Meet GPS Jane (UK English). Every day she becomes less of a life-saver and more of an annoying backseat driver. It’s either a good sign that I’m starting to know my way around, or an indicator that I am not exploring enough. By now she should probably be predicting where I’m headed, as it’s a 50-50 shot based on my current location. I have only three Recent Destinations: African Leadership Academy, 8 Pam Road, and Virgin Active-Sandton. When I tried to switch it up today and do my daily post office run on the way to work without telling her, I got berated with “Turn rig-, Turn lef-, Turn around when possible! Turn around when possible!” I found myself yelling back at her “I GOT this, Jane!”

As I wean myself from her, I’m starting to see more on my drives. Like Americans, South Africans multi-task and read their news while driving. The difference is that we don’t have iPhones to give it to us.

Instead, we rely on posters tacked to streetlamp poles. “News” is a loose term though, as MEN SIZE DOES MATTERs are peppered in between SON SAYS DAD FORCED HIM TO RAPE and RHINO MOVIE A BLOODY MUST-SEE.

 

I find myself frantically trying to keep up as the 48 point font doesn’t withstand the 80 km/hr whir. By the last McDonald’s of my drive, I’ve figured out the pattern and am ready for RHINO MOVIE when it comes. But at the stoplights, it’s time to put on the sunglasses again even though it’s a cloudy morning, because staring at my lap is easier than looking to my right. At my side, another barefoot man in a hole-y blanket is clasping his hand together, alternating between prayer and touching his cracking lips. He touches my elbow through the glass. Green light. He’s gone.