Just go!

I travel the road to Grahamstown at least once a week and have stopped being irritable by the stop-go controls. I’ve even factored them into my schedule so that I’m just ever-so-slightly later than I usually am for my appointments on the other side.

And, actually, sitting quietly for 10 minutes means I can catch up on phone calls or scan the newspaper headlines or change the music in the CD shuttle. I’m not crazy about the roadside edibles – generally pineapples and tolofiya - offered by villagers at the stops, so I usually have my own snacks. The last couple of times, I’ve managed to sneak to the front of the queue of cars, avoiding getting stuck behind heavy trucks crawling along at about 30km an hour.

It really is a simple job. Changing a sign which swivels on a pole. On one side the sign says “stop”, on the other “go”. The bugger’s job is to make sure that he shows the traffic the right sign for when they must stop to yield the road to oncoming traffic, or when they can proceed.

He’s been working on the stretch of road for a couple of months now, part of an extended Public Works job creation programme which sees people from nearby communities drawn into the massive road re-building and maintenance projects underway across the country.

I think he stays a short distance away from his point duty, apparently in an informal settlement which started from a couple of shacks on some Oom’s farm. It’s probably his first real job in a decade, ever since he was sent packing from the dairy. His job is one of the few stress-free beats around. He’s stationed in a small caravan at the start of the second three-kilometre stretch of roadworks along a winding pass which has quite difficult reverse curves.

When he puts up the “go” sign or, rather, when he swivels the pole so that the sign “changes” to go, we set off like the klappers but within the speed restriction, onto the right hand lane, enjoying the freedom of travelling without worrying about oncoming traffic.

And then, all hell breaks loose as I go around a blind curve, because suddenly there’s a car coming down on us which shouldn’t be there.

The idiot with the pole has let us through presumably without getting the all-clear from his colleague three kilometres ahead. But, it’s not just one car, there’s a long stream coming towards us. So, I swerve left on to the newly-tarred surface of the lane we would normally be driving on, squeezing in behind the lead car, unperturbed by the wet tar.

And so we continue, playing dodgems with yellow road signs, sand bags and road-building equipment, sneaking over onto the right lane when the left is barricaded and there are no cars approaching. I feel like making a u-turn and going to give the bugger with the pole a snot klap. Instead, I yell at his mate when I get to the other side that they should be more alert, someone could get killed.

There are some pretty awful jobs in the world but people’s lives still depend on someone doing their job properly.

Which is why I worry about the blokes who push themselves forward to head up big corporations, soccer companies and presidencies. It might look simple and you may think you’ve shown you have the head and the gut to run things, but jislaaik boet, do you really think you can swivel the pole properly when you need to? Our lives depend on it!