“You use the train?” she asked me, look­ing down her nose through her read­ers. Amass­ing me with the ‘them’ who relied on the grey and yel­low car­riages in the Cape Peninsular.

I love the train, the car­rier of per­sonal worlds and pri­vate real­i­ties.  I remem­ber my first trip, the first time I engaged, not as a tourist going to Simon­stown, but as a com­muter.  I’d moved offices and decided if I expected my staff to use the train, then I should too.

So I boarded at Clare­mont sta­tion one sunny after­noon.  At my naïve best, I didn’t real­ize the class split by car­riage between first and third class.  In the first five min­utes, two rather dodgy look­ing teenagers were engaged in argy bargy that was accel­er­at­ing beyond using their elbows.  The fierce inter­rup­tion by an elderly ‘tan­nie’ (aun­tie) fur­ther down the car­riage, pried the one young­ster away with her eyes to a seat safely beyond ‘punch­ing dis­tance’.  At the next sta­tion, I changed car­riages only to find myself sit­ting oppo­site two pro­lif­i­cally and ama­teurly tat­tooed young men who glared at me for the dura­tion of the journey.

It was with relief that I arrived safely in Muizenberg.

I now know that the car­riages closer to Cape Town are first class and I head for their safety every time I use the train.  This week I opted for a train ride into the city rather than face an hour of traf­fic on a rainy Cape Town morn­ing, plus the R50 park­ing bill.  I love the one­ness of it all.  It makes us all equal — no vehi­cle icons to set us apart. Thou­sands of per­sonal worlds gath­er­ing on a track – going some­where, their thoughts the jour­ney, the sta­tion their des­ti­na­tion. A per­fect anal­ogy of enjoy­ing the jour­ney, but still get­ting to your destination.

In a coun­try with our racial his­tory, where we live in the shadow of apartheid and where those that have drive cars, catch­ing the train is a lev­eler and reminds me of my human­ity and the com­mon chal­lenges that I share with my fel­low trav­el­ers – work­ing mother, wife, step-mother, spir­i­tual ‘journeyer’.

It’s pub­lic trans­port day in early Octo­ber, maybe I should start drum­ming up some support!

Kim Barty owns and opeates Tro­jan Horse — a spe­cial­ist Cape Town PR and com­mu­ni­ca­tions business.