2015.
A very busy year. So much has happened in our industry, in our country, and in the world. So much has changed – and yet – so much is still the same.
Another year in which we’ve seen many of our clients grow and intensify their businesses. Becoming sharper, more efficient and more professional. And another year in which we’ve met interesting people and learnt from them. People like Johnny.
Recently, I was spending some time at a client in the Kakamas area to commission their new IT system. As I had to wait for some EDI-files to arrive, I went outside for a break. And there was this big yellow truck parked with the words “I’M STILL HERE!” emblazoned in bright white letters across the top of the large windscreen. The forklifts had just finished loading the truck with export pallets, and the driver was standing outside the loading bay office waiting for the paperwork so he could leave for the harbour.
As I approached the driver to strike up a conversation, I noticed his dark ponytail, horseshoe moustache, and the long open road in his eyes. Slightly built, but with good, strong muscle tone – he was wearing blue rugby shorts, a faded Bruce Springsteen T-shirt, and a pair of what looked like replica 32-batallion jungle boots.
He introduced himself as Jonathan, but said everyone calls him Johnny. He spoke with a gravelly voice, and he had a slight stammer. At first he was not very talkative, but when I persisted and complimented him on his truck’s shiny chrome, and asked how long he’d been trucking, he started showing me around and the words started flowing. He came across as actually quite a jovial and merry kind of guy, not letting a little stammer here-and-there get him down. At one point he stated: “Ek hhhhhakkelie as ek mit mmmmyself innie tgôk pgaatie!” (I don’t stammer when I’m talking to myself while driving).
Inside his truck behind the seats and curtains there was a small black dog asleep on the comfortable bed. Johnny grabbed the dog and introduced him as “Hakkel”. The little dog did not care much for me, and curled up on the bed again when Johnny put him down.
Johnny said he’d been working in the mines up north for more than twenty years, and that he was shift foreman just before he’d been retrenched two years ago. But he actually grew up on the West Coast, where his dad had worked on the trawlers. (Ah – now I understood where his heavy accent came from!)
He explained that he had a good life at the mines: big house, lawns and a flat screen TV. But things went backward for him when he lost his job: his wife left and took all the furniture and their 9-year old daughter and went back to her mother in Witbank. Now he spends his time on the national roads driving freight. And now and then when he’s in the Cape suburbs where he rents a one-bedroom flat, he gets to spend some time with his teenage son, who’s doing his matric at Parow High. The look in Johnny’s eyes changed to pride when he talked about his son and his stammer disappeared. He said he wants his boy to start diesel-electric training next year, and that he wants to find him an apprenticeship opportunity up in Kathu.
His smile disappeared and his eyes changed again to long-road mode when he spoke about his young daughter – he was dying to see her. And he was determined that if he had to do a trip up north past Witbank he was going to take his chances and ask for permission to take a few hours off to go and visit her…
When I asked Johnny what he likes about driving his truck week in and week out, he started smiling again and said what he enjoys most is LEAVING because since he had to leave the mines he cannot bear staying anywhere for too long. And he dislikes ARRIVING at places because people sometimes seem to look down a bit on truck drivers. That’s why he rarely enters a loading bay office uninvited – preferring to wait outside for the paperwork. He said what he likes most is the freedom of driving away and taking to the open road where it’s just him, his radio, and Hakkel.
With the paperwork now in one hand, he clambered with much agility up into the cabin. He started the engine, and under the roar of the big diesel I shouted up and asked where he intends spending Christmas. He roared back that he prefers the N7 as it usually is much more quiet than the other national roads on Christmas day.
Then with a twinkle in his eyes he shouted “Watch hiegie!!” (watch this!) as he honked the truck’s heavy-sounding horn. Immediately there was a scuffle inside the cabin and the next moment Hakkel jumped up onto the huge dashboard and barked twice. Johnny honked the hooter again, and again Hakkel barked twice as they pulled away and Johnny gave a big smile and a thumbs-up. I stood there watching for a while as the yellow truck with its precious cargo moved further and further away on the gravel road in a cloud of red Kalahari dust. When it reached the tar road, thick pitch black smoke bellowed from the twin exhaust chimneys as the truck’s nose turned west.
Later that night as I drove back to the Western Cape I overtook a lot of trucks carrying fruit – each one heavily laden and making its way carefully to a waiting ocean vessel. Hours later another one decorated with LED lights loomed up in front of me and I could recognise Johnny’s number plate. As I slowly passed the trailer I imagined the pallets inside heaving slightly against one-another in the almost zero-degree temperature and darkness on the final leg of their trip on South African soil. Each carton having been carefully and meticulously packed, labelled, inspected, scanned and cooled. Each pallet having been labelled, counted, stamped, marked, strapped, and EDI’d. The fruit inside them having been nurtured and grown with huge effort and with great pride. To be bought two or three weeks later with expensive currencies and eaten by many mouths.
I flashed indicators as I passed the cabin and the truck’s horn sounded. I couldn’t be sure , but perhaps, just perhaps, there was a little black dog barking from the dashboard. As the glare of the huge headlights grew smaller in my rear-view mirror, I could make out the big white letters on the windscreen “!ereh llits m’I“.
What an amazing character, I thought. And how many times have me and my colleagues come across people in our industry who just keep on keeping on: students, young people, financial managers, production managers, empire builders who provide jobs to so many, data capturers, boutique farmers, HR managers, cold store operators, IT system champions, ambitious entrepeneurs gritting their teeth and starting up new ventures… They just keep going on. Despite all the odds and despite the challenges that often seem to be overwhelming. Each one with his or her own heartaches and dreams.
So at the end of another year – thank you again for providing opportunities for us to keep learning. Even if only that persistence paralyzes resistance.
And thank you to our new clients who have joined the ViTrax community this year: thank you for believing in us. We’re not perfect, but we will do our best – and better – to knock your socks off with service and product quality.
And to our long standing clients – an even bigger THANK YOU! It is a most humbling experience to be your service provider season after season. You are at the core of what we do every day.
If you’re not a client, but a friend or business associate – many thanks for your time and interest in us.
And finally – sticking to the theme of trucks – this little quote from a client earlier this year: “”Man, ‘n bleddie trok kan ek met ‘n hamer reg****, maar ‘n rekenaar – dit bly mos ‘n saak van gebed!” (Thank you, Mr J)
Here’s to wishing you all of the very best for the approaching festive season. May you have a meaningful Christmas. And a really good 2016! But above all, may you have fun and experience lots of love.
All the best.
Freddie
