Family Affairs and other matters

The scary bit that I was referring to during our time in Lusaka was to do with the following incident:-

During our drive around the city taking photos of my father’s old houses and my Grandfather’s grave and checking out all his old haunts, we drove past the main entrance of State House, where the current president of Zambia, Rupiah Banda resides. There were some very smart guards, wearing plumed headgear that my father wanted to get a picture of.

On our way back, the soldiers were no longer there, but my father wanted a picture anyway and so I took a photo from the back of our moving car. Thirty seconds later we were rapidly overtaken by three armed soldiers who made us pull over by the side of the road. We nodded at them through the open window.
“YOU IN THE BACK. Your camera has an illegal photograph of our president’s home. THIS IS NOT ALLOWED”.

We are told to get out of the car. They are all wearing uniform and have big guns.
“You have committed an offence against our country. This is extremely serious” said one of the soldiers. “Let me see your camera”.
My father tells me not to let my camera go and so he and I wrestle with the camera and I refuse to let it go.
“It’s not a problem” I told them, “I’ll just delete the photo immediately and everything will be fine”.
“DO NOT DELETE THE PHOTO” one of them shouts. “You must come in our car immediately to see our boss”.
“Don’t get in their car” says my father.
I am beginning to feel very scared.
We refuse to get in their car.

So instead, the younger and more officious soldier of the three climbs in the front of our car and instructs us to get in.

We are then driven to the army barracks to meet with a plain clothed officer who is not at all happy.

The same points are made very loudly, by all four of the men at the same time. My father is grilled about where we are staying and what we are doing there. In our car on the front seat is a weird looking map of the city with red dots all over it that I am worried they might misconstrue. It identifies all his old houses and other landmarks he wants to go and look at. They talk about my picture being passed on to bombers. I am beginning to worry even more.

I am shaking at this point. They want to see our passports. Want our names. Want more details.

It begins to feel somehow more threatening. They don’t seem to want to let the incident pass. Possibly this is due to bored apathy rather than a genuine concern for a major crime committed. We do not know how to play the game. Or indeed if there is a game to play.

They want to take my camera as evidence and I don’t understand why they don’t want me to delete the picture. We don’t seem to be getting very far.
In the end I say “Look guys. I am really, really sorry. It was entirely my fault. I had no idea that I wasn’t allowed to take the picture. But PLEASE don’t take my camera. I’ve just taken pictures of my grandfather’s grave and we’ve come all the way from the UK for these pictures and they’re really important to me”.
They go quiet for a minute and then suddenly everything seems to change. I’m not sure why.

The plain clothed guy says “Oh. Ok. Well then. God Bless You, Sister. We forgive you this time. Delete the photo and we’ll let you go. But please understand the severity of your actions and do not do it again”.

Shit.