Human Face of Public Service

Nov 16 , 2024
By Kidist Yidnekachew

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There are certain promises we make to ourselves—things we swear never to do again. I had made such a promise about taking the city bus. Anyone familiar with Addis Abeba’s public transport knows the experience: buses are frequently packed beyond capacity, with what seems like the entire city funnelling onto every single vehicle. Passengers cram themselves into every available inch, each person shifting slightly just to keep their footing. Comfort is not part of the equation while patience is the only option.

But, as fate would have it, one morning, there it was in front of me. The bus. I thought to give it another shot. With the recent completion of road construction on my usual route, I imagined it might be a smoother ride than before—fewer delays, and fewer traffic jams. It seemed more convenient than taking three separate taxis.

In the crush of passengers boarding at each stop, a mother climbed on with her young child. From her expression, it was clear she was not feeling well. After a few kilometres, she asked if anyone had a plastic bag, as her daughter was on the verge of being sick. Heads turned, and voices were raised to alert the bus staff. But the cashier’s response was blunt and almost apathetic.

Then, to my utter surprise, the driver suggested the mother "use the window." I could hardly believe my ears. Imagine the chaos unless, of course, he planned to pull over. But by his tone, I doubted that was his intention. His response carried a sense of indifference as if he had not fully thought through the implications.

The cashier was unphased. She said that this was a city bus, not one of the rural buses equipped for such emergencies. Her expression was stern, almost defiant, as if daring anyone to contradict her. I could see passengers exchanging frustrated glances and whispering to one another. Many seemed to feel that, while the cashier did not owe the mother a solution, a little more empathy would not have hurt. Thankfully, a kind fellow passenger stepped in, offering the mother a plastic bag. He even suggested opening the windows for fresh air, mentioning that his daughter felt nauseous on the bus because of the heat. In that small moment, his kindness cut through the tension, a reminder of the compassion that can exist even in crowded, uncomfortable spaces.

The incident made me reflect on what it means to work in public-facing roles, especially within Ethiopia’s public transportation system. I understand that dealing with people all day, especially under high pressure, is no easy feat. But when someone is visibly distressed—particularly a parent trying to comfort a child—a small gesture of empathy can make all the difference. Public service is not just about efficiency; it is also about maintaining a basic level of decency and understanding.

Something overlooked in customer service is that the right temperament matters. A strict or unapproachable demeanour might technically do the job, but it does not create a welcoming atmosphere, especially when people are facing discomfort or stress. It is the small gestures, even as simple as softening one’s tone, that go a long way in improving the experience for everyone involved.

Long after I reached my destination, I could not shake the memory of the mother’s quiet desperation and the cashier’s dismissive response. It is funny how certain moments, even in a sea of otherwise forgettable routines, can linger. It was a reminder of how the smallest gestures of empathy can make all the difference.

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PUBLISHED ON Nov 16,2024 [ VOL 25 , NO 1281]

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