The perfect timing

Dr Fahim Chand | Monday March 23, 2026 09:04

Above us, the sky kept repeating the same dramatic trick, black and grey clouds marching past, yet the sun stubbornly held centre stage, as if contractually obliged to deliver a perfect summer day. Ideal weather for an ocean-side performance!

The horizon rushed toward us as we gathered speed with respectful caution, eyes scanning for the next theatrical bend. Beyond the modest retaining wall, a structure whose confidence far exceeded its size, the cliff tumbled into brush and stubborn green vegetation clinging to survival.

Far below, the ocean churned with muscular energy, waves completing their long voyage by hurling themselves theatrically against the rocks.

As the road coiled through the mountains, nature, that shameless pickpocket of breath, robbed every passenger without apology. We had travelled this chosen route a billion times, yet the wonder refused to grow old.

Cape Town remains my favourite city on earth, and we were gliding along Chapman’s Peak Drive, that glorious ribbon of road ending in the sweeping, cinematic reveals of Noordhoek Beach.

It felt like the sort of view humanity spent centuries trying to earn the hard way. Since the dawn of time, humanity travelled at the speed of blistered feet. Cavemen trudged, pharaohs swayed on chariots, and emperors endured horse rides that could rearrange internal organs.

Then the motorcar sputtered into existence, sounding like metal with anger issues, and everything changed. Distance shrank, towns stretched, and the noble art of walking was quietly retired. The car gave us freedom, convenience, and the curious ability to drive two minutes instead of walking one.

Highways replaced footpaths, parking replaced patience, and traffic taught us that progress, while fast, prefers to arrive late. And yet, the freedom of sitting behind the wheel, the world waiting at the end of a gentle press on the accelerator, must rank among life’s simplest and greatest pleasures.

Our little city of Gaborone has grown steadily from what was once a one-horse town into something resembling a mini-metropolis.

With this transformation came the luxuries of modern life, proper shopping centres, bright lights, and evenings at Airport Junction instead of the compulsory stroll through Pop In supermarket to see who was loitering near the shelves.

In those days, traffic meant two cars, one goat, and a polite wave. Progress, however, travels with luggage, and it rarely packs light. Morning and evening traffic now delivers long, motionless pilgrimages to and from work.

I join the daily herd at these inconvenient hours, leaving early and creeping forward with philosophical calm, using the time for prayer, reflection, and the hopeful search for a forgotten musical gem buried somewhere in my playlist.

On particularly slow mornings, I have enough time to question my life choices, plan a holiday, cancel the holiday, and still not reach the next traffic light. Not everyone shares this serenity.

Some motorists, convinced the laws of physics are merely guidelines, overtake into oncoming traffic or treat red lights as friendly suggestions rather than legal instructions. George Orwell once imagined a world where Big Brother watched everything.

It seemed far-fetched then. Now cameras stare down from our traffic lights, blinking without emotion, never late for work and never distracted by their phones.

I welcome the safety, of course, though I do wonder how a cyber-eye judges that delicate moment when amber means “go carefully” to the driver but “stop immediately” to the law. I have, on more than one occasion, crossed an intersection with what I believed was perfect timing, only to be informed otherwise by a uniformed gentleman with a notebook and very little sympathy.

With a P7,000 fine waiting patiently at the crossroads, one cannot help but feel that the road to modern progress is well paved, carefully signposted, and fitted with excellent surveillance.

We wanted big-city convenience, and we got it, along with big-city traffic, big-city cameras, and very big-city fines. The open road still promises freedom, of course... provided Big Brother agrees you crossed the line at the correct shade of green.