The Tourist

The flight from New Zealand to Cape Town lasted several hours and my 7-year-young son, Croydon, and myself, were both excited and anxious. I had heard hair-raising tales about violence against tourists. Still, we were prepared to take our chances and make every second count by being positive. I made it a resolution not to watch South African newscasts, or buy a newspaper.  We wanted to see the merry side, and Croydon started the ball rolling. The burly man at customs glared at us through hostile brown eyes.

"Is there foodstuff in your luggage?' He asked. 

'No, sir.' I replied.

'State the purpose of your visit.'

'We're here as tourists.'

'Where will you be staying?'

'At my sister's house. Bellville.'

'Where do you live in New Zealand?'

'Heelem, South Island.'

'What's the address?'

'64 Range Avenue, Heelem.'

Croydon interrupted me with a tug.  I glanced at him and he smiled, saying, 'Dad, give the man directions, perhaps he wants to know how to get there.'

By the look on the official's face I thought we would be placed under arrest.  Then he smiled at Croydon, stamped our visas and passports and sent us on our way. 'Enjoy the stay, sir.'

Louis Harris

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Name	Comment	Date
James	Irony and innocence that only the young can produce. Nice work. Not many stories of 200 words can achieve the double layer of the obvious humour and the underlying irony. Points 4 - Pretty close to perfect. I was captivated	2008-02-03
Mandy	Kids can land you in the dwang sometimes! Well done Points 4 - Pretty close to perfect. I was captivated	2008-02-04
Ginny Swart	Lovely! And I’m so glad the customs fellow cracked a smile at last. Points 3 - Very promising piece of writing	2008-02-08
Ron	A beaut! And exactly 200 words. I’d love the directions too. Points 4 - Pretty close to perfect. I was captivated	2008-02-19