Here they are — the wholly unofficial top 10 signs that you are in a banana republic...
A RATHER large Afrikaner of our acquaintance — known affectionately to those of us who like him as "The Big Boer" — has very definite ideas about our continent.
"Look at Africa from the sky at night. There is only darkness. Johannesburg is a glittering jewel. Cross the border and the lights go out. Ja boet."
The last time I drove up to Zimbabwe was in 1984. We crossed Beit Bridge at dawn, to be stopped by a well-wisher before we went through customs on the northern side.
"I overheard a conversation on the South African side," she said. "`These two are journalists -- a koelie and a white woman -- travelling together. What should I do, kaptein?´ `Process them immediately.´ I think they were talking about you."
The Zimbabwe side was a model of military efficiency. Smiling soldiers flanked the road as we drove off towards Masvingo and the ruins of Great Zimbabwe. The Zimbabwe dollar was worth more than the rand. All in all, this was a picture of a nation flushed with pride at the end of a war and at independence.
This time around, we passed though Messina at dusk on a Saturday. Pounding rain reduced visibility to less than 100 metres creating a feel not unlike Jurassic Park. This feeling was augmented by looming truck hulks which would suddenly emerge from the mists only to vanish almost immediately as we swept through the night.
Passport control on the South African side was a quietly efficient process in air-conditioned neon-lit comfort. The great greasy Limpopo was shrouded in a curtain of fog as we crossed the bridge.
And set our clocks back 30 years.
The harsh shadows of orange light bulbs, the clatter of antiquated desk fans, and an abundance of Peugeot 404s held together with spit and chewing gum made my CitiGolf look strangely futuristic.
There was a toll to be paid -- R30. The land of high speed freeways glittered across the river, strangely beckoning. I could feel the longing of the dozens of pedestrians, who stood in line waiting to walk across the bridge, as we rolled out of the customs yard into darkness.
The blackness was unimaginably heavy. Road markings had long vanished and the verges were barely discernible. Five minutes later, the last remnant of the cellphone signal from the South African side vanished. This was no man's land.
Zimbabwe has a lot going for it. The education system is superb with high school pupils writing the British "O" and "A" level examinations. Businessmen are smart, and run slick efficient operations. But there are still those top 10 signs that from the government point of view you are in a banana republic.
10. Every government office has a picture of the president. Robert Mugabe's face gazes pseudo-benevolently over the shoulders of the public service.
9. The president is referred to as "His Excellency". In Mugabe's case, it's "His Excellency the Honourable President of Zimbabwe Cde. Robert Gabriel Mugabe".
8. The president is a septuagenarian who dyes his hair. Perhaps his thirty-something wife Grace doesn't want him to be mistaken for her father.
7. The president routinely commandeers state property for personal use. Twenty-four hour delays are not unknown for Air Zimbabwe passengers because the Honourable Comrade has diverted a scheduled flight to carry him to Cape Town or Cyprus.
6. The media is state-controlled. Both the Zimbabwe Broadcasting Corporation and Zimbabwe Newspapers are government owned.
5. The media constantly reminds the populace how well-off they are. Lead item on the news was how a small village near Bulawayo had managed to combat soil erosion with the help of a Zim $12000 (about R5000) state grant.
4. Visitors are taxed at every opportunity. Hotels (state-owned of course) and public facilities have two rates one for Zimbabweans and one for foreigners. For example, entry to the ruins at Great Zimbabwe costs Zim $5 for natives and US$5 for others. (US$1 = Zim $10.50)
3. Baksheesh oils the wheels. Zimbabwe customs asked for US $100 as a "favour". I gave them R20 and a pack of cigarettes, but couldn't help thinking about the trucks I had seen on the South African side, loaded with late model second-hand cars. How many of them had been stolen? Would it be as easy for them to enter the country with no questions asked?
2. You pay to leave the country. All air travellers pay a US $20 airport departure tax -- in cash. This is over and above taxes already included in the airfare. The road toll for departure is R36.
1. The local currency is a joke. Street vendors preferred used cassette tapes and tee shirts or South African cigarettes to Zimbabwean dollars. The US dollar is the official currency of the business community, given runaway inflation. The rand is prized.
Makes you think, doesn't it?