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The ‘weyala’ (Urban Amharic slang for taxi fare
collector) is the conductor aboard the fleet of
private minibus taxis operating a critical though
nonetheless marginal economy of private transport
services in Ethiopia’s fast-expanding capital city -
Addis Abeba.
During the chaotic aftermath of the May 2005
national elections, the minibus drivers and their
weyalas went on strike in protest against the
authorities. They caused the city to come to a
virtual standstill, but it was a short-lived
victory. The marginal economy that these young men
serve is well illustrated by the fact that in the
face of immediate government threats to revoke their
licenses, if they did not give up their strike, the
defiant drivers and their weyalas were easily
cajoled into aborting their premature protest. In a
matter of days, they were soon back to eating humble
pie on their well-worn routes.
There are approximately 8,000 minibuses that serve
central Addis and some of its suburbs. Most of these
vehicles are the blue and white 12-seater Japanese
made Toyotas; as with other public transport
vehicles in urban Africa, as many peoples as can fit
are packed into them, especially through routes
(such as the forested elevation called Entoto Mariam)
that are devoid of the otherwise ubiquitous traffic
police.
In
Addis Abeba, the minibuses and the traffic police of
the city stand to each other as do prey and
predator. The minibus beast with the four eyes of
the driver and his weyala are always keenly on the
lookout for the equally alert traffic police
predator. Himself a marginal economic actor, the
traffic police predator is only too happy to devour
the slightest traffic infringement. Thus it is, that
the weyalas and the drivers regard the officials
they refer to collectively as ‘Traffic’ with a
mixture of respectful awe and thinly disguised
contempt.
Like a ship’s lookout, but always bent in half in
torn and soiled clothes, and with his neck
continually stretched out of the window as he scans
his route, the weyala cries out his destinations
with tireless repetition. Unfilled space in the
minibus means the weyala and the driver’s unfilled
pockets. And if the minibus is on an un-policed
route, then the frustrations of the already boarded
passengers notwithstanding, the driver and his
weyala will not move on until the minibus is filled
beyond capacity.
The weyala is a territorial animal ready to
challenge any trespass on the ground where his
vehicle lies in wait of passengers. Along the major
boarding and disembarking routes, weyalas normally
observe a code of ‘first come, first served’ and if
this code is infringed, a fight may be in the making
if they are no self- appointed territory brokers -
‘terra askabaris’ - to address the offending weyala.
As a result of these kinds of unpredictable social
drama, no one can ever be certain of how long the
minibus journey will take.
The weyala has an uncanny ability of knowing that a
certain commuter would board his minibus even before
the commuter decides to, and he possesses several
dramatic vocal and gesturing strategies to persuade
the commuter into his minibus so that three or more
smelly people, a chicken, or sheep, can press
against freshly laundered trousers. But the weyala
is also a fickle lover who adores passengers when he
is without, and dispenses with them when he has
plenty; he will do anything to get passengers into
his minibus when it is empty and everything to
ignore them when it is ‘full.’
The weyala is also a natural born tax collector
whose thick, grubby fingers never miss a payment. At
the same time, the weyala is shrewd enough to feign
forgetfulness so that he often collects twice from
the same passenger, or at least he tries to, for
most minibus passengers are like the weyala - they
are themselves occupants of one of the many marginal
economies of Addis Abeba: the butcher, the baker,
and the candlestick maker.
All of whom are thereby singularly alert to the
precise amount of money that may chance to pass
through their own grasping hands.
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