Time is told by the position of the sun. The rush hour is either early in the morning or early in the evening especially when the sun majestically poses on the horizon, farting beautiful orange rays. One person goes this way, another the other way. It’s a bursting energy, as everyone searches for the right ride. A few young men scream for directions. A woman does the same but everyone stabs her with pinching looks of judgement.
The taxi usually a mini-bus, becomes the stage and the driver becomes the storyteller, the provocateur. On the other hand, the passengers become the audience. Themes are everything ranging from politics, adultery, religion and annoying neighbours who usually smokes in front of the children. It´s the similar story on the streets of Kitwe, Blantyre and Johannesburg.
Currently, the Taxi driver is cruising through the Alpine country, Switzerland with the first stop at Gessenerallee, in Zurich. The passengers are boringly quiet. But that works too. The taxi driver brings in music, stories to create a night of poetry. The taxi drivers hop between songs, sounds, music, simple human stories and mostly importantly POETRY. The Taxi drivers bound from topics of Elizabeth’s death to cultural appropriation (Can white people wear dreadlocks and play reggae music), diversity, white promise, personal letters, white saviorism and anything that the big mouth of the Taxi Driver spits out spontaneous.
The taxi driver night is an investigation of a potentiality in recreating a hybrid poetry.