HoneryCrisp 16 Blushing Golden

Women are using concrete mixture to look beautiful! I heard one saying, I use this foundation on my face! Next they will try limestone!

16. Blushing Golden

Bernard was on the wheel of a registered commercial passenger vehicle. In its home assembly country of Japan, it might have carried six people maximum with loads of luggage. With the efficiency of the Japanese intercity and intra city public transport systems, no commercial passengers were available for such types of vehicles. This type of vehicle had been popularized by the introduction of the VW Kombi in the 1970s as a prime family vehicle to ferry the parents, their children and their pets including family luggage or picnic hampers. As a result all over the country any type of a micro bus was called a kombi. Welcome to Zimbabwe were every mineral drink is called Coca-Cola® and every floor polish is called Cobra®. Every toothpaste is called, you guessed it, Colgate®. Every bar of soap is called, you guessed wrong, a bar of soap! In different configurations, it was made to ferry four people per four rows plus three at the front including the driver. In certain configurations, health services sectors and municipalities used it as an ambulance normally carrying one patient and life support equipment. In breakdown configuration, without wheels, the homeless used such as their bedroom, make up room, smoking and drinking room, sex lounge and toilet at the same time.

He was driving heading up an incline along Arcturus Road. There was a hilly climb almost unnoticeable yet of noticeable gradient. When a vehicle had petrol in “E’ the fuel pump quickly seized. Further on the road was used to link with the north eastern high density sections of Mabvuku and Tafara which were sprawling to the north east to east of the capital city. He was getting away from the Rhodesville shopping complex. New and old residences of different old and new suburbs adorned both sides of the wide road. They were competing in different designs.

None was a matchbox similar to another. Architectural creations provided a view several metres away from the road. Their shapes, accessories like gates or solar panel systems or geysers hung on roofs, looks and size along the road was used to judge every other house within their area. This was a milk run. He had a full load of passengers. The vehicle did not have a space for those standing neither did the law permit. Being with a high roof, profits were maximized at human and mechanical cost.

In the event of an accident, an overloaded vehicle had the propensity to destroy more lives than the same vehicle half loaded in the same accident at the same speed. Experience and history attested to the capitalism exploited by private transport operators and their crews. It was a deadly game with graveyard consequences. It was a cat and mouse game with the police and other law enforcement agencies. Deregulation of the transport sector when state funds had started dwindling had caused the profit motive to go ahead of common sense.

Profit was maximized at the cost of human lives or the vehicle itself. Instead of having 18-passengers and a driver, at one time he had 21. He had pick and drop passengers. Those who negotiated a cheaper fare than was standard could at times stand near the sliding door. Usually they were of short distance duration. These made the money run more nutritious. He turned the passenger vehicle into a road that fed Chikurubi Maximum Prison with Arcturus Road. Vehicles for the cement works drove along it carrying limestone towards their plant near Mabvuku. This is along the busy highway linking Harare and its eastern suburbs. These also including far away rendezvouses like Marondera, Rusape and Mutare with its eastern highlands contingent. This is one of the busiest transport arteries in the city of Harare.

No driver played games like risky over taking with heavy laden articulate trucks. Any argument between a kombi and such a truck was always won by the truck. The truck wheel sizes alone mattered! Their raised steel framed bodies were an unfair wrestling advantage against the smaller kombis. He waited there. Passengers dropped off. On the right was the perimeter fence of the Chikurubi Support Unit police accommodation camp. It had a mixture of old type houses and newer flat blocks to accommodate the police force.

It was ironic that the likes of Bernard and his co drivers have themselves signals to avoid police roadblocks yet here he was to drive about a kilometre with a police residential camp to his east. When the kombi drivers who were doing illicit runs heard of the location of police roadblocks, they used dirt roads to circumnavigate wherever possible. Ill luck was coming out of one such a road like hibernating bear to find police details waiting for you. They also had their own intelligence. Sellouts were everywhere even within the police force as well.

All his passengers except staff disembarked at the gates to Chikurubi Medium-Maximum Prison gates. He drove in further after an armed inspection of his vehicle into the camp proper to pick up prison employees or families before coming back. No director of prisons wanted prisoners hitching a ride on public transport to their freedom. Security checks were done. At the gate, he took his maximum fill with visitors returning from seeing interned relatives.

He came back with a full load. If trailers were allowed to ferry passengers, he would have hitched one. Then they slowed down the quick darting in and out of traffic which was their daily practice. Only coaches ferrying passengers across the borders hitched trailers for luggage. Two were sitting directly opposite his seat on part of the engine covering. When he went into high gear the passengers felt the heat on their sitting apparatus in spite of the padding on top of the engine hood. Besides that the road from Chikurubi Prison to Arcturus Road had tarred sections eaten away by heavy use by delivery trucks. The state of the roads appeared as if there was no authority responsible except those nearest the presidential house and the president’s office. Every bump in the road stretch was over working both the tyres and shock absorbers. He checked for traffic with Chikurubi Camp on the left.

“My friend,” one of the front seat passengers had said. “On this stretch of road before Kamfinsa reduce speed. Also reduce unnecessary overtaking. I was seeing police details coming out of the foliage with radar guns when we headed for the prisoner visits at Chikurubi Prison. They are checking for traffic violations before Harare Drive.

“The police don’t mount roadblocks on the road to the limestone quarries or Chikurubi Medium-Maximum Prison. They know you have too many dirt roads to skirt them. They also don’t like checking out limestone ordinances. Added to which vehicles transporting prisoners are trigger happy when they see ‘fake cops’ mounting ‘fake roadblocks’. They had prison break experiences splashed all over the major film industries.”

“They are my mates. We drink beer and tea together at Jacob Zuma's rural residence at Ikandla. Don’t worry kulu. They don’t stay in one place for very long. They are like snakes hunting vermin. If they remain in one place, they die of hunger and boredom. Predators have to stay on their feet searching for prey otherwise they will die or become the hunted. Their muscles will lose value. They will grow big and edible. There is no hill, knoll or kopje called that of a group of lions, they keep moving. Have you ever heard a place called that of the police except their camp, charge office or PG HQ?”

“If you could just cruise in low gear that would be nice for us sitting on the hood. We were frying up the incline. We might get into town without sitting apparatus. If I had buttered bread in my back pocket, by now it would have become French toast. Don't make us sterile or eunuchs. We are too young to leave the family planning queue.”

“Reduce speed Benny,” his conductor said. “Traffic police normally hide behind obstacles on the other side of the road as advised. Twice they sprang a trap from a parked lorry. We have a full load there is no hurry to reach India after sunset in the Adrian Sea.”

“Don’t stress or worry Gilbert. I am the law today.”

He turned right. Down the road there was a Rifle Range detachment of soldiers under training. They were going up the inclined road towards their camp further past Chikurubi Support Unit police residential camp. They were occupying the side of the road he should be using to overtake. It was difficult to determine whether these were green horns being taken for the pace or seniors going for retraining in line with military readiness. The worst foolish thing in Africa was to seek the ire of armed and uniformed state troopers!

The boys in camouflage did not like questions or lurid jokes. They did not write dockets. They used the butt of their rifles, the back of their hands or their boots very easily. They had a habit of using their hands and boots as hard greeting issues when over excited. When they had no foxholes to take cover, they could use their jackboots over the bodies of prostrate protesters. Their physical training was so hard they gotirritated easily. They then tried all the tactics they learnt on dummies on real people. There was common sense playing with vehicles going to/from the city giving one another chances to pass the detachment without disturbing them. Their mood seemed to depend on what they had been recently smoking. The problem with teams that marched in unison one jackboot at the same time was when they beat up errant driver, they did in unison. They even had the cocky mentality to behave like Roman soldiers on the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. They would demand he tell them who had slapped them in the face including force number, rank and detachment commander.

They did not like taking perfumes into their nostrils hence to their lungs. They normally liked cigarettes with a little bit of energy for some of them. Since they didn’t drink in uniform for security and disciplinary reasons, they were accused of settling beer den issues later, coming homing in like a swarm of bees, in groups. Woe betide their opponents! They played soccer with beer patrons’ sitting apparatus. Their rifle butts were used in place of tennis rackets. The reason why these boys were edgy may be the threat of life at training and in deployments to combact zones. After all, the detachment had warning flags front and rear which made it a criminal offense to process ignorance.

Bernard did not wait for a chance. He gunned the kombi passing two vehicles swinging to the far right to allow a private vehicle to pass with him. He yanked the wheel back into the tarmac going past the detachment swinging back to the correct lane. The engine screamed down the incline diesel injection pistons and fuel were working in overdrive over a short distance. There was a vehicle which stopped because of his driving. The vehicle blew its hooter flashing its lights. The driver turned to the verge of the road as if he was seeing a presidential motorcade. He honked his horn again rising his fist. That definitely meant it wasn’t an African presidential motorcade passing by. Doping that would enlist some brutal reorientation and reeducation by politicized and immune from prosecution security staff in Africa.

“Be wise! Can’t wait the whole day for you, grandmother of my male cousin!”

"Bennie-Man! Reduce speed, don't overtake," Gilbert shouted uncomfortably. “This is a short ride with the first passenger getting off at Kamfinsa shopping centre. What is the hurry? The gunners in their field uniforms are very jittery these days. I don’t want jackboots in my under carriage.”

Gilbert might have been better off talking to a rock than Bernard. There was a problem with most passenger vehicle drivers working in the private sector. They seemed to be in a hurry driving into the city. They began to hurry to drive out as if Mount Nyiragongo had started erupting at town house. One was hard put to think private kombi operators hired drivers who had tried to be dons of the racing speedways. The council then vetoed their selection by sluggish repair work on pot holes and road abrasions. Bernard gunned the vehicle forcing another one coming towards him to reduce speed and flash lights. From the side of the stopping vehicle which he intended passing emerged a uniformed lady traffic police office swinging her hands to stop. Any other time Bernard would have liked her contact details. She had hips and a rear view that were appealing to his male senses. Her bust was projecting like lemonade to a dry mouthed athlete. It was a scintillating temptation! She fled for safety blowing her whistle flaying her arms. Those thick legs could move!

“Your friends as you aptly put it. The mother of all grandmothers,” the passenger who had warned him responded. "You might as well drive in the middle of the road like Robert Mugabe and the wailing wailers. Today we have presidential traffic escort. We are not stopping at roadblocks, traffic lights or on speed humps. Let me tell the military and police that I am the deputy shadow minister of transport in the opposition party."

“Eish, the speed and swings is not kosher for our lives. Remember you are carrying passengers not choice potatoes from Honde bound for Mbare," suggested one passenger. “Don’t you feel sorry for the groaning engine? You could hear the gears whining in protest.”

He shot past. He heard a siren behind him. He reduced speed turning to the road verge. Where had the vehicle appeared from? In front of him from the other side an armed policeman was stopping vehicle coming from the city holding his rifle high above his waist flagging him down. He was crossing into his lane as the vehicles headed the request of the armed police officer. Humans are a funny specie. No one wants to go to heaven early. They all try as much as possible to avoid the mortician, the hearse and the undertaker.

“F&^%$,” he commented.

“Hey there are ladies in here ______ mind your language,” protested a female member of the human species. She made known the presence of the specie in the commuter vehicle. “What has ~!@#$%^_^&*_*() got to do with your reckless driving? How were you born if not through that? Do you see ladies as refuse bins? Do you have a mother and a grandmother or worse sisters?”

“Your language Bernie man is a mockery to my sisters here. There is a rifleman in front of us to the left too. You ought to reduce speed. Your friend does not like these bursts of speed. They are meant for Kayalami or Mabvuku's Donnybrook motor racing speedway.”

“Bernie, you blew it,” Gilbert said. “There is a guy with a camera behind us. Besides which you were told to take it easy. Watch right in front of you about a hundred metres what looks like a bush are three members of the military training team. Had the police not flogged you down, these were going to create mince-meat out of us. I don't like jack boots on sitting apparatus.”

A motor bike parked in front of his vehicle. The policeman behind the rider made an indication that he should leave the road entirely. The detachment of soldiers did not lose step. Only their superiors stopped for a moment talking to the police. Their fingers indicated had it been them, they would have shot out the tyres before decapitating the driver. They would normally serve their sense of humourby asking the passengers to sit on the tarmac in exactly the same way they had been sitting in the kombi. They started trotting off after their charges. The police were far better to deal with than irate soldiers.

“What type of driving was that?” asked the police officer.

“Speed officer, pressed for time. The boss is breathing fire. I have to meet the daily target.”

“You are sure you are carrying cement and maize seed on the gravel road towards the dip tank deep in the sticks not a major highway instead of human lives? You are endangering the lives of passengers in order to increase the profit margin. You want to knock out the detachment of soldiers and other vehicles as well for what? Profit?”

One of the officers went around the vehicle pointing with an index finger counting passengers.

“He is oversubscribed. Including the driver and conductor, this vehicle licensed to carry 16 passengers is carrying 22-passengers.“

“Bro, you know it happens,” Bernard said.

“License! Defensive driving certificate.” The male police officer yanked the key out of the vehicle. “Conductor, refund the passengers you are not going anywhere fast enough today. Bring out the root and vehicle inspection permits. Check the certificate of fitness for the vehicle and owner’s particulars.”

Bernard searched around. He could not find his licence worse defensive driving certificate. It was at such times that one forgot even their identity card numbers off head. It was like being asked the number of trees before the dip tank while carrying a load of cement in ascotch cart operated by domestic animals. A defensive driving certificate was like a master’s degree program. It required a pass at degree level without which there was no entry. It was an exclusive club for drivers.

By the end of thirty minutes the passengers had been picked up by other kombis. Gilbert went muttering under his breath making sure commuter vehicles with space could take his fares on board. It was an exercise he didn’t like. No sane commuter driver wanted to stop were armed police officers were milling around. Gilbert also had to agree on a negotiated cash settlement on the number of passengers taken on board. It took about four to five vehicles to reduce his passenger load. He had to take the flak of over excited passengers whose blood sugars had gone up.

At the end he boarded another kombi with the last lot. He took with him the reckless driving and overloading tickets issued by the police. The owner would need them to retrieve his vehicle from the impounded lot. He also faced a charge of engendering passengers. He would be accused of allowing an unlicenced driver to take charge. His only defence would be the charge should fall on the original driver. Thomas had made his own arrangements. Those arrangements would cost the owner though. The point of discussion was what had transpired as his fellow conductor and driver wanted to know. The passengers chirped in especially7 those that had been with him.

Bernard was left behind. He was not lonely. He was surrounded by police officer regularly checking vehicles for worthiness and current licenses. He sat in a police vehicle with the hands behind his back wearing an old pair of handcuffs. He did not need worry if his trousers were sagging. Where he was bound, they only gave one set of trousers or short for that matter.

In certain seasons the church allocated tasks to the youths and other ministries were volunteers had time and space. Keisha had volunteered having been endowed with a vehicle by another church member to use for spiritual tasks. She had taken a team doing certain tasks out of Hatfield. Today they had arrived at Chikurubi Medium-Maxi8mum security prison with her delegation. Keisha did prison fellowship with her church youth members in the company of the department charged with the fellowship of prisons and hospitals. They had split into two mixed groups after entering the Chikurubi Maximum Prison complex.

Half the girls had gone to the men’s section with half the boys going to the female section too. They did not go into the sleeping quarters after all to see prisoners in birthday suits. It was important to offer prayers, devotionals, and encouragements before and after meeting inmates. Jail was a place where the spirit sunk to its lowest ebb. The other option of the ministry, hospital was were the spirit might be in waters churning for its return to the maker. Both were important ministries to provide guidance and lift spirits. Life is like chess, you never know the next move. Not everyone in jail or hospital deserved to be written off. They were human beings with life in them.

They comforted and talked to the prisoners about the word of God. The prisoners and their wardens were on one side of a fence while they were on the other. Goods exchanged from the free to the prisoners were recorded. She and her team were standing up giving visiting relatives first places to sit down. Prisoners were coming and going. The wardens were calling names in, noting time and calling names out when time was up. She saw someone in prison garb come to sit down like all were doing in neat lines of prisoners one side and visitors the other. She waited until his visitor had stood up.

“Bernard?” she asked.

“Ah Keisha,” he had turned around to look at her. “Sorry my time is up.”

In a matter of seconds Bernard aged. It was like a girl besotted with love whose only boyfriend is caught red handed breaking into a house. How embarrassing! He seemed to sag with his composure changing. Had he been a female, he would have cried. Men did not cry easily in public, what with about fifteen people watching. Keisha in her turn was as equally shocked. She least expected to see Bernard here. Men hurt inside and waited for the pain to ease.

“Whatever happened to you?”

“It is a long story,” he had shuffled away. “My time is up I could have talked to you Keisha.”

“He was caught over speeding, overloaded and driving on the wrong side of the road in front of two on coming vehicles with the police and military as eye witnesses. Added to which he is not licensed to drive even a car,” the male relative who had been seeing him had said. “The magistrate gave him four months indoors for all the counts with three suspended for a year and a half after he comes out. That is if he stays away from beer, women, soccer and horse betting and fast vehicles again.”

“I remember him briefly from church. He came for a while, some months, before he disappeared. His cell phone was rejecting calls or messages. The youth group follow up teams had no idea he was inside police cells otherwise they would have followed him here. The address he had given was nonexistent in Mbare. I don’t know why he gave a false home address.”

“I would have hoped the spirit of recklessness would have been exorcised from him. He has a problem with being reckless in everything. Previously, he got involved with a single mother. She claims he is the father of her second child. He has a court appearance scheduled because of that woman and her baby. At his age! I pray the time he spends indoors he will have reformed. He lives with me his paternal uncle in Glen View 1 not Mbare!”

© Copyright tmagorimbo July 2017