White Taxi

I have this theory about innercity muggings that was almost found out today. I don't think it's an original concept but when you're crossing town you don't always have the advantage of checking your references. If you are thinking, and only a fool switches into overdrive between combis on the streets of Jozi, then you're awake to the nuances of interracial action where memories are scarred into the group conciousness and nothing is ever simply going to gloss over because you want a better life for all and a receeding past.

I've been played for it often enough and after my first and since then only mugging some years ago I realised that there was a certain level of engagement needed between both players. Very seldom will you be walking along a crowded street in town and get hit over the head and robbed. The mugger requires an opening, provided by the muggee, the right, if you will, to be mugged. If you don't offer the right, the invitation is withheld, and the mugger will be required, through some twisted application of social norms, to remove the threat and move on.

The request comes in the form of recognition at first followed by some form of physical 'real' contact. Perhaps recognition is too strong a term, but then the victim needs to recognise the threat and somehow affirm it, agree to the terms and cons. The power switch is sudden and meant to disarm, entirely. The moment you affirm the scenario you are entitled to perform and can extract yourself only from the end of it once you have been mugged.

Sometimes the only way around being mugged is around being mugged. The semantics are as paired-down beautiful as the moment itself, that automated instant when you are singled out by someone you manage to ignore without offending and slip around and carry on and don't get mugged.

Today though it's hot, and you have spent a long time on the road and the pavements are a real people mashup. You're stepping out a slow taxi, people heldup, mamas manoeuvering themselves from a rustcan tinbucket and you're into the shove and someone walks passed and reaches out and stops you, arm across chest. This is the theory fucked, stopped, not engaged prevented from engaging, demanded attendance at a sudden trial no words at all no time for words a single moment when you do manage to move through the motherfucker and kill the motherfucker in your mind and then you are crossing the road just crossing fuck the cars and the taxis and there is a general crossing of the crowds and you're into the Bree Street rank and you don't look back this isn't the bible this is real life.

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