Driving in Swaziland

Last Saturday, I drove out to Manzini with the brilliant and ebullient Lwazi, a friend from Save The Children. We meandered through Malandela’s and the Malkerns until quite late, and after I dropped Lwazi home I ended up driving back to Mbabane in the dark.

Driving in daytime is a bit like an arcade game. Or the RTA’s Hazard Perception Test on steroids.

First hazard: Other Cars. (This is a big one.) When I was handed the keys to a little Corolla used by Save The Children last Friday, it was the first time I’d driven a car in over a year. I quickly lost any embarrassment at my wobbly turns and rusty reverse parking when I realised that by being able to keep to my lane I was already ahead of the general driving public. Cars tend to weave between lanes and speeding is common, to such an extent that not speeding on the highways is a bit dangerous. Overtaking on a hill bend on a two-way road is also common, which is completely mad. Overtaking on a hill bend on a two-way road when the vehicle being overtaken is a semi-trailer making a turn – again, very common. Indicator use – optional. And that’s just the regular drivers.

Second hazard: Combi Drivers. They are a whole new league, and terrifying. (Combis are minibuses, they’re the public transport. They’re usually jammed full of people and hurtling down highways at twice the speed limit, weaving through traffic on the way.) They cause a ridiculous number of accidents. Almost everyone I’ve spoken to either has been or knows someone who has been in a combi accident. If I see a combi behind me I immediately start driving closer to the side of the road and hoping that they’ll just get past me and away from me as quickly as possible. I take combis as well sometimes, and the drivers are skilled but utterly reckless. They’ll be hurtling along at 150km an hour and turning round in their seat to shout jokes at the guy collecting fares in the door seat. The one time I’ve seen a combi driver stick to the speed limit and his side of the road was on my way back from Ezulwini to Mbabane, when we passed a pretty serious smash on the highway. Perhaps out of respect, perhaps out of a recognition of a shared mortality, perhaps because there were police crawling around the wreck, my combi driver slowed down and passed at a sonorous pace.

Third hazard: People. They are everywhere. Everywhere. They walk along the side of the highways even in remote areas, sometimes partly on the road so you have to move closer to oncoming traffic to avoid hitting them. They run across the road unexpectedly, and they hail down combis that suddenly swerve into the lane in front of you and brake to a complete stop.

Fourth hazard: Speed bumps. Lwazi ended up having to point out the speed bumps to me every time we approached them. Hopefully I’ll get better at them with practice, or just memorise where they are on the way to Ezulwini and Manzini, but I swear they are invisible! They are like mirages on the road, barely painted and strangely shaped. There were quite a few times that I hit them hard and at speed. Poor little car.

Fifth hazard: Cows. Absolutely the cows. One of the leading causes of traffic deaths in Swaziland. They stray onto the road, and I’m pretty sure a good sized cow would win a battle with my little car.

So driving at day is a Hazard Perception Test.

Driving at night is best accompanied by prayer.

Darkness falls fast and hard in Swaziland. In winter, 5pm is dusk, 5.30pm is twilight and 6pm is utter blackness. Street lights on the roads are rare, and so for the most part the only light you’ll have are your own high beams.

Every car coming from the opposite direction temporarily blinds you. The roads have very limited markers on either the verge or the centre, and they frequently curve. So, if a car starts to approach, the best strategy seems to be to memorise the shape of the road and try to avoid looking directly ahead. You can’t risk moving too close to the verge because people are still walking about the highways at night and you might not see them in the darkness. One or two wear MTN flourescent vests, but for the vast majority you don’t know they’re there until you catch them in your headlights. (I live in terror of running down some poor innocent person dressed in dark colours on the road.)

Oh, and don’t forget the cows.

So, driving in Swaziland’s really nothing like South Africa. Forget hijackers. Think buses and bovines.

(Can you tell I perversely find it kind of fun?)