Mthatha admin

Yesterday I went to Mthatha to get the new (and first) Jabulani Foundation vehicle registered in our company name. I took the book ‘Bravo Two Zero’, by Andy McNab with me in case there was any waiting involved. I knew that it was going to be a long day, but as it was a good while since my last admin trip to Mthatha, I was confident of success.

The first thing to do was to collect the mail for three people at Mqanduli Post Office. This was carried out with no problems and I sped onwards. Prior to departure I had already read a good chunk of B20 and I learnt that preparation was everything for a mission to be successful. I had a list and I had checked and re-checked the documents that I needed.

I like the VW Citigolf. It is basically a VW Golf (for the UK folk) with no trims. 1.4l, no power steering, aircon or other dangerous electronic stuff to go wrong. Andy McNab would approve, but he would also probably call me a ‘big bag of bollocks’ as the SAS is prone to involve a lot of abuse of one’s peers. Anyway, it corners better than the big car and it feels like you are going fast all the time.

The next thing was to get the car checked for the insurance company so they knew it existed. I was nothing but charm. Make the personal link as quickly as you can so that they don’t torture you to death (or decide to be unhelpful, in my case). Job done, had a brew (well, a drink of juice).

Next to the Traffic Office for registration. My navigation intelligence had been from Shannon, one of the occupational therapists. She had done a good map and I was in there fast. The queue was pretty long. I spent the time talking to some dudes with great English. They were really helpful to me, so I didn’t shoot them.

When I got to the desk it all went a bit wrong. Two large ladies were firing info at me. I had to register to get a number as an SA driver first. I also needed an affidavit from the lady who sold us the car. The intelligence had been wrong. My mission was foiled. I decided to go and get the car’s ‘roadworthy certificate’ (one requirement that I knew about) so that all would not be lost. The last thing I did was to get a phone number for the office so I could double check details for next time. As I departed, I rang it. It rang out, as had all 3 of the other numbers I have for the office. They were clearly masters of obfuscation. Or some other big word.

I came to a vast, shiny warehouse with a sign on it saying “KSD Vehicle Testing Centre”. The process was to drive to the end of a queue and wait. There were 5 vehicles in front of me. I left enough room in front to maneuver out, as any member of B20 would have. The fat man with pretty good English told me that I was likely to have to wait an hour and a half. Not bad. I settled into the book.

Time passed. 2 hours passed. I realized that, like Andy McNab, there was no point in getting stressed out. I needed to bang some food and water in me, because I did not know when I would be able to do so again. Over 3 hours later I looked the wee man in the face. He was like a Scottish footballer in that he had only 2 teeth and was not very good.

I asked him how much longer it would take. He told me that I would need to come back tomorrow to collect the certificate. I asked why and pleaded with him that he try to do it ASAP. His response was to say that he did not want to commit to anything as he was the only man there working (there were two others). This was when I started to think about what Andy M had said about how to kill a man making minimum noise, but I wasn’t prepared to saw my Leatherman backwards and forwards across his windpipe just yet. I went outside to see fatman as he seemed to be in charge (ie doing nothing). He said that the guy inside was the only man working and that is was not possible. I said that I lived very far away and this meant me losing a whole day. I said the word “hospital”. I said “please, please, please”. He wandered off.

When he walked back past I gave him an eyebrows raised look that asked whether it was going to happen. He gave a small thumbs up. I walked round to see Toothless MacGinty. Toothless was clearly losing his mind. He stuck his tongue out and jerked his head forward as if he was walking like an Egyptian. I said “thank you so much for helping me today”. He stuck his tongue out. He then pissed about printing the form slowly.

The important thing was that I hadn’t shown him how I was really feeling. I was physically tired, but they had not broken me mentally. Andy McNab would appreciate that. When he was getting tortured by Iraqis he went through something similar. We both came through. As I started the engine, Toothless was at the window with his tongue out like a mentalist again. I did the international sign language for YOU ARE MENTAL. He nodded. Back again next week then.