The Scarlet "L"

I had a hard time picking a name for this blog post.  A few other options were “Encounters with Corruption,”  “Most frustrating experience of my life,”  “Little Red Monster,” and “Driving failure.”  Suffice it to say that a long run at sunset and a few words with God injected enough humility in me to see the whole picture of the story I’m about to tell.

When I first came to Zambia the discussion about me getting my Zambian driver’s license surfaced, however was interrupted with my extended illness and resulting absence from the country.  The need for me to get my license was never urgent- Mike did all the driving for our missionary trio, Cindy wasn’t licensed either, and public transport is easy enough that when I needed to travel alone I could take a bus and taxis to get where I was going. 

After the Helvie’s left, it became a sudden necessity for me to get my license.  Sounds a whole lot easier said than done. 

The first hurdle I had to cross was learning how to drive manually.  On the right side of the vehicle.  On the left side of the road.  Selinda, one of my fellow Global Partners missionaries, graciously took the time to teach me.  She was an extremely patient and encouraging instructor and I am so grateful for her help.   Out on some dirt roads in the bush I learned how to shift gears, start and stop on hills, and come to emergency stops when Selinda would shout “COW!!!”  (This involved a lot of strange looks by the locals… two white girls driving back and forth in the bush… we were quite the sight!) By the end of a few lessons, we both felt fairly confident that I was getting the hang of it.  So the time came to begin the process of getting my license.

Selinda warned me that the process, like most “processes” in Zambia, would be frustrating and require many trips to the closest Road Traffic and Safety Authority (RTSA- Affectionately pronounced RAT-SAH).  Fair warning.  However, neither of us could possibly foresee the headaches to come.

Friday, January 18th – 1^st trip to RTSA.  (3hours round trip, 120KM, $46)

We pull into the gated compound of the RTSA office to a parking lot scattered with various damaged trucks and vehicles and no clear markings to know where to park.  We choose a spot, and I walk over to the RTSA building.  There are two doors.  The first door is overflowing with people waiting in “line” (more like a blob).  I choose to go to door #2 where there are a few men working at a desk.  The desk is piled high with paperwork and an ancient desktop computer (you know, with the giant monitors… remember those?!) 

Me “Hi, how are you?” 

RTSA man “Fine and you madam?”

Me “Fine, I need to take my oral examination to get my driving permit.” 

RTSA man “You mean the theory test?”

Me “Yes”

RTSA man “We only do those on Mondays and Tuesdays.”

Me “Oh… Is there anything I can do today to begin the process? I live far away and it is difficult for me to come.”

RTSA man “Sure.  You will need to begin some paperwork.  Go to the first window in the next office.  Also, you will need one of these Highway Code books to study.  You can’t pass the test without studying it”

Me “ok, how much does it cost?”

RTSA man “It costs 10 Kwacha.  ($2)  But for you, you can have it for free.”

Me “Thank you!”

After a few more polite words I head to the other office where the mob is emerging.  It only takes me a few minutes to realize that almost every person in the mob is a taxi driver who is taking care of various paperwork.  They are all men, and all in their 20s-30s.  In other words, I stick out. (more than usual)  I make my way into what seems to be the correct line, and put on my “patient” cap for the wait that ensues.  The “patient cap” gets shoved off a few times when the taxi drivers push past me to cut in front of me.  After what was probably only 15 minutes I’m at the counter. 

There are three separate booths with employees and computers at them, protected by a wall of plexi-glass.  There is only a slot at the bottom of the plexi glass to pass papers, no hole to communicate with the person behind the scratched plastic.  So after some shouting, I manage to communicate with the lady and she finds me one form for personal information then sets out on a mission to find the “medical clearance” form. 

RTSA lady “I’m sorry, but we are all out of the Medical clearance form.”

Me “oh… so what do I do?”
RTSA lady “You can try at the Choma Hospital.  They should have them there.”

She points to a sign on the wall that tells me the days and times for the theory test.

In the next few weeks I spent some time reviewing what was written in the “Highway Code” book. I had several moments of laughter when I read road rules about ox-carts and wheelbarrows, situations you could only find in a place like Zambia.  I also had several more laughs when I reviewed the hundreds of road signs listed in the book- probably only about 10% of these signs can actually be found in Zambia. 

Monday February 4^th (2^nd trip) (3hrs, 120KM, $46)

The first thing I needed to do this time in Choma was receive medical clearance so that I could get my permit.  I went to the doctor’s office which we have used regularly for malaria concerns, the same office where I was misdiagnosed regularly.  They took the RTSA form for me and began an extensive physical exam which included weight, blood pressure, height, tests for color blindness, eye-exam for reading from a distance, questions about drugs and alcohol etc… I was then charged K100 ($20) for the doctor to sign the form giving me clearance to drive.

After this I made my way back to the RTSA office where I waited to take the exam.  Selinda had told me that the theory test was a simple oral exam where they only asked you a few questions and then you’d be good to go.  Well it quickly became apparent that my short oral exam was actually going to be a long written test.  

Crammed into a small room with 3 other test-takers, computers, chairs, cabinets, a mini-fridge, and a copy machine, I was given a 4 page written exam.  Within a half-hour I had answered MOST of the questions to the best of my ability.  I felt pretty good that I got about 80% of the test correct, which seemed pretty good to me seeing as how I hadn't been prepared for such an extensive test.

The other gentlemen in the room were scrambling between the pages of their Highway Code book, copying answers.  Cheating.  We were completely unsupervised.  Not gonna lie, I felt pretty tempted to do the same… but decided to have some honesty and dignity about the situation.  They were surprised when I climbed over their laps to leave the crammed room to see that I had finished so quickly, and didn’t even cheat!

I leave the room, wait in a line not so patiently, and find the person behind the plexi-glass, sound proof wall that I’m supposed to give my test to:

RTSA man: You’re done already?!

Me: Yes.  What do I need to do next?

RTSA man: You need to come back in a week to get your test score.

Me: Can you please grade it now?  I live very far away and a trip just to pick up the score would be very expensive and difficult.

RTSA Man: No, that is not possible.

Me: Ok… can I schedule my road test?

RTSA man: No, you cannot schedule your road test without your test scores. How do I know you haven’t failed?
(At this point, both of our temperatures and voices were rising.)

Me: Please you can just look at my test, you can see that I’ve written the correct answers.

RTSA man: No, that is not possible. (obviously irritated with me)

Me: I’m not trying to be difficult, I just don’t want to have to come back simply to pick up my test scores.

RTSA man: NO YOU JUST WANT TO ARGUE WITH ME.

I honestly don’t remember the exact words of the rest of the conversation, but I know it ended with me huffing away angry and irritated. 

Thursday,February 14th (3^rd Trip) (3 hrs, 120km, $46)

Doing what I was told, I took another trip to Choma simply to pick up my test scores from the RTSA office.  Walking into the office I do the usual navigating to figure out who is the right person I need to talk to.  Finally I find a man who pulls out a large ledger book.  He writes my name on a slip of paper along with the number “30”

Me: What does this mean?

RTSA man:  It means you got a 30%.  You failed.  You need to take the test again.

Me: (Heart drops into my stomach, blood starts boiling, steam starts coming out my ears) There is NO way I got a 30%.

RTSA man: That’s what this says.  You’ve failed.

(I glance at the ledger page and see that my fellow test takers, who cheated, have passed with flying colors.  I am certain that the man who I argued with failed me out of spite.)

Me: I want to see my test. I want to know what I got wrong.

RTSA man: That is not possible.

Me: What do you mean it’s not possible- it is MY TEST.

RTSA man: It’s not possible.

Me: So in other words you threw it away, and I have no way to know what I got wrong? (OR RIGHT!)

RTSA man: It’s not possible. Unless you speak to the manager.

Me: Fine. Yes.  I’ll speak to the manager.  Where is he?

RTSA man: He’s busy.

Me: Fine. I’ll wait. 

I sit down in the chair right next to him, cross my arms, cross my legs and put on my best “I’m angry” face.  I believe the correct word is “fuming”. After a few minutes the manager, who was in the next room actually listening to our heated conversation, comes out.

Manager: What is the problem?

Me: They say I’ve failed my test. There is no way I got a 30%.  YOU KNOW I did not get a 30%.

Manager: You took the test?

Me: Yes, and they say that I’ve failed.  There is NO WAY that I got a 30%. I’ve been driving in America for 9 years. This is ridiculous.

Manager: You have an American license?
Me: Yes. (pulling out my license)

Manager: Alright, come with me.

After a miracle of a conversation, a few bits of paperwork, and K62.25 ($11.92) later, I finally have my Zambian Driving PERMIT.   

Me: Can I schedule my road test now?

Manager: No, you need to come back on Monday to schedule.

Me: Please, I live very far away. I can’t just come back to schedule an appointment.

Manager: sorry, but we can’t do that. Your permit needs time to mature.  (In other words, no good reason at all)

Not wanting to push my luck, I give in to this ridiculous requirement and leave, thankful to at least have my permit. 

Monday February 18th (4^th trip) (3 hrs, 120KM, $46)

                After giving my permit four days to “mature” I return to RTSA to schedule my road test.  Without too terribly long of an impatient wait in lines getting shoved around by my taxi-driving friends, K42.80 ($8.23) and 20 minutes later I leave the office happily scheduled to take my official road test on March 1^st  at 11:00AM. 

Friday March 1^st (5^th trip) (3 hrs, 120km, $46)

          Pulling into the parking lot, I jokingly said, “Back to my favorite place in Zambia!” I arrived at RTSA early, around 10:00AM.  There was NO way I was going to be considered late for my test.  I was thankful that I arrived early because the long line of taxi-drivers was exceptionally long today and it again took some time for me to navigate who it was I was supposed to talk to.

                Finally, a man with a neon yellow RTSA vest on, about 5’5” and weighing no more than I do, came out to begin our tests.  He takes my papers and compares it with his schedule book.

Tiny RTSA man: “You’re not in my schedule book, you will need to come back another time.”

Me: What do you mean I’m not scheduled, I came here two weeks ago to schedule. You can see right here on my papers that I’m scheduled for today at 11:00AM

Tiny RTSA man: It doesn’t matter. If you’re not written in my book, then you’re not in my schedule and I don’t have time to test you. You will need to come back another time.  Let me write you into another day.
Me: (Once again fuming) There is NO way I’m coming back.  I live very far away and it is very expensive for me to travel here.  I did EVERYTHING I was told to do. I scheduled my test TWO weeks ago.  Just because someone in your office made a mistake doesn’t mean I should have to leave.

 

People were gathering around us observing the obvious evidence that I had in fact been scheduled…

Tiny RTSA man: Sorry, but maybe you can wait and if someone doesn’t come then I can test you.

Me: So I need to wait all day for you to have free time, even though I came on time for MY TEST.

Tiny RTSA man: Sorry, but that is all I can do.

Me: Fine. I’ll wait.

Storming away, with many eyes following me, I loudly tell my fellow missionaries the terrible news that we would be waiting around all day for the slight possibility of taking a test.  It took a little while for my blood to cool down, but I finally calmed down enough to return to wait at the office where I would be in plain view of Mr. Tiny RTSA man so he would know that I was in fact waiting for him.  I waited in the 100+F heat for 2.5 hours, watching Mr. Tiny RTSA man come and go with other test subjects, and also watched him do a few vehicle inspections.  For each test subject he took on the road, he posted a giant red “L” to their front and back bumper to indicate they were “Learners”.  After watching him awhile I started to pity him.  He was doing the job of about 5 people, and as far as I could tell there were only 2 other RTSA employees at the office processing paper. 

At his lunch break, we decided it would be good for us to get food too. We drove out of the parking lot behind him and down through town… I counted at least 3 driving errors that he made in the short time we followed him. 

I had peeked in his notebook to see that his next scheduled appointment was at 2:30, so I rushed our meal to make sure we were back by 2:00.  Maybe if we got back before his appointment, he would let me take the test. 

Back at the RTSA office at 2:00 I notice his vehicle had returned; a little glimmer of hope.  I walk into the other office and ask if he has returned, and decide to wait right there with the other employees.  The men communicate with Tiny RTSA man in the other room in Tonga.  I know enough Tonga to know that they said, “The white girl has come.”  He calls me into the other room and instructs me to put the Red “L” signs on my vehicle- he would test me in just a few minutes!

HOORAYY! Answer to prayer.  A few minutes wait later and we begin our test.  I try to be as polite as possible, and drive as carefully as possible while he instructs me which way to go etc. He takes me over a railroad track, tests me starting and stopping on a hill, then to some back roads of Choma. He answered his cell phone a total of 3 times while he was testing me.

RTSA Man: Please make a U-turn, we are going to return back to the station.

Me: I’m sorry but I can’t make a U-Turn the road isn’t wide enough.

RTSA man: You need to turn around, we are going back.

Me: Ok, do you want me to pull into a drive way or do a k-turn?  I don’t understand what you’re asking me to do.

RTSA man: Its part of the test.  We are turning around now.

Confused by his cryptic words I safely pull into a driveway, stop, look both ways, not a vehicle in sight because it’s a back road, and reverse out into the road.

Back to the station he brings me to his office to give me the results.  I felt pretty confident about it, the only thing I knew I had done wrong was I stalled once, but quickly recovered. (Still not fully confident with manual, I was just happy it was the first time I stalled all day!)

 RTSA man: You have failed.

Me: (heart sinking) I did?!

RTSA man: Yes.  The first thing I always test for is whether or not the driver checks the engine.  See this list here, it is a list of all the things you must check before driving.  A good driver would check all of these things.  (The list includes everything from oil levels, water levels, battery, lights, horn, and tire nuts etc.)

Me: Oh.  (Do you think I would have driven the 1.5 hours here if I thought my vehicle wasn’t in shape?!)

RTSA man: The other mistake you made was that you reversed into a main road.

Me: What?! (I’ve been driving for 9 years and have never been the cause of an accident!)

RTSA man: The Highway Code says very clearly that it is not safe to reverse into a main road. (Points it out in the book) 

Me: You mean that back road where you had me turn around?  That was a MAIN road?! There wasn’t any traffic coming at all. (AND in ten more feet, the road turns into a DIRT road!)

RTSA man: It doesn’t matter. It’s not safe.

Me: *Nodding my head, biting my tongue*(The entire main street of Choma is lined with about 40 perpendicular parking spots.  It is impossible to park in Choma without reversing dangerously into oncoming traffic.)

RTSA man: I didn’t take off any points for your stalling.  Other than those things, your driving was perfect. (He says with a knowing smile) You will need to schedule another test for another day.

Me: (Do I give in and give him a bribe or do I stay honest and not give into corruption…)

Choosing the high road, another K42.80 ($8.23) later, and I am now schedule to Re-Test on March 22^nd. 

My students who were traveling with me, after hearing the story, all agreed that he was just anticipating a bribe. 

The Scarlet “L”

This experience of getting my license has been immensely frustrating.  And long.  And I can’t believe it still isn’t over.  Throughout this process I have seen the ugliest side of myself: the angry, irritable, entitled, pushy, impatient, little red monster side.  Perhaps it is justified anger and frustration.  However, the entitled “get-it-done” American in me, isn’t going to have any positive influence with the slow, non-confrontational, relationship-focused Africans I am interacting with if I am pushy and bossy and angry and... need I go on?  The Lord called me to love and serve in Zambia.  He called me to be a witness here.  And you can guarantee that every person I interact with KNOWS I am with a church ministry.  What kind of a witness am I being to Mr. RTSA man?  Somehow, the entitled American attitude needs to be pushed aside and stifled so that Christ’s love is reflected to the person in front of me.

After each of these frustrating experiences I have felt embarrassed.  I've felt rude and mean and like the worst missionary EVER.  All eyes are on me.  And what did they see? I’m pretty certain they saw someone careening through life without giving any kind of care or concern for the people she bulldozes.  (I can only HOPE this is an exaggeration of what they felt… but maybe not!)

I’ve decided that what I need is one of those giant scarlet “L” posters hanging on my front and backside.  That way everyone who sees me coming or going knows that I’m a “Learner,” guaranteed to make mistakes… but hopefully with the ultimate outcome of learning something. 

Somewhere on the other side of this lesson is a stronger, less ugly Lauren… Lord help me to choose to persevere.  Help me to love and forgive and hope.  AND PLEASE, Please Lord, help me to finally get my driving license!!!