Licensed to Drive

In late December 2011, my Alberta driver’s license went missing.  Being in Lesotho, stopping in at the local Alberta licensing centre to obtain a replacement was not going to be a viable option. 

It was two days before we left on a trip to South Africa.  Wendy, not wanting to risk me experiencing the inside of the South African traffic violation system, banned me to the back seat while she and Dylan, who was here at the time, took over the driving duties.  Once back in Lesotho, it was a stroll down to the local Lesotho Mounted Police Service detachment.  I explained my situation, reporting that my wallet had gone missing.  The interviewing officer took my statement, and then on the bottom of a sheet of paper wrote out my investigation number, stamped it with the detachment stamp, tore it off and handed it to me. 

"If you get stopped just show the paper and your passport to the officer," I was instructed.  I had a temporary driver’ license.  I was informed it was good for a few weeks, and was given a few broad suggestions on how to obtain something more permanent.

Yikes, what now!  Would I have to apply as a learner and go through the Lesotho licensing process to get back on the road.  My temporary license was good for Lesotho, for a few weeks, but what if I needed to go to South Africa.  Off to the licencing office I went and waded through the inevitable queues.  The supervisor listened to my story and shook his head.  I did not want to go through the apparently long and wearisome Lesotho licencing process he assured me.  Just get something, anything, from back home that confirmed I was a licensed driver he suggested.  Maybe then something could be done.

The joys of the Internet!  And the ability to scan documents.  Between my brother in Alberta, staff at his local Alberta licensing centre, and the Internet, I was able to print off a copy of my driver’s abstract.  Then it was a few more trips to the Lesotho licensing office where my abstract was perused by a number of officials.

“It doesn’t have an original office stamp.” 

“Hard to get over the Internet,” I explained. 

“Go see the Superintendent of Traffic,” I was directed. 

“No original office stamp,” I was informed. 

“Yes, ... the Internet you know.”

But favour was with me through out the process.  The Superintendent waived the official stamp and stamped my abstract with her own stamp.  The less than helpful clerk muttered and mumbled, but accepted her stamp.  My picture was taken, thumbprint printed, signature signed, and within another week I had what will be a special souvenir to bring home from Lesotho.

Oh, and my temporary license:  I was stopped at more road checks during those few weeks, than in all of the previous year.  On one trip alone we went through five check stops.  Those for which Dylan was driving he was waved through.  Those for which I was driving ... it was produce my scrap of paper.  During the four weeks, only one officer questioned my scrap, and that was because after two weeks why did I still not have my replacement.

Licensed to drive.

~ Benno ~