At 9.50 this morning I was stopped at a police roadblock just before the service station near Harare International Airport. The roadblock was manned by three police persons, two women and one man. The male police officer was in visible possession of a ticket book. When I pulled over, the police officer asked me for my driver’s license, which I gave him. He then inspected my car and demanded that I pay a spot fine of $20 for failing to display a third license plate on my car.

I’ve watched several episodes of Dr. Phil when he counsels people with anger problems. He always asks the person involved to identify their anger trigger. I don’t think I have an anger problem, but I’ve discovered that at police roadblocks I have a trigger. It’s when the officers threaten to impound my car, or arrest me because I have stated that I do not have the fine amount demanded and have politely asked for a ticket. I have yet to meet a traffic policeman who does not issue these threats. And I’ve been detained at many roadblocks. My trigger is that the ticket is a last resort for the police, when it should have been the first. What makes me even angrier is when upon learning that I don’t have cash on me, the officer arrogantly informs me that I do in fact have a boyfriend/husband/relative/ or other who can and will bring the money necessary. ‘Make a call’ he says. As though he himself has spoken to that mysterious other person and knows they will come running to pay him the fine money.

I used to yell at police officers that they were not privy to the affairs of my household and should not presume to know so. I used to tell them that they had no right to demand immediate payment, and that in fact it was illegal. I used to demand the officer’s force number for my records, whereupon they would leave me, I assume, to calm down a bit. I used to yell so much, that I, a light-brown skinned woman would get very pink in the face from pure, unadulterated rage.

I’ve stopped yelling. I’m polite but firm. I can keep calm now because I already know the steps in the dance. He will demand money; I’ll ask for a ticket.  He will threaten me and then detain me hoping that I’ll be in enough of a hurry to be coerced into paying. It’s a tactic that I’m certain must work in a busy Zimbabwe. I will not be forced into paying a fine when a police officer is unwilling to issue a ticket. Like George W Bush, I’ve declared my own ‘war on terror’.

One of the main reasons why Hitler lost to Stalin on the Eastern Front in World War Two was because of the German Army’s poor supply lines. This was then exploited by the Russians who used a scorched earth policy most effectively against the Germans. My war is primarily psychological, but from this example it’s obvious that supplies are integral to success. Therefore, as Sun Tzu advises, I shall secure my supplies in case of extended siege. I’m creating a roadblock kit to keep in my car. It will include water, because sitting in Zimbabwe in summer in a parked car is like choosing to live in an oven; chocolate for that instant sugar hit that will make everything a little better (maintaining morale is crucial to any war); nuts for long lasting energy to survive the roadblock; a book to pass the time; and enough data and battery on my phone to document these acts of terrorism.

This entry was posted on February 23rd, 2012 at 1:57 pm by Upenyu Makoni-Muchemwa and is filed under Activism, Governance, Reflections, Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.