The Trains Run on (Africa) Time

The official tourism visitor's guide issued by the Cape Town government describes Africa time best. Its section labeled "local lingo" includes the following notation:

Just now: If a South African tells you that they will do something "just now," they mean they will do it in the near future but not immediately and possibly not ever!

In Africa, "just now" means "possibly not ever." Whenever I hear those words -- just now -- I can ignore the entire statement because it provides me no information at all. For example, what did Simo, our host in Cape Town, mean when he said that he'd get the keys just now for the garage door so we could lock up our little rental car?

As it turns out, he meant within half an hour, which surpassed my low expectations.

"Africa time" is such a widespread and well-practiced concept that, although the battery in my watch died six weeks ago, I haven't been bothered enough to replace it yet. I guess I'll replace it just now. (Of course, that's not to say that I have completely adopted Africa time yet. I still get stressed when we're running late -- just ask Laura!)

Our empregada is here cleaning our house as I write, and provides another great example of Africa time. She was supposed to come yesterday, like she comes every Wednesday. Without even a phone call she didn't show up, and without a phone call she appeared at our doorstep this morning. Alzira explained to me that, by the time she realized yesterday that it was her day to come, it was mid-afternoon.

This has happened several times before: imagine our surprise the first week that she missed work, when a 7:00am doorbell interrupted our sleep the following Saturday. There stood Alzira, ready to clean. No problem, not for her, anyway. And no acknowledgment that it was anything other than Wednesday.

I'm often sitting around wondering if she is going to show up just now.

* * * * *

I don't mean to leave an impression that Africans are lazy, or that they intentionally disregard time. Sometimes the deck is stacked against them. Sometimes the poor don't have the luxury of being on time.

I had a meeting scheduled recently with one such young man, and he was decidedly late. Once the meeting had concluded, he apologized for his tardiness and proceeded to explain to me what had happened.

He works for a restaurant, and his shift ended at 11:00pm the night before. He then usually takes a local minibus (or "chapa") home, but it was raining. Mozambicans don't like to work in the rain, and the privately-operated minibuses are no exception. Once he realized that he wasn't going to succeed in getting a ride, he started the hour-and-a-half walk home, arriving home after 1:00am, soaked and exhausted. He overslept, but not enough to make him late for the meeting. What actually made him late was that he needed a clean shirt.

He only has two, or maybe three, shirts, so his choices are to wash frequently or wear them dirty. Africans, just like the rest of us, would rather not do the latter. The rain-soaked, dirty shirt from the day before needed to be cleaned.

But laundry isn't a matter of throwing a shirt in the machine to gyrate on automatic while a quick breakfast muffin warms in the microwave. Not without electricity and running water. He first had to fetch water, and then had to wash his shirt by hand, and hang it to dry. And hope that the sun is kind enough to dry it quickly.

And when all that was finally done, he had to walk over to the nearest paved street and hope that he was lucky enough to find a minibus that is running in the direction of our meeting (which he was), or start walking.

* * * * *

Good rules-of-thumb for working in Africa are to be sure not to schedule meetings after meetings -- doing so rarely works -- and have a little mercy for those who arrive late, too. Sometimes the trains are running on Africa time.