In Transit...

---

This is an apparent context

If you’ve lived or travelled extensively in Africa you’ll be aware of something known as "corruption". It’s as old as the hills - or at least their colonial naming - and therein lays the problem. From the president and his cronies, through the police, all the way down to the lowliest civil servant. Everyone bemoans its existence, yet nobody seems to be willing or able to tackle it. Politicians, of course, are elected on the back of lofty promises to do just that, yet on gaining power, the bad apples are replaced and recycled by a fresh batch, which seem to be sound on the surface.

Gramsci and the backpacker tourist


But this little rant isn’t about corruption; this is about 'power' and my perception of its corrupting influence; and ultimately about my nemesis: The Immigration Official.


And that is just it - there once was a blog here about an altercation I'd had with some border guards who wanted to charge me extra (about $20) for a visa I didn't think I needed. I 'won' out in the end, but

In hindsight the whole thing

Flamingos

seems ridiculous

And so I deleted it. Because I'm still trying to figure out;

What makes the weary traveller lose his cool in the presence of the 'corrupt' immigration officer; and/or vice versa?

---

---