Cape Town - We are often so caught up in our lives that we forget to look around in the hustle and bustle of the daily rat race.
The daily commute becomes just that – perambulation from point A to point B without so much as a second glance at our surroundings.
The reality in winter is that the majority of Capetonians commute in the dark. Waking up long before the dawn, queueing for hours at times for taxis, hopping onto a train or bus to get to their destinations.
It’s thanks largely to the legacy of apartheid. Non-white residents were moved far from the central business hubs where commerce thrives; far from the business districts where employment opportunities can be sought out; far from places of work.
It means that the daily commute becomes drudgery. Crammed into a taxi, standing-room only on train carriages and following the salmon-run like rivers of people always rushing to get to work on foot because of public transport delays.
But, look around you once in a while. You’ll find some of the most breathtaking scenery. Take the headphones out of your ears and listen to the sounds on the train. You won’t be disappointed.
Metrorail ferries around 600 000 people daily. There were just over 3.7 million people living in the Cape metro as at the 2011 census.
This means more than 3.1 million of the city’s residents are robbed of the unique experience a train ride offers.
Travelling to Simon’s Town has become a weekend novelty for many, and it’s easy to see why. There’s a side to Cape Town invisible to road users.
The backside of the industrial corridor stretching from Maitland to Cape Town – dilapidated buildings missing windows, roof sheets and chunks of plaster; intricate graffiti greying under residue from exhaust fumes; burnt out train carriages and informal dwellings; the smell of diesel mingling with the sea air – is a feast for the senses.
On the train, you’re treated to carriage preachers and groups of women singing religious songs in beautiful harmony – their hands banging on the interior panels of the carriages providing the percussion. You can buy anything from super-glue to fresh fruit. I got a great deal – five small chocolate bars for R5.
The man who sold them to me, John Cupido, has known a life on the train.
Cupido, from Valhalla Park, is 64 years old and has been doing this “for decades”. He told me that nowhere else could one meet such a diverse group of people across just a few short stops.
Sitting in a vehicle operated by someone else also provides one with an opportunity to take in the sights. Devil’s Peak rising above the Castle bathed in the orange light of the rising sun is an image you won’t soon get out of your head.
So, a train ride is not just a mode of public transport. It’s a portal to a secret world, hidden in plain sight.
Cape Argus