NOT QUITE LEFT ENOUGH
The ‘wrong side of the law’ has a cheeky end
IFOLLOWED the beige Toyota Corolla at a safe distance and stopped behind it when the soldier at the single-lane Kafue River bridge pulled it over. The soldier casually walked up to the Corolla, had a few words with the driver and then waved him on. Looking at us, the soldier indicated we should wait.
With a swagger, an AK47 hanging from his shoulder, he approached our car.
“Please switch off the engine” he unsmilingly instructed me. “I want to show you something. Follow me.”
Out of the air-conditioned car, it was warm and pleasant. The soldier started towards a road sign some 30m back the way we had come, all the time playing with the AK. If this was his way to intimidate me, it was working just fine.
“What does this sign indicate?” he asked me. “Keep left” I answered with confidence. “So why did you not keep left?” “I did!” I protested. “I followed the Zambian car in front of me and I kept just as far left as he did.”
“You people think you can come here to my country and do as you wish? No, we will not allow it. This is a very serious traffic violation. You must now go back to Lusaka, pay the fine and bring me the receipt before I can allow you to proceed.”
“What? Drive 230km to Lusaka and back again to pay a non-existent fine? You cannot be serious!”
There was no way we could drive 460 pot-holed kilometres to pay a “fine” issued by a soldier and still be at our hotel at Lake Malawi the same day. Time to bluff — I shook my head and started back to the car.
“Stop!” I turned around and saw a faint smile on his face. “As you refuse to pay the fine, I have no other choice but to arrest you.” He pointedly played with the AK to emphasise his point.
Before we had left on the journey, we had been advised that one should “keep left” at the Kafue River bridge as it was an old trick of the soldiers there to extort money from tourists. So, here we were, caught in a scam and the only way out would be to either call his bluff or pay.
“OK, so what happens now?” I asked my “warden”.
“We have to wait for my commander to hear what he wants to do with you.” “And when will he be here?” “Oh, any time before 10pm.” It was obvious this was also part of the scam.
I knew that if he kept us there for any length of time, we would have to drive through Zambia and half of Malawi in pitch darkness — not really an option. I decided to limit the damage and pay.
“Is there another way we can deal with my flagrant disregard of Zambia’s very reasonable traffic rules?” I asked him. For the first time, there was a genuine smile on his face. “I think a few cigarettes and a cash adjustment will be in order,” he said.
We had come prepared with a carton of cigarettes and some cookies. Back at the car, I asked Suzanne to hand me a packet of Lexingtons and my wallet. My “warden” watched me with a keen eye as I handed over the cigarettes and opened my wallet, extracting 2 000 Zambian kwachas (worth, at that time, about R50).
“I don’t want that rubbish” he said as I tried to hand over the cash. “I think you should rather distribute real money.”
“I only have R20 on me,” I said and thrust that note towards him. After a couple of seconds of indecision, he took the note and I turned back to get into the car. “Hey!” “What now?” I was by this point angry and frustrated.
“Today I have taught you a lesson. Maybe when I am in South Africa you will teach me a South African lesson?” he said with a wide grin.
“OK, but then I need to know your name,” I said, my smile also wide. “Kenneth Kaunda,” he grinned. Yeah right! — © Stefaans Olivier is retired and lives in Swellendam