Short Story – International Borders & Policemen

One Man's Opinion


“The taxi  arrives at the border post. The bridge of the late visa is now here, I must cross it. I check what Meticais I have left and buy two Pao fish sandwiches and a Coke. One of my strange classrooms taught me: “Eat when you can.” I eat one and keep the other. If things go pear shaped I will be in a Mozambique jail soon. I swap my last Meticais and get R20. This I hide.  The customs people are not happy about my month late visa; I spin a yarn that I was ill and could not get to the border on time. They want a doctor’s note! Not one of them can speak English very well; I am going from person to person, each time the rank is up. It is actually quite funny. This plan will not work. They tell me that I have to…

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