Triangulation

The pig from 'Peg + Cat' - a Canadian animated kids show with frequent geometric themes - may have missed his true calling as a road traffic policeman in Mugabe-era Zimbabwe (it's nice to be able to write that last bit with a hint of the past tense). At least he would have brought a little operatic enthusiasm to the role. One of the catchphrases that echoes through our house at high volume: 'I love triangllllles!!'

Our preparation for our Christmas road trip to Bulawayo involved getting familiar with a dizzying schedule of fines ('No Driver's Licence: $20'; 'Headlights causing dazzle: $15'; 'Spit in or from vehicle: $5' - bargain!), and ensuring we had adequate fire extinguishers, safety vests, car jacks and matching tyres to satisfy the pernickety fine collectors that have been a fixture of car travel in the country. Fines in Zim are big business. One news report I read earlier last year, indicated a projected 60 million USD of revenue to be raised from roadside fines, an increase of 100% on the previous year. People had reported being stopped up to 15 or 16 times on the road between Victoria Falls and Bulawayo, a distance of 440km.

Despite acquiring most of the prerequisites to play road safety bingo, we had failed at finding the necessary item to ward off ‘traffic offense 15, paragraph 4’ “insufficient triangles”. Zimbabwean regulation sized road triangles are small metal red reflective triangles that you can place on the road to warn vehicles in the event of breakdown. We had Zambian ones, but these would not do for the neighbour, Zimbabwe. We could have just worn the fines, but this approach has the potential to become tiresome and expensive. We had also heard stories from a long-term resident of producing triangles at a checkpoint that were rejected as being too large. This was followed by producing another pair that were declared to be too small. He managed to get away without a fine though, as he had claimed (with some wit and charm) that they were the appropriate size for a Mini. Apparently, though, the only company that made the triangles in regulation size had gone out of business, so triangles were also hard to come by in Zimbabwe.

More momentous happenings had of course been occurring in Harare. In a surprisingly smooth transition, the dictator of 37 years had been forced to resign, albeit with a handsome severance package. Mugabe's former colleague, Emmerson Mnangagwa - a man with his own history of violence - had come to power in a 'coup that was not a coup' with the support of the army and much of the populace. Also, one suspects, support came from foreign financial backers - 'This is not an African coup', some commentators mused.

This occurred 2 months before Christmas, and we had thought about changing our holiday plans. We followed the news, and sought advice from our friend Bruce, who grew up in Bulawayo and whose family we were going to visit. Daily life had changed little for most Zimbabweans, and importantly there was little unrest, as the interests of the military and the public seemed to be mostly in alignment. Perhaps the honeymoon period was the ideal time to visit.

We had gathered all the appropriate paperwork for taking our cars to Zimbabwe - involving a visit to the insurance office, and to a police station on the outskirts of Lusaka to apply for, then gather our Interpol document. Knowing that border crossing and bureaucracy can be time consuming - and having seen the queues of trucks at the border crossing at Victoria Falls - we had organised our journey in anticipation of an all-day border adventure, with 2 adults taking the fall for the car paperwork, sending the other 2 with the kids across on foot.

Bruce and I drove off, clutching fistfuls of documents and US dollars. One of the more scenic border crossings in the world, the bridge that leads to the Zimbabwean border post offers both waterfall views and bungee jumping. On the far side, we entered a small administrative building, and started proceeding from window to window to gather documents and stamps from each one, in seemingly random order. The queues were short and the counter staff cheerful. By the time the second thunderstorm hit, we were starting to feel guilty about making the kids walk. A quick trip to a large inspection shed (without being in any way inspected) to record our details in a log book and we were through! Sans family, but their sodden forms shortly appeared on the horizon and headed for the visa section.

While we waited, Bruce enquired of a local taxi driver where you could purchase appropriately-sized triangles. He chuckled: 'the army has taken over the checkpoints ... and they don't care about triangles.'

Viva Zimbabwe! And screw the triangles.