Excuse me, officer, this is only midday!

Isdore Guvamombe Reflections
Back in the village in the land of milk, honey and dust or Guruve, the autochthons, those who saw the virginity of the sun, say no sun sets without leaving behind its own history.

There, history is either good or bad but it is still history. Some memories are too hard to erase. Well, this villager, the son of a villager, happens to trudge the length and breadth of Zimbabwe and beyond. But this instalment is on Zimbabwe, on our traffic police, our national police.

Four or five moons ago, Government announced a cocktail of new traffic penalties and buffet of, among them, requirements for a spare wheel, breakdown triangles, etc., all to make our roads and travelling safe and comfortable. A moon later there was an issue over what happens about a driver’s licence, when police demand it. It was a bit noisy, but it was clarified. There was a contentious issue of police impounding vehicles over the driver’s failure to produce a valid driver’s licence.

Recently I was stopped by police just outside Kadoma, a spitting distance from the town towards Kwekwe. I had been stopped three times by police from Harare at Kuwadzana Extension, near Hunyani Bridge, and a spitting distance before Chegutu, then this particular spot. They must have called this place Ingezi.

RELATED STORIES

Before this particular stop about 135 km from Harare, I had gone unstopped, past several other police points, at Karina Garage in Norton, and hardly a kilometre away at the Sandringham turn-off, and, again less than another kilometre just before the Norton tollgate. I had also gone unstopped on two spots before Chegutu, one of which was a speed trap. On the 30km stretch between Chegutu and Kadoma, there were two more spots I was not stopped, one just after Chegutu — a speed trap and search and another just after David Whitehead. That made my police encounter in 135 km slightly less than 10.

Back to the Ingezi debacle. It was just after mid-day under the blistering Kadoma sun and the sky was devoid of clouds. This lady police officer, who did not bother even introducing herself, asked for my driver’s licence, which I produced. As soon as she laid her hands on my licence disk, she asked me to pull off the road and I obliged.

Then I immediately asked her what the issue was, to which she responded, ’’I want to check the vehicle.” This villager again asked, “But initially you said you wanted to see my driver’s licence and I showed you?” To which she retorted: “I have seen that you have a licence but now want to look for other things. Show me your spare wheel, I have seen your triangles already.”

I obliged. “Yes, you have the right spare wheel. Where is your fire extinguisher?” I showed her and she scrutinised it with squint eyes, then nodded. Then she went round the car, looked at front and rear reflectors, and nodded.

Then she dropped a bombshell: “Switch on your lights!” To be honest I was shocked and asked; “Officer, this is mid-day. It’s only 20 minutes after twelve. Why would you want to see my lights?” She went for the number plate light and insisted; “I said switch on your lights. I want to see if your number place light is working?” I burnt and almost exploded inside, but calmed and composed myself, to maintain my reputation as a good villager, a law abiding citizen and indeed as a professional journalist, an editor for that matter. I looked at her and softly asked: “my sister are you sure you want me to switch on my lights?”

She insisted, becoming visibly agitated by my question. I switched on and indeed there she went to the back of the car, stooped and looked at the light: “Yah it is working.”

Well the full import of this instalment is, as I drove off towards the Kadoma tollgate, I was really taken aback and said to myself: “Was she really serious?”

I am a mere villager and journalist, not a legal expert, but surely if I am to be asked to switch on my lights at mid-day on a May afternoon, what really could be the motive?

Was she preparing me for the night? If so, what made her think I was going to drive at night? Was she really interested in policing or in getting target revenue for the State?

Without answers I resumed playing Thomas Mapfumo’s Golden Hits, those old scintillating Chimurenga songs that made him popular when this villager was a boy. It was just after mid-day. That was my Kadoma debacle. I am sure many motorists have been exposed to this.

You Might Also Like

Comments

Take our Survey

We value your opinion! Take a moment to complete our survey