“Are you carrying drugs?” he asked. I was somewhat relieved. Getting questioned by authorities in Zimbabwe, if you’re a foreign visitor, can often involve something more uncomfortable. Secure in the knowledge that I was in fact not here as an international drug smuggler, I nearly smiled as I unlocked my duffel bag for the beady-eyed customs agent.
While I did that, he began rifling through my backpack. “Any pornography here?” he said. “Um, no,” I replied. I began to wonder what kind of reputation Americans had acquired here — or had been assigned by that well known hater of the West, President Robert Mugabe. link