After three days in Johannesburg my wife and I set out from Pretoria to drive to the border on our way home. Our borders are dreaded and with good cause, they are crowded, corrupt and disorganized. In addition the Beitbridge border post lies across the Limpopo River and is a hot, dry inhospitable place.
Source: Managing our Borders – The Zimbabwean 05.09.2016
We arrived at 17.30 hrs and after a quick visit to a One Stop on the South African side, we drove into mayhem. We parked our car and then had to discover where to go and what to do in what sequence.
I recalled going through the border from Germany into France by car, we slowed down to about 80 Kmph and as we passed the border post, my driver lazily waved to the guards sitting in a small shelter. “What was that?” I asked, “That is the border between Germany and France”, he said as he accelerated back to speed for our journey to Paris.
The South Africans seem to play a complex game at the border post at Beitbridge; they change the rules without notice and carefully remove all signs that might actually help the traveler. Yesterday was no difference, for no apparent reason we had to walk 300 metres from the car over to the side from which visitors came from Zimbabwe. Then, all mixed up with incoming hordes, we queued for Customs and then Immigration – orderly and patient but with perhaps 500 others all trying to do the same thing.
We arrived at 17.30 hrs and after a quick visit to a One Stop on the South African side, we drove into mayhem. We parked our car and then had to discover where to go and what to do in what sequence.
I recalled going through the border from Germany into France by car, we slowed down to about 80 Kmph and as we passed the border post, my driver lazily waved to the guards sitting in a small shelter. “What was that?” I asked, “That is the border between Germany and France”, he said as he accelerated back to speed for our journey to Paris.
The South Africans seem to play a complex game at the border post at Beitbridge; they change the rules without notice and carefully remove all signs that might actually help the traveler. Yesterday was no difference, for no apparent reason we had to walk 300 metres from the car over to the side from which visitors came from Zimbabwe. Then, all mixed up with incoming hordes, we queued for Customs and then Immigration – orderly and patient but with perhaps 500 others all trying to do the same thing.
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