wildebeests on the slopes of devil's peak

I was lucky to find a seat after the train made its fourth stop. The previous day I stood from Diep River all the way to Cape Town main station, thirty-seven grueling minutes from start to end on a crammed train.

I squeezed onto a bench with four other people at the front-end of the car, while new passenger filled up the space where I stood and others got off. The doors closed and the train started moving again. Stopping at the next station to let more people on, and less off. And so we continued from station to station.

I don’t keep track of station names so I don’t know where the boy (or I guess young man) got onto the train. Maybe it was midway through the journey.

He stood with his back to me, his right arm stretched out to lean onto the side of the car. All the overhead grips for standing passengers were taken. The shape of his head was almost perfectly round. His hair was cut short and he wore two small earrings, one in each ear.

He had on a light blue shirt and deep blue chinos. The shirt seemed ideal for the hot train ride; it was such a light weave. Whenever the son shone through the window opposite, I could make out the silhouette of his body. I could not see his shoes, and did not want to lean forward to try and take a look. His friend, facing me, was already eyeing me suspiciously.

Underneath his left arm was tucked a small backpack. The left arm was bent towards his back with his hand half slipped into his pants. He shifted balance from his left leg to his right and back. And as the train traveled on to Cape Town main station, the-same-the-same-the-same-the-same, his position stayed almost unchanged, except for the shifting of balance from the one leg to the other.

From underneath the angle that his right arm made with his body I could see a bit through the window. The scenery flickered by, train style. Houses-trees-road-houses-road-trees.

I took to my book again and finished another chapter. We were nearing the end of the line. I looked up at the guy’s back again and through the angle of his body and arm to the scenery outside. I noticed flashes of green and trees before the scenery changed to buildings again, and then again the green and trees.

Framed by his body and the window, my last view of the slopes before the industrial buildings of Salt River swallowed it up, was of wildebeest grazing on the side of Devil’s Peak.