The Blue Train nostalgia
Thalefang Charles | Thursday March 24, 2016 11:18
As a young boy I used to marvel while listening to train travel stories. The best stories were from the folks that worked in the Southern African mines. The villagers called them ‘Maboso’ and they brought the amazing tales that made me wish to ride the train one day.
Alas, it was not until I was at my secondary school that I finally rode the steel millipede. Our primary textbooks called it ‘Sebokolodi sese Ramaga’ (brown/black millipede).
Maboso called it ‘Stimela’ and my youthful peers named it ‘Gari’. I heard stories about the mean guards, simply called ‘bo Kate’ that could lock you inside the tiny train detention cell if you tried to be cheeky on board. I also heard about the train’s Magong’gongo, the Tsotsis and Makgaola-Seven who were adverse to paying their fare.
When my turn to ride the train arrived it was not just about heading to another destination, but rather the desperation of getting to the city. Those were the days when we were inconvenienced by having a tight central government where all the key services were done in the capital city.
Since most of us villagers did not have close relatives in the city, travelling there meant a return trip – things like paying for lodges were unheard of during our time. Well, every villager knew someone from the village who was staying in the city and sometimes desperation led to squatting with them. But communicating with your fellow villager residing in the city was difficult because there were no cell-phones then and their postal addresses were at the village. Plus some of us hated to inconvenience these advanced city folks that saw us as backward villagers. So the train offered the only alternative transport to the city. It offered the convenience of doing a return trip, with time to spend running around the city doing stuff.
My most memorable trips were while dealing with the Ministry of Education. I know today’s youth believe applying for scholarships is difficult, but they obviously have not really heard our struggles. I had relatives in Mahalapye and thus preferred to catch the night train there when travelling to the city. Although I was from Serowe I was not really happy with the Palapye train stop – there was something really spooky about ‘PY Station’. The train to Gaborone passed by Mahalapye around 2am and it always arrived packed with sleepy people and all kinds of smells – I still remember how it smelled, you can’t forget that smell. The train did not have windows that could open and the air-conditioning was always dead (if it’s on, it went freezing cold, so most people preferred no air-con) – you can imagine the smell out of that. Another reason why I liked Mahalapye stop was that it was easy to dodge the passenger fee. Mafia S’dogo, as they affectionately called it, was notorious for rowdy gangs – Makgaola-Seven. Many called the place ‘Ko Diponeng’, apparently because of its first streetlights that were along the railway station.
Makgaola-Seven rode the train for free also because the guards were not really at their peak at 2am in the morning. So it was a good plan to save some little money by dodging the train fee and use this while running around government offices in Gaborone. Normally the guards made their tickets check just after Mahalapye station. As they shouted out, “Ticket! Ticket!” I used to act fast asleep and they would assume I had been on the train for a long time - it is not a very watertight trick, but it worked some days. I have heard stories of adventure where some resolute cheeky passengers hid in big bags or under seats while others clung on the outside of the train to avoid detection by the guards.
The blue train ride has always been for long journeys so most people that could not afford food from the buffet car brought their own. I could write a whole article just about the train food packages – like the dumplings and roasted chicken mostly served at Palapye station or the ground nuts and grilled maize mostly packed by the northern passengers. Economy Class was where everything happened.
The assault of senses from snoring, farts and stale food all went down in the Economy Class. Cold beer and hot pies were on offer in the buffet car. So it was always a party scene at the buffet. This was back in the day when alcohol was really cheap in Botswana, before the notorious levies hit. The buffet offered those with money the opportunity to enjoy the train ride over drinks just like in airplanes. There are reports that it was the Buffet and train drinking that led to the sudden suspension of the passenger train.
The passenger train was discontinued before I tasted the First Class. I have only heard stories about it. About the comfortable beds, sheets and blankets and all I could do was imagine how awesome it must be to sleep in a rocking steel horse away from the hullabaloos of Economy Class. My last memorable train ride was a trip to watch the national football team Zebras play South African counterparts Bafana-Bafana at the National Stadium. It was the day Diphetogo Selolwane earned himself the nickname ‘U-Turn’. Together with thousands of fans from the north, we arrived that morning by train singing happy songs all the way to the Panda stand. Although we lost the match, it was a glorious day. When the game ended, we took the night train back north, and along the way, amidst the foul smells and with rough voices lost during the cheering at the stadium, we analysed how Mzansi escaped the Zebras’ kicks. Those were the glory days of the Blue train; slow, smelly, but with lots of amazing tales.