The bus lines: The Mmashoro hop-on

Standing at the Palapye bus rank waiting for a bus in those temperatures means your limbs stop belonging to you after about four minutes. You aren't even waiting for transport anymore; you’re waiting for a rescue team. Never doubt the wisdom of an Auntie who knows her buses. She saved me from turning into a human ice lolly! She had specifically recommended – read instructed – I use Mokoka Transport for my trip. In conditions like that, getting into a Mokoka bus isn't just boarding public transport—it’s an evacuation into luxury as I soon discovered. We passed Serowe without much incident and then we stopped at Mmashoro. A man with the confidence of a CEO, the aesthetic of a runaway and a fragrance that legally requires a hazardous material permit hopped on.

Decked out in ‘Eau de Trouble’ (a delicate blend of diesel fumes, sweat and unearned confidence) and Nike Air Force sneakers his entrance spewed trouble vibes.