THE BUS STOP APPARITION
The year 1937. Route: Cape Town to Wynberg.
The Golden Arrow public transport company was established in the City of Cape Town in 1861 to provide horse-drawn tram services, at first between Sea Point and Cape Town and later in every residential and industrial area in the city. Fuel powered buses made their appearance in 1911 and trackless electric trams arrived on the public transport scene in 1937.
The mysterious events that took place in the winter of 1937 have been retold countless times, the narrators vouching for the entirely trustworthy Gwen Norton whose account is most perplexing. She kept the details to herself for several weeks after her encounter and miraculous escape from harm. The initial reluctance to tell her version of events was prompted by the strangeness of it all and also fear of ridicule as someone who has taken leave of her senses and dispensed with logic – becoming totally out of touch with reality. As the days wore on and enough time had elapsed to think through the strange occurrence, Gwen ventured to tell close relatives and friends. It was several months before she had the courage to share her experience more widely. Most found the tale intriguing, yet believable due to the conviction of the lady who was relating her story and her reputation as a lady with the utmost integrity. Skepticism there was, indeed. Understandably, given the challenge the story poses to logic and the parameters of reality.
According to the original story, before it was liberally enhanced by “facts” and interpretations that touched on the apocryphal, Gwen found herself alone at a bus stop as darkness descended upon mid-winter Cape Town. She was a Staff Nurse at the Somerset Hospital who had just completed a twelve hour 07h00 to 19h00 shift. After the obligatory hand-over to the night shift, she made her way to the bus stop to catch the 20h00 bus to Wynberg, where she shared her modest home with a husband and toddler. Winter evenings in Cape Town can be rather harsh when the North Easter is in full force and pelting rain accompanies the gusts that threaten to sweep all but the most robust human forms off their feet.
Gwen was a religious, church-going solid member of her community. She held her deep faith and commitment close to her heart. In her local parish she played her part admirably in the field of social outreach to impoverished communities hit particularly hard by the economic hardships of the Great Depression. In the congregation she interacted with fellow congregants with ease and she had cultivated many friendships with folk from all walks of life. One of these was a delightful, sweet natured policeman – whose massive physical frame belied the tender compassion and empathy he could display. His sheer size probably instilled fear and trepidation in criminals who crossed his path, but those on the right side of the law he embraced with love and compassion.
This particular evening she found herself alone at the bus stop, awaiting the arrival of the Wynberg bound bus. Never having encountered any problems at the bus stop on all the previous occasions she clocked out after dark, Gwen had no qualms about waiting alone for the bus.
In 1937 Cape Town was already a big city. The inner city was usually reasonably safe, but as is the case where people live cheek by jowl in many areas, the criminal element would occasionally emerge. On the night in question, one of those dodgy types popped up on the wintery Cape Town scene.
Gwen was sitting in the bus shelter when some thugs showed up. One was knife wielding, the rest clearly followers. They were not the “gentlemen gangsters” of Cape Town and District Six. Those chaps were well known for protecting nurses en route to and from their noble work at the hospitals. This lot were opportunists ready to liberate whatever cash the poor victim had on her person.
Gripped by fear, she appraised the situation and was clearly no match for the scum that had targeted her. She assessed the state of affairs and concluded that she had no chance against these malevolent hooligans. Unarmed and frail of frame, she turned to the only thing that would give her a measure of hope in her dire situation. She shot off an urgent prayer for Divine protection.
According to her account, when she opened her eyes after her prayer, she saw the huge frame of her acquaintance from her parish – in full police regalia. The thugs had clearly also seen this larger than life figure and had surrendered to their instinct of self preservation – hot footing it out of the area apace. As quickly as he’d appeared, the policeman left the scene, disappearing into thin air, it seemed.
The odd events of the evening had not yet ceased, however. In the blink of an eye Gwen was standing on her highly polished “stoep” (verandah in front of her house) in Wynberg. Not only had she been rescued by her policeman acquaintance, but she had been transported to safety ostensibly by astral travel. She had no recollection of boarding or alighting from a bus. The events between her experience at the bus stop and her verandah were a total void in her recollection of events.
To add to the mystery of the evening, the policeman who had initially frightened off her assailants had no memory. of having been at the bus stop on that evening. Indeed, he hadn’t even been on duty that day/night.
The apparition at the bus stop and the experience of astral travel remain the most perplexing of occurrences. Any explanation of the events of that winter evening involves a suspension of logic and adherence to the rules of reality. Skepticism aside, Gwen’s story is intriguing. To her it is reality. To her it remains inexplicable. Who are we to question her perception of what happened in a very real experience she is convinced she had?
©Paul M Haupt
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