We left Francistown for Bulawayo last Friday a little after 8pm since the border closes at ten.

So
there was no hurry to get home. Sibindi's half toner (truck) was laden with a new wardrobe and a
second hand refrigerator, the sweat of a fellow diasporan who could not make the trip. We picked up
a passenger, to offset the costs and bore down on the A1 to Ramokgwebana border post.
The drive was uneventful except for a minor spat with combi drivers who were not happy that we
picked up their potential customer. There were no roadblocks on the Botswana side at this hour
unlike the other side. When we got to the border our passenger suddenly developed cold feet. He
had no papers and wanted us to smuggle him across barely concealed at the back. He had made the
wrong bet.
There was no way we would have broken the law in Botswana, particularly after our own
government arrested two rangers for 'straying' into Zimbabwe a month previously. I could see us
hitting the headlines. Sibindi was firm, I suggested that he negotiate his way past immigration.
What was to follow can only happen in science fiction novels. Our passenger, who had by now told
us his life of woe picked up his bag and simply walked through a cluster of itchy-trigger-finger
border officers as if they weren't there.
When he rejoined us on no man's land we asked him what had just happened and he nnchalantly
said that he had just walked out of Botswana without as much as a stitch of identification! As we
drove toward Plumtree borderpost, the two of us concluded that what we had witnessed was surely
beyond the normal and that our passenger 'wayelento zakhe' he had his things that caused a
momentary time warp through which he could wiggle through.
At the Zimbabwe border, he told us he was fine ad simply vanished without even glancing at the
border office door. He was home. In spite of the fact that there were a few people crossing at that
hour, the immigration queues were excrutiatingly slow. It was much later that we discovered that
civil servants were on strike in Zimbabwe and by inference, these guys were on a go-slow as they
belonged to those classified as essential services. By comparison, the ZIMRA (customs) officers
were a cheerful lot, earining commission from the revenue collected, I suppose.
It also explained why those at the gate were overzealous to the point of irritation. They even asked
me if my underwear was new. After running the gauntlet, we drove into Zimbabwe, preparing for
the worst in police blocks. Sibindi assured me that at 11pm they would be too tired to mount any
and he was right for the next 80 kilometres until a lone barricade jumped at us in the thick of
nowhere. Fundraising, was my assumption, and I was right. Police officers at home drool at the
sight of foreign number plates, these guys were rabid incomparison.
We were made to park the truck before being bombarded with a barrage of questions that would
have made the Spanish Inquisition look like a boys scout outing. We had to produce papers for this
and that item and at one point threatened to make us take down the items on the truck so that they
might search them for weapons of war I suppose. It was at this stage that I assumed my 'official'
tone and asked them matter-of-factly if they wanted to be bribed. That really shocked their socks
off because they returned all ourdocuments in the blink of an eye and waved us off.
As we drove towards Bulawayo, I thought about how little things have changed in as far as public
fficials are concerned. However, a real shock to me was how the traffic between Zimbabwe and
Botswana had been reduced to a trickle. Apart from the odd bus of cross border traders, the border
was very quiet by any standard. A sign of the times, perhaps, a reversal of fortunes.
Saturday morning in the city centre has always been busy. The ladies will be dressed to the nines
desperate for the early catch. By comparison, the guys are scrffy, as if they slept in the clothes they

were wearing. Their demeanour is business like, sent out of the house to look for the elusive rand or
dollar to feed the kids. Yes, there is so much to buy, but the cash is hard to find. Which explains the
civil servant' strike that has reached a deadlock. The Public service Commission has declared it
illegal and said that they will not negotiate until the public servants return to work. The workers on
the other hand say that they have heard that one before. It will be another year before the employer
does anything if they do.
What is odd about the work stoppage is the unprecedented unanimity of workers' representatives. In
the past, some splinter organisation would resist going on strike labelling it as unpatriotic. Not this
time though one teachers' union has threatened to go back to work because they feel that the strike
is being used to discredit the leaders of one of the parties! Another thing is that life goes on! You
can hardly notice that there is a strike going on apert from the fact that the kids are playiing catch at
home.
I also managed to attend a Parliamentary public meeting at the City Hall on a pivate members bill to
amend the Public Order and Security Act (POSA). Now if there is an emotional issue, its that
concerning this Act. The verdict was unanimous, that POSA should not be amended but rather
repealed altogether. The chairman had a tough time reminding the audience that it was beyond the
mandate to repeal the Act. Th contribution that took the cup was from Busani Ncube, CIO of a
certain youth organisation, eh, Chief Information Officer (in case you get ideas.)
To racuous laughter from the sizeable crowd, he railed against the item in the Act that makes it a
criminal offence to propose to a female police officer in uniform. He said that men ran the risk of
being arrested if the said officers did not take too kindly to their 'lyrics' which he said was a
violation of young men's rights to express affection to pretty police officers The deputy chair, the
honourable Reggie Moyo MP who was equally in his element, responded by saying that he should
be patient and wait until the said officers took off their uniforms after duty.
In general, if this town hall meeting is anything to go by, then the constitution making consultations
will be very entertaining indeed. Another feature of these meetings is the fact that Zanu Pf MPs
were not used to be told in the face what they did not want to hear. Its a total mind shift for them to
be in the firing line instead of telling people what they think is right for them. I could see them
twitching behind the ornate desk as the audience spoke their mind.
As I returned to Botswana, I could not help but think back on the few days I had spent at home. The
power cuts are still unrelenting to the extent that the much lauded eastern suburbrs are no longer
attractive to live in. You might as well be living in rural Domboramavara. One even wonders where
the punitive tariff is going. There is even news of new diamond discoveries in Chipinge meaning
that things are looking up... as long as they don't end up in some chef's pocket.