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Doha’s Taxi population is getting a much needed facelift, at a
price, of course |
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| Month two in Doha. Half of it is over already, because I spent 2 weeks in Egypt, but that’s a story for another website. After many near death pedestrian experiences in Cairo, anticipating much the same on returning to Doha (I think my new grey hairs are a result from my first month’s experience on Doha roads – despite all the warnings I received in preparation), I found that Eid Mubarak is a beautiful thing.
Why? Well, the first thing my wife noticed when we returned from Doha Airport to our apartment was the absence of traffic. Then, I listened. The cacophonic symphony of sirens (Thanks, Hamad Hospital!), and accompanying horns section (Someone’s dying people! Move out of the way!!), which were ever-present during our first month in Qatar seemed to have ended in a blessed coda of silence.
But, Dear Reader, this would not be an editorial rant if it ended happily ever after. I’m sure that the bugling Beethovens will be in full force as soon as the Eid break ends and the reversal of the mass Ex-pat exodus, once again gluts our “Work in Progress” roads.
So, let’s go back to the beginning. Everything I’d read or heard about Doha and traffic expressed great caution to be taken, particularly by pedestrians. Okay, I thought, I’ve driven in peak-hour traffic in Melbourne and Vancouver, does it get worse? Well, if anything, I’ve learned that the literature and hearsay has a tendency to understate the traffic situation in Doha. Sure we have crazy drivers back home, but the lanes (even the unmarked ones) are clear to all and adhered to in most cases. I’ve never seen so many lanes emerge from a two-lane carriageway. It’s like playing your favourite driving game on your favourite console, except that even those virtual drivers adhere to a code of conduct.
Yes, the roads are being built as we drive them, and yes that sometimes cuts the lane to one and a half car widths, but this isn’t Formula-One, people! There are actually real, precious lives that hang in the balance of the indicators that you never use!! Three flashes! That’s all I’m asking for, at the very minimum. Two could be missed with during a head-check, and one with a blink. But it seems that blinking yellow lights are like the red cape of a matador to most drivers here, who shove pedal to metal in order to close what little gap is afforded to the poor soul who only wants to make a right turn, a couple of hundred metres down the road. Sheesh, you have to plan your turns two kilometres down the road, it seems. And then you’ll be lucky to make it.
Okay, okay, you complain about the roads again. They lack any break to make a turn into your desired street, so you have to go half a kilometre to the nearest roundabout, risking life and limb in a place where the lane count doubles again what you’d expect on the straights, make a u-turn after four circuits trying to exit the roundabout, and travel back 200 metres to finally make your turn. Oh, that is providing the round about hasn’t disappeared on you, in a fit of roadwork, so your u-turn becomes a trip into the desert and back.
Dear Reader, all this is mere background to my real issue, and that is taxis in Doha. Now, I’ve been told to expect accidents to happen, and that they are a part of everyday life in Qatar. “Mostly fender-benders,” the experienced tout. Well, a few weeks ago, I experienced an accident of the non-fender-bending, side-crunching, life-flashing-before-the-eyes kind.
What happened? I got into a taxi. That’s right. I opened the door, got in, sat back in my seat and put my trust in the driver of one of the soon-to-be decommissioned orange and white cabs. Well I tell you, decommissioning is not happening soon enough. If these little carroty gems were off the road already, then maybe then I wouldn’t have been sitting right next to the semi trailer that tried to drive over our cab as we pulled out into the street in front of it. I think I’m still in shock that something disastrous didn’t happen. I lay the blame purely on the driver of our cab. The blind assumption he showed by neither indicating his intent to pull out from the parking lane, nor honking his horn to ensure that the truck driver was even aware of our presence (something that I’m almost certain he wasn’t since this was a semi trailer, not a Toyota pick-up, and it was almost beside the cab before our driver decided to pull out), all of this led to an “incident” that should never have happened.
Luckily my wife and I emerged from the cab bewildered, staring in wonder at the receding truck (he may not have noticed that something happened, maybe, just maybe) and waiting in shock for the traffic cop, who was at the roundabout right next to the accident scene, to ask if we were alright. We’re still waiting.
The orange and whites are leaving us… at some point… and looking at many of their tired, old, beaten fenders and quarter panels, I’m not surprised, but you know that saying “never judge a book…” well, I have found that just as pertinent to all the taxis of Doha. At least the old cabs are cheaper, and more importantly… slower! The old cabs just make it to 120 and beep at you as though crying out in pain. The new ones… put a driver who thinks he’s Schumacher behind the wheel, on a night with little traffic out and suddenly that warning beep is the roar of the crowed crying “More Speed! More Speed!”. I’ve not attempted those kinds of speeds alone in my dad’s V6. But in Doha! With customers!!! I would have complained if I’d not been scared stiff. I still bear the imprints of my wife’s petrified fingers in my forearm.
I can handle the fender-benders, and the speed-demons, since that’s most of the usual traffic in Doha, but what I really can’t handle about the cabs here is their impertinence. It’s hard enough to catch a cab at certain times on certain days. But I really don’t appreciate being judged when I’ve been standing for the better part of half an hour waiting for a ride. Twice so far I feel that my appearance has been examined in a driver’s decision not to offer me a ride. What makes me say this? Well, neither incident was a matter of a cab slowing down and asking me where I was going before taking off again. They were both calculated moves, in my opinion. I say this because both times it’s happened the driver did a full circuit of the roundabout at which I was standing, passed by me, eying me up and down as they continued on their way around. One stopped to pick up a couple of women who were waiting at a different part of the roundabout (fair karma, since they’d been there first – but the driver wouldn’t have known), and the other, to just drove away without the fare. Fair? Not to me! Both times I was left stranded with bags of shopping!
I would be lying if I said that getting around Doha was entirely terrible, though. The road works can’t be helped, since they are much needed improvements, extending the width of some important arterials, and converting dangerous roundabouts into signal junctions. Recent initiatives have seen the opening of Qatar’s first public transport network with the new Mowasalat buses, and it’s true that not all of their cab drivers are F-1 fanatics. But I will not be sorry to see the old cabs retired. They are constant crumpled-up advertisements of the type of driving that all who live in Qatar should work to eradicate. There is too much to live for here, with all the expansion and development, and everyone, whether local, ex-pat or tourist will retain their health, their lives, and lose a lot of stress, if the drivers of Qatar make the small effort to be more considerate towards each other. We are after all, every single one of us, live humans (not videogame players).
That’s my two dirhams,
David Mashiko
Editor
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