On the drive back from Swaziland, I belatedly realized that there were at least two books set in Swaziland - Richard E Grant's Wah-Wah Diaries (based on the movie), and, of course, King Solomon's Mines by H. Rider Haggard. We'd driven past a pub called Quatermain, which reminded me of Allan Quatermain, which reminded me of the movie King Solomon's Mines...
After we'd crossed the Swazi border post of Ngwenya, we went into the SA border post, Oshoek - greyer and grubbier than Ngwenya. Luckily, we got to the Immigration counter before the lunchtime travellers arrived. A big black woman (BBW) regarded me across the glass partition.
BBW: Where is your permit?
Me: It's in my other passport, which has expired. Here. (I hand over the passport. My visa's linked to a retired person's permit.)
BBW: Are you retired?
Me: (smiling) Do I look retired? No, it's from the spouse - the soon-to-be-ex spouse.
BBW: Why, you getting a divorce?
Me: Yup, for the last three years?
BBW: Why you want to get divorce? It's better to stay with him. Hard to find a man, just stay with him.
Me: (silently: Ok, you're an immigration officer, not a marriage counsellor. And there's a queue growing right behind me. Trust me, you don't want to hear my saga) Men aren't necessary.
BBW: (makes a gesture with her hand) Eesh, how can you say that? Where you going to get this?
Me: (thinking she means money) I work.
BBW: (making gesture again) No, what about this? Where you get this?
Me: (realizing she's made a fist with her thumb protruding between her index and middle fingers) Oh my god! (now mortified at having provided free entertainment to a growing audience) Well, life is like a gas station. Sometimes you have to go for self-service.
BBW: (clearly not impressed) Hmmmm! Is not enough.
Now my friend, stunning, dusky, dewy and exotic - very much the epitome of morena Filipina beauty - let's call her MFB - is waiting with increasing yet good-natured impatience behind me with her kids and maid.
MFB: No one has to stay in a bad marriage.
BBW: Aieeee, but you still need a man. For this (again the rather crude fist)
MFB: In our country men don't beat women!
Me: Yeah, in our country the women beat the men!
BBW laughs and lets us all go.
In the meantime, MFB's maid has fainted on the concrete floor.
By the way, I have no clue how self-service works at the gas station. And that's NOT a metaphor.
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