Potato Potato Potato

Here's a short story that will most definitely illustrate a typical Swazi approach (very non-chalant) to something which in a Canadian context, may have caused significant increases in blood pressure, if not worse.

This past weekend our group (from UBC) had our midsession retreat. It was at a lovely wildlife reserve not too far from Mbabane and facilitated by an incredibly inspiring woman from Lesotho. (the other teeny country encompassed by South Africa) At the end of the session, on Sunday afternoon, we all decided to have lunch together in Mbabane before heading our separate ways. Of course, it started absolutely pissing it down while we were in the restaurant, so the boys decided they would take a taxi home. (They had a lot farther to go, on a journey comprising two soggy crammed buses and a ten minute trek between bus ranks.)

In any case, one of them phoned the taxi driver and asked that he pick us up at the restaurant (Nando's flame grilled chicken- oh yeah). He said he would be there at 3. At about 3:10 we called again, and he said he was "stuck" but on his way. ok.

A few minutes later (about 20), we are in the car. (Luckily, Gelekeceni was on the way so I bummed a ride :) As we head for the entrance to the highway, our driver elaborates on why he was "stuck": apparently, his windshield wipers had stopped working. It is still raining. Excellent.

Sitting in the front seat, I can't see anything. So as we accelerate to about 80 km/h on the curvy, hilly highway to where I live, I have to ask: "How can you see anything?!"

"Ah, no problem, no problem, my friend taught me a trick!" Great. "This side, I can see ---I put potato." Huh?

Yep, he had literally cut a potato in half and rubbed it on his windshield in attempt to be able to see the road without windshield wipers.

Lol. Okay, so I admit that when I looked over to his side, there were small spots where the potato substance had minimized the blur cause by the MASSIVE amounts of rain dumping down on the car.

After a few minutes of contemplation I say "I think you need more potato."

He just laughs. Typical. Then to comfort me, he says "Don't worry, I use the white line too" (meaning the lines on the road)

Oh good.

From the backseat, the boys offer to stop and buy some potato.

After rummaging around under his seat, the driver says "No no, don't worry," and proudly produces a chunk of potato.

Needless to say, I made it home safely. And as I was scrambling up the concrete steps to my path home, our taxi driver was diligently smearing potato on the windshield of the car.