Confessions by a one-bag woman about dirty hands .

While waiting for the detective and finger print people to arrive, many other matters had to be attended to.
My first priority was getting new cards and cheque books as all my banking facilities had been cancelled since yesterday.

I put together a file with certified copies of my ID document, driver's licence and a few other things.
All of this went into an open basket, since my only, and precious handbag now belongs to somebody else.

Yes, I am a one-handbag woman.

With virtually no cash on me and no means of getting any, I was looking forward to be issued with at least a replacement cheque card in order to get on with daily life.

I was hopeful to have the matters sorted out quickly, but no such luck!

Not even the certified copies of the documents I produced had much effect.

A temporary ID Document from Homes Affairs as well as a sworn statement from the police were required by my trusted and friendly bank.

At the police station, the sworn statement was quickly issued, but at Homes Affairs, it was a different matter.

There the clerk informed me that it was policy that on application of a temporary ID document, application also had to be made for the permanent ID document.

I did not mind about applying then, but primary matter was to get hold of the temporary ID in order to be issued with the much needed bank card, in order to get MONEY, money, money ..

Of course nothing in life is free, and all of this comes with a certain cost.

As it was, I virtually had no cash or any other means of payment available ...

ID photos were (also) required. I started to despair, because of my lack of cash, and in order to get issued with a bank debit card to withdraw cash, I needed this temporary ID ........

It felt like I was starting to go in circles.

On trying to explain why I needed this ID so badly, I was only met with the shrug of shoulders .... rotters!

So, off I went, back to where my car was parked, scrounging around in every nook and cranny, looking for any loose cash lying around. I found a few R2.00 pieces (parking money) and did not know how this was going to help me much....

In the meantime it had started to rain softly, and by the time I entered the photo shop for the ID photos, my documents were soggy, my hair was wet, and my spirits were very very low.

Back at Home Affairs, armed with a little bit of money and the photos that resembled and expressed burdened misery, I went to the next counter where I was duly informed that they could not issue me with a temporary ID, as, according to the laws of the country, my original ID was issued before a certain date and that meant that I did not qualify for a temporary ID ...... at that stage I was contemplating whether I should simply allow myself to expire. (Sorry for this long sentence!)

Talk of red tape! Whatever happened to friendly customer care?

There was about half an hour left before the banks closed, and I still had to have my finger prints processed ...... (I am no criminal, not yet, but in our democracy with the crime rate as is, every citizen must have his/her prints on record - just in case!)

Even though I am (well) known at the bank, not being able to produce this much sought after temporary ID, I was scrutinized with much doubt, far and wide: with direct stares, from over the rims of glasses, and I felt like the biggest fraudster alive.

But all's well that ends well and about half an hour after the bank's doors had closed, I walked out with a spanking new cheque card and it's brand new pin, while feeling content that application had been made for the rest of the cancelled stuff.

Half a minute later, with lovely crunchy new notes in my hands, I looked at the black printer's ink still covering my palms and fingers.

And I felt like saying aloud: Home Affairs, lump it! For now.

But, who knows - I may soon be faced with a new set of challenges!

Roll on Monday! I am ready!