A couple of days ago about twenty of us had to cram into a old Toyota minibus that might have held about nine plus one in the front seat. It wasn't so bad, the 'conductor' had to hang onto the outside of the minibus so he could continue to hold shut the sliding side door, which at some point in history had lost any kind of locking mechanism. He didn't seem too troubled, he continued conversation by sticking his head back in through the window. My seat didn't have a back other than two pointy bits of metal, the exhaust seemed to be vented through the passenger cabin and the floor got so hot that I couldn't put my feet down. Suspension and shock absorbers were memory long before it was asked to carry twenty-plus recently fed people down a dirt road. Seat belts? We were so crammed in that really, in the event of a crash, none of us were going anywhere. A sign above the driver in Shona promised that God was in the driving seat. All I can say is that God has a heavy foot and a liking for beeping the horn.