but you want to narrow it to only minibuses, those commuter ‘spitfires’ otherwise known as combis.
Now read the inscriptions on their rear windscreens. It is really up to you what salient meanings you read into these lines of various font-types and sizes. Take these as a sample: Dance with my father, ostensibly borrowed from Luther Vandross’ song (may his soul rest in peace), More fire, which appears to be some church slogan. Then there is Under Pressure, which you might simply hate if your debtors are after you; Big Husband - as in the infamous ‘small house’ and ‘big house’.
Do not tailgate, especially that guy whose combi carries the inscription Mo lese (leave him alone). In all probability, it means let him do it, he will be the one paying the police fine anyway after I have stopped suddenly and he butts this creaking thing from behind. Never underestimate the little wiry guy with shifty lizard eyes and a pillow in the driver’s seat in the combi that has the Bulldog inscription.
This dude might be as tenacious as that English bulldog, especially if you fail to pay the fare. True, boarding some mini-buses is akin to playing roulette. You never quite really know how the ride would turn out. Of course the bloke in the combi with the inscription Destination unknown will talk until he is blue in the face if he must convince you that his combi is safe. Then there are those who fancy they are Muhammed Ali, who carry the writing The Great. There is the unassuming Respect, the outrageous Slow poison, and the all-time jeer “Ke a sokola o nchenametse [I am suffering, and you gape at me]”. Crass but understandable in this time of economic chaos. Forget the fact you are barking up the right tree in the case of the guy who just carelessly swerved onto your lane with his Let them talk inscription. To this guy you are the meanest thing on God’s earth and for all he cares you are akin to the old cur he saw the other day barking up the wrong tree.
Be warned before you embark on the mini- bus with the inscription Aircraft e a penologa [overloaded aircraft]. Not only is the driver in this groaning and creaky heap of metal and tyres announcing that he is a speed merchant. The guy is likely to sandwich you between two, no, three heavyweights and have you sit in the ‘toilet seat” – that open space between the foldable seat and the immovable double seater. You might be comforted though by the sticker in the combi that the lass you were hoping to chat up before you were rudely pressed between the heavyweights boarded - Life goes on. And it does go on, unless you somehow anger the hustler in the other combi and he knocks you cold with his tyre-lever. However, if you keep your peace you shall truly arrive home as the other fellow assures you “He doga go, he ya gochwe”[we are leaving for home]. ENDS