South Africa's traffic jam

The cacophony of motorists' mouthpieces was enough to wake the dead. (I know, I was working in market research coding at the time.) My colleagues and I took this God-given opportunity to take a break from a boring routine and rushed out on the balcony to a scene worth paying for.

With our grand stand seats we experienced what could only have been a uniquely South African situation.

Cape Town streets are not wide at the best of times, and in town, they are made worse by an untidy fringe of badly parked vehicles along each way. It helps to have tunnel vision when driving in Cape Town.

At the robots was parked a garbage removal truck, and having just come fresh from a municipal strike, they were in no hurry to move. In fact, they were ordering take-aways with some newly negotiated wages and some pretty empty stomachs after a good night's protest sleep at the civic centre. Behind them was parked a coal truck with the driver looking forward to some overtime pay due to late deliveries, and his helpers sleeping soundly amongst the bags of coal - they too were in no mad rush.

The cars behind this who wanted to proceed had to overtake in the oncoming lane, and this could have been achieved but for the fact that there was a bloody great removal van parked in it, with an absent driver.

The hooting and hazard lights (which for some South African drivers mean a legitimate and justifiable halt) combined to make some sort of an automotive disco, the haphazardness of which was only matched by the panicking disc jockey - the traffic cop.

Those who saw the pending disaster turned tail and fled while they could, showing some fancy footwork. One who didn't, however, was a nun driving a combi full of do-gooders, who walked straight into the lion's den and parked herself precisely in the middle of the intersection.

The DJ shouted, ordered and warned and then he threatened, directed and fined, and finally he screamed and pleaded and begged, but nothing was going to budge till the refuse men had eaten or the removal man was found.

To cut a long story short, the masses watched, criticised and advised but kept a safe distance, the traffic cop quite literally spun out, the removal man stayed away and the refuse men abused the public and ate. AND still, the coal miners slept, the nun sat and the lady on the side kept diligently washing her boss's car.

It was all over as quickly as it had begun, but there was more to this scenario than originally met the eye.
The trouble causers caused trouble, and as long as their hazards were flashing they felt legitimate.

The public directly involved grew tense and frustrated. The bystanders stood by and criticised and advised.

The authority lost control.

And many turned tail and fled.

And through it all, some slept and some worked unhindered, and some just got in the way. It's a funny old world - I wonder if it's a typical scenario.