True Story

Two days ago. Me driving to the grocers to get foodstuff for a couple days, coz Imma gonna bring Oubaas into workshop for great big motor inspection, tune-up and repair n shit n stuff. Need nutrition for hubby and me while being grounded.

OubaasScreen
Oubaas, the sweet summer child. 😉 Notice missing license disk in lower left hand side of windscreen? No? Of course not, is not fukn there!

Ok, veggie dealer open at 8, me got appointment with mecha at 9-ish, me good on time. Suddenly Polisiekar veers from opposite lane into mine, emergency lights on n all, forces me to stop. 😮

Orca’s fave produce and meats and eats store.

Oubaas like Screech!, me like “Whoah! :o”

Two traffic officers – we call ’em “the little police” here since they too stupid to hunt gangsters and do real police stuffz and so – leave their patrol car and start walking up to me.

Me thinking “Uh oh”.

Real police. No fuk with! 😮

Is early morning, rush hour and they cause a not-very-helpful traffic delay, so two or three impatient taxis pass me and wanna get pass the cops too … get stopped immediately.  Of course.

Shower thought: Why do they call it ‘rush hour’ when in reality nobody actually moves?

Me and my highly illegal van are forgotten momentarily since the coppers are busy shouting at the taxi drivers and checking papers and receiving bribes … until the whole congregation dissolves in laughter.

Real killer cops! Protecc da moolah! No fuk with.

Huh? Wotz going on?

Uh yes, Africa. Explains everything. =^.^=

Friendly police service. Can fuk with.

You must know, life here sometimes feels like living in a movie set, and all the locals are actors, playing like real country. All just makebelief. Often it’s done quite well but when you look deeper into the machinations, you’ll notice nobody really knows what they’re doing. Particularly when it’s about beaurocracy (and they love that shit here, I tell ya). And it’s totally non-biased and non-racist. Blankies are as bad as the coloureds and blacks, when it’s about organsiaton and sensible work.

Crimebusters! No fuk with!!!

Anyhoo, finally one of them cops finds time to care about your editrix (who has already got her drivers licence out and handy at this point), and so this very professional conversation happens:

Western Cape traffic police. 😉 They all sisters of Trevor Noah? Look like.

Me: “Morning Officer, OMG (no, I never say actually OMG, in real life it’s more like Uhmagawd!) what terrible shit have I done?”

Cop: “We noticed you don’t have a licence disk in your window.”

Need lisensie skyf every year. Get when pay taxes. Can only pay taxes when vehicle is registered. Can only register vehicle if have paperwork. For paperwork need police clearance. For police clearance need special formular from traffic department. Is spiral of doom! 😮

Me, asking myself how they noticed that from at least 50 meters away on the other side of the road. Obviously working with snitches: “(Thinking “No shit, Sherlock.”) No wonder sir. I don’t have no licence disk!” I say loud and proud and with a hint of brattyness.

Copper: “Oh, why not?” Gets out his little notepad to issue hefty fine … I have dozens of those in my desk drawers, never paid anything.

Me: “Traffic dept always losing all my paperwork, we’ve already got an agent to take care about the licencing thing.” Knowing quite well that I’m nevertheless not allowed to use the vehicle under no circumstances. :/

The pride of his tribe.

Cop: “Who is the owner of this vehicle?”

Me, with very strong german akkzent and superduper amateurish attempt to be friendly in Afrikaans: “That would me, mijnheer.”

Cop, looks at me, obviously calculates in his mind how much additional paperwork it would mean for him to deal with a foreigner bish … who will in all likelihood go complain at station commander: “You go on and have a nice day, lady.”

Me: Step on pedal … * vroom vroom.

Peepels, lemme tell you I fukn lurve South Afrika!

In every other country on the planet I’d have to pay a multi-quadrillion woolongs fine by now and Oubaas would be impounded. Here in Cape Town they didn’t even wanna see my driver’s license or any proof of me being indeed the owner of that fokken vehicle. They didn’t check the number plate and not even asked me what my plans are regarding roadworthy and registration of Oubaas and if I intended to pay the long overdue taxes anytime soon. I guess I could go on like this for the next few years, flying underneath the radar. 😉

SA’s finest!

 

 

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