To Live ... by Bulelwa Mgujulwa Grade 12

This is an essay written by one of our Grade 12 ladies:

Society has taught us that a human being is born, gets and education, works and then dies.  Basically, that everyone just exists.  However, in the rarest occasions we can truly say that one has lived.  i truly believed that everyone just exists until I met Oom Oubaas, a local taxi driver.

Every morning at seven o'clock sharp, in his then white, now grey, peak cap, tattered suit and takkies, Oom Oubaas welcomes his passengers:  "Good morning, Ladies and Gentlemen.  I am Oubaas, your captain for this journey.  I ensure you a safe and comfortable trip."  In his mind, he pictures himself as a young, handsome captain of a ship as big as the Titanic.

He sits on the driver's seat with pride:  shoulders square, sunglasses on and hands at two o'clock, like he is literally steering a ship.  He gets off at every stop to open the door for his passengers, as the door is faulty.  That does not faze him on bit.  His hands manoeuvre the door with an experienced swiftness that only he can master.  Then he bows to all the ladies with a confidence fit for the King of England.

On rare occasions Oom Oubaas picks a lady to dance with.  The KFC stoep being his ballroom floor.  He strides with an old-fashioned grace that contradicts his charm.  He does not mind the foul looks he receives from bystanders because to him, they are an audience.  He imagines them smiling, bowing and curtsying for he is the king and he  is dancing with his queen.

Oom Oubaas is not the type of person whose life is fulfilled by money, family and friends.  No, he lives through his imagination.  He imagines himself going to bed each night in a one hundred percent silk robe, in a palace, and not his four year old striped pajamas in a rented shack in some back yard in Mitchell's Plain.  His tattered suit is a Fabiani tailored morning suit made just for him.  He imagines himself attending a banquet every Thursday night at a neighbouring palace and not queuing for food at the soup kitchen in the community hall.

If you are fortunate enought to take Oom Oubaas' taxi one day, bow and curtsy to him, for he is a King.  Greet him with a smile because he might just honour you with a dance.  Lastly, never look down on him because he lives . . .  Do you?