They have pop-up stands during peak hours. Frustrated and grateful motorists toss some money their way. Then, it rains coins for a moment, and the impromptu pointsmen become national treasures. Some wear reflective safety vests, while others wing it in their ill-fitting jeans with gaping holes. I am a regular client of two in particular, David and Priscilla.
Priscilla is my favourite because she is an old lady. And she wears worn woollen gloves, even in mid-summer. I think she chose them to make her look more like the ‘guys on the scooters from the insurance company’ whom she studied from the side of the road while trying to hawk those godawful straw brooms they teach them to make in rural ‘business creation’ workshops. Her side hustle as a pointsman makes her more money, but it is a sporadic income stream. The service only becomes relevant when there is a power outage, and the traffic builds up at the specific intersection where she works.
While I am talking to her, she looks over her shoulder in case ‘the Metro comes and locks me up.” She makes handcuff gestures with her hands. “This government is very bad,” she says. “They are doing nothing. Look at all the potholes.” I nod solemnly. I congratulate her on the great deed she is doing for her country, fold the R50 into her dirty gloves and drive off. People like Priscilla are heroes to us. They inspire phrases like ‘This is the free market in action!‘ and WhatsApp groups go ablaze with the warm spirit of ubuntu across South Africa.
Guilt entrepreneurs
“They are guilt entrepreneurs,’ says Ron Weissenberg, who lectures on commerce and entrepreneurship and studied evolutionary psychology. It’s a phrase he uses to be deliberately provocative and I reply that I am uncomfortable with the suggestion that these people are advanced beggars. “Think about it. Part of what you are paying for is conscience alleviation,” he explains. “If I replace the word ‘guilt’ with ‘empathy’ or ‘compassion’, will that make it easier for you?” he asked. “Let’s call them hope entrepreneurs? Benevolence ambassadors?” I said I much preferred it.
However you phrase it, Weissenberg suggests that more than one trade is taking place when I tip Priscilla. There is ostensibly a reward for traffic regulation. Still, a much more powerful and significant emotional and psychological transaction is taking place, and it relies on one party feeling superior to the other. The giver must be aware of an advantage without which a money change would not occur. Pity, mercy or generosity – or that ugly word, ‘guilt’ – all operate on a level of cognisance of privilege on the part of the bearer of the gift.
And that gratifying glow one gets when Priscilla’s eyes sparkle and she flashes a toothless smile in gratitude, is a sign that, somehow, the unequal power dynamic is momentarily evened out.
To test this line of thinking, ask yourself what would happen if David or Priscilla suddenly started wearing fancy clothes. What would your reaction be if she solves her awkward physical money collection problem by sub-contracting the process to a helper who comes to your window asking for the cash immediately when she guides you through the intersection? My guess is you would be less inclined to give her money. Weissenberg agrees.
“It would be harmful to her mercy-based business model if she started showing up to work in a car, for instance. Or if it appeared she was making too much money overtly. Before wearing a brand new and shiny reflective vest, maybe put some dust on it or make it look like you’ve slept in it under a bridge before,” he winks. It is a tricky tightrope.
Emotional pressure
Neither Weissenberg nor I are saying that people like Priscilla consciously try to extort money via emotional pressure. On the contrary, they understand themselves as delivering an essential service to motorists by improving our daily commute. Arguably, they are. But for the noble savage to remain dignified, they, unfortunately, have to stay savage so the saviour can save. So two barters are happening here. The traffic direction is the obvious one. The other is a magnificent and subtle reallocation solution that addresses many of our country’s many social and political issues in quite a remarkable way.
I believe Priscilla is better at being a goodwill ambassador than a pointsman. Sometimes it looks like she is doing the YMCA in the middle of the road. It is unclear whether she is pointing out emergency exits in an aeroplane or telling wild mosquitoes to buzz off. So I slow down when she is on duty, try to decipher her ever-changing semaphore system, gauge what most of the rest of the cars are doing, close my eyes and go.
There is also an impressive body of research indicating that traffic roundabouts (like the one 1km up the road from Priscilla’s spot) are, on average, a safer and more efficient system than direct human intervention, regardless of how well the humans are trained. In a roundabout, all vehicles travel in the same direction, eliminating many conflict points arising in a 4-way stop situation. Cars also slow down around a curve, so there are fewer fatalities. Roundabouts also require less maintenance and do not need human or electronic regulation, thus requiring no electricity or education. It is an individualist’s dream: everyone must think for themselves and make decisions.
In South Africa, though, we are stuck with an infrastructure based on ‘robots’ while being blessed with an oversupply of Priscillas. So the current ad hoc traffic system is an example of taking lemons, making lemonade and selling it in tot measures decorated with rainbows.
Economically naïve
Weissenberg cautions that the ‘This is a free-market solution’ view is economically naïve and emotionally artificial. The clue to the muddled thinking is in the phrase they invariably use to follow up the initial claim: “All the government has to do is train these people and give them a small stipend.” If the GOVERNMENT is the solution, it is not a free market, is it? “People confuse free markets with free enterprise, and it can become a liberal-sounding catchphrase deflecting from something else.”
I hint that the phrase becomes a sublimated expression of racism. So, instead of saying: ‘These blacks in charge are messing up everything,” you turn it around by giving a small tip to a pointsman in the name of economic equality. Priscilla scores a few Rand, plus you feel good about yourself and your place in our polychromatic population.
It is still a willing buyer, willing seller situation. The fact that neither the buyer nor seller knows the exact nature of the product being sold is beside the point, quite frankly. If Priscilla directing traffic Village People Style manages to bring about, even momentarily, a sense of hope and benevolence amongst all people, while uplifting herself and encouraging spontaneous wealth redistribution, she is delivering perhaps a better nation-building service than the Truth and Reconciliation Commission and the Institute of Race Relations could ever hope to achieve. Priceless. And so cheap, too.
I ask Priscilla whether she has noticed a pattern in spending between the types of cars and people that come by. Which cars tip more often? “The ones that give the most are the tall Mercedes cars,’ she says, indicating a higher vehicle and then pointing to a Porch Cayenne driving past. “Big Mercedes cars and trucks.” I ask whether black or white people tip better. “White people give better money. Black people only tip R2 or R5”
Perhaps Weissenberg’s word ‘guilt’ was not so far off.
The day after I wrote this article I stopped at my intersection. I parked my Jeep 4X4, went up to her, looked her in the eye and said, ‘Siyabonga.’ She does not know why I thanked her on behalf of other people.
All she knows is that this time, I gave her R100.
The views of the writer are not necessarily the views of the Daily Friend or the IRR
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