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There are pros and cons to leaving your car at home and hopping into an Uber. But for those of us on a tight budget, the cons often outweigh the pros, especially when you’re downgraded to Uber Go. Let’s be honest — it’s the pits.

The majority of drivers, not all, seem to have little sense of the meaning of customer service. I recently had to cancel a trip after the driver sped past me despite my repeated attempts to signal him to stop. When I eventually caught up, instead of apologising, he shouted at me and told me where to get off. That kind of arrogance is infuriating.

And when the driver does stop, you’re often greeted by a filthy car. Bad odour is the order of the day. Some drive recklessly, distracted by their phones, fiddling with apps while weaving through traffic. It sometimes feels as though Uber Go recruits straight from the Noord Taxi rank.

That’s why it was refreshing to ride with a female Uber Go driver recently. At first, I was a bit peeved to discover I’d be taking a Renault Kwid — beggars can’t be choosers, I reminded myself.

But to my surprise, the car was spotless. At the back, the driver had placed a small basket with magazines, tissues, sanitiser, and other useful items for passengers. An Uber Go, offering that kind of thoughtful touch? Who would have thought?

If she had been a black African, would she have enjoyed the same privilege?

—  Sibongakonke Shoba

The driver — whose name I can’t disclose without her permission — then shared an astonishing story. Her previous trip had been to fetch a woman from OR Tambo International Airport.

The passenger explained that she was a foreigner living in SA on a tourist visa, which was due to expire on July 6. Her plan was simple: leave the country, then return on another three-month visitor’s visa. Bags packed, she headed to the airport.

But when it was time to check in, nature called. She dashed to the restroom, only to stay long enough for the boarding gate to close. Despite her pleas, officials refused to let her board. Her luggage was offloaded. She then walked back to immigration, where her passport was stamped again — effectively granting her another three months in the country.

The story goes that she works at an IT company, despite not holding a valid work visa. So, after missing her flight, she simply returned to her job as if nothing had happened.

I couldn’t independently verify her story, nor could the driver provide the nationality of her passenger to confirm whether her passport qualified her for visa-on-arrival privileges.

But if true, it’s troubling nonetheless. According to the home affairs department, movement is complete when the traveller is received by immigration at their destination. Without a stamp from the destination, a traveller is unlikely to be allowed back into the country.

According to my Uber driver, her passenger was not a black African, meaning she is unlikely to face the wrath of xenophobes to check her passport if she’s here legally.

But she is not supposed to be in SA.

And yet, she remains. This is why it’s such an uphill battle to counter the narratives peddled by xenophobes. At the centre of their argument is the reality of our porous borders.

The incident leaves me with several questions. How could authorities stamp a passport that had already been stamped just hours earlier? How was she allowed to walk back to immigration when her visa was expiring? If she had been a black African, would she have enjoyed the same privilege? Did she bribe someone?

On the surface, it may sound like a mundane issue — someone exploiting a loophole in the system. But given the current climate in SA, it’s a serious matter. It forces us to reflect on how immigration laws are enforced.

While we fend off vigilante groups targeting foreigners, we should also be asking serious questions of our government. How are foreigners allowed to abuse our immigration system so easily?

These stories — and others I cannot publish here — are the unexpected upside of taking Uber Go.