the last roadblock

A roadblock in Biafra:

Kapuscinski chose to drive down a road from which it was said no white man could come back alive. At one roadblock he was stopped and soaked in Benzene. Narrowly escaping immolation, but now without money for bribes, he had little choice but to crash through the next burning blockade at 90mph. He emerged relatively unscathed.

A checkpoint in Angola, from Another Day of Life:

If the sentries are Agostinho Neto's people, who salute each other with the word camarada, we will live. But if they trun out to be Holden Roberto's or Jonas Savimbi's people, who call each other irmao (brother), then we have reached the limit of our earthly existance. In no time they will put us to work - digging our own graves. In front of the old established checkpoints there are little cemetaries of those who had the misfortune to greet the sentries with the wrong word.

Another roadblock, this time in Ghana:

The soldiers searched through my luggage. One of them found Herodotus’ History, and Agatha Christie’s The Mystery of the Blue Train. The soldier looked at both. Was it because Herodotus’ book looked too thick to him, or did the title of The Mystery of the Blue Train sound more attractive? It’s rather hard to decide now. Anyway, after a moment’s hesitation, he requisitioned Christie’s novel, which had the additional appeal of a flashy colourful cover. I heaved a sigh of relief. Herodotus was to stay with me.

Ryszard Kapuscinski has met his last roadblock.