AfWID: Baba Dlamini and WOSSO Fellows’ Taxi Rides

When you think of a taxi driver, you might imagine someone who simply gets you from point A to B, but Baba Dlamini was no ordinary driver—he was a guide, a friend, and an unexpected source of wisdom.
I first heard about him from my WOSSO Fellow colleague, Khensani Mabasa. She told me about a taxi driver who had dropped them at the wrong location at Emperors Palace.

But as she relayed the story, it became clear that Baba Dlamini had, in fact, led them exactly where they needed to be—right into the presence of high-profile members of society and government, including Dr. Phophi Ramathuba.

The way Khensani lit up every time she spoke about this encounter made me realize that I had to meet this man. What a beautiful story I thought to myself. Kunyanzelekile ndimazi lomfo.

And then, the day came. Our journey to the Soweto Tours was when I finally met the legend himself. Unlike the dramatic taxi drivers I had encountered before, Baba Dlamini was humble, grounded, and had an easy presence about him.

I strategically chose to sit in the front seat—not just to make a new friend, but also because, let’s be honest, I needed access to his charger. My phone and I have a codependent relationship, and keeping it charged is a top priority. Plus his charger has a longer cord than mine. Perfect.

From the moment we set off, the music selection in the taxi became the heartbeat of our rides. Baba Dlamini let us play our own music, which we deeply appreciated. The playlist was a mix of soul-reviving and resilience-building tunes.

From the tour to Soweto to the AfWID forum, we still made time to sing and dance a little.
But the defining moment? The day we played Nara by Tim Godfrey featuring Travis Greene. Oh, my reserved and composed WOSSO sister Dan transformed before our eyes! She lit up, jamming to the song like she had just won the lottery. We all joined in, and just like that, Nara became the unofficial anthem of Birchwood Hotel rides.

Through our rides, Baba Dlamini became more than just a driver; he was our big brother. Khensani even started calling me “MaDlamini” because of how much time I spent in the front seat with him. And, like any true taxi driver, there were moments when his instincts kicked in—like when he tried to multi-task while driving. But we had a conversation about it, and he respectfully adjusted. That was a lesson in itself—sometimes, a simple dialogue is all it takes to change a situation.

Our conversations covered everything from the Johannesburg traffic (which honestly wasn’t even that bad, but we still complained about it), to more personal topics. He spoke about his sister, who was unwell in the North West Province, and I could see how much it weighed on him.

He shared that they hailed from the Kingdom of Eswatini, and despite his calm demeanor, I could tell and feel how he carried his worries with him. It was a reminder that even those who serve us in destined ways have their own battles to fight.

And what’s a taxi ride without a little drama? One day, as we were heading back from Birchwood, rushing to meet with the incredible WISE WOMEN at Mama Colleen’s house, Tjoo! our taxi simply decided it had had enough—it started acting up, and we had to get off while Baba Dlamini and his colleague worked on fixing it.

But what could have been an inconvenience turned into an impromptu learning session.
My incredible colleague, Eucharia Nkengafack, used this moment to school us on how names are written in Cameroon. She explained that even in official documents, the surname comes first, followed by the given name.

So all this time, some of us had been calling her by what we thought was her first name, only to learn that my other WOSSO Fellow sister, whom I had come to assume her name was Ngala, Ngala was actually her surname, and her first name was Nagede, wich sounds like Nadesh when you say it! Mind blown. I have been schooled and I love it.

When I had a chat about Ngala Nadege about this lesson, she said something that touched me. That Ngala is her fathers name and she carries it with pride. I felt that. So I do believe that the taxi was meant to pause a bit for this valuable lesson.

Thank you, Eucharia, for saving me from walking around with misplaced confidence about your names!
Another thing about uBaba Dlamini? He was a man of the people. Everywhere we went, he seemed to know someone. At the Soweto Tours, he struck up a conversation with a young man, and I naturally assumed they were old friends. But no—he had just met him, yet they spoke like long-lost brothers. His warm spirit made him instantly familiar to everyone he encountered.

So here’s to you, Baba Dlamini! Thank you for your kindness, your wisdom, and your patience.
Thank you for the music, the conversations, and for being part of our WOSSO journey.
Siyabonga Zizi!

(By Zintle Khobeni De Lange, a WOSSO Fellow)