It is around 10pm and we’ve stopped at Ultra City, a gas station complex near Middelburg en route from Nelspruit to Joburg, for coffee and cigarettes for the men, a Kit Kat for myself. After resting a bit in the Steers adjacent to the gas station, we meander back into the parking lot towards the Pajero which has suffered unbelievably two flat tires at the hands of two fat nails on our trip to Mozambique. As we near the vehicle, a scrawny black man in a blue custodian outfit is sweeping up nearby. His head raises and seeing Tony he asks whether we are going south through the nearby toll station. Yes, Tony answers. “Some electricity shortage up there, the toll station isn’t taking cash, you must get pre-paid ticket here at the gas station.” This
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