The dark and dingy corridors of the Wynberg Magistrate’s Court

So I got my first traffic fine, not that it was my fault mind you, and decided that I would have it reduced because I just don’t have R500 laying around. First, I had to go to the police station and sign an affidavit to state that I am a student then off I went to Wynberg Magistrate’s court.

I waited in a queue just to get into the building after which I was faced with four security guards behind one of those walk-through security gates, like the ones at the airport. A female security approached to “scan” me with that funny-looking bat. Next I had to go to the third floor to have my fine reduced at the “Traffic court”. The elevator was large and cold, filled with these mysterious characters. Up to the third floor I went and entered a foyer area. The entire building, no matter where you went, had this desolate eerie atmosphere. I suppose it’s meant to scare people off from becoming criminal offenders; well it worked I tell you.  I then proceeded to the “Traffic court”, I laughed inside every time I saw that sign, which was a small room filled with benches and what looked like a make-shift Judge’s bench. The room seemed empty even though there were at least ten other “offenders” siting there. We waited anxiously for the prosecutor to call us forward and explain our story. He was a robust old man with glasses that sat on the tip of his nose. Eventually I was called, I told him I’m a student and that I could not afford the fine, so he reduced it to R250 and sent me downstairs again. Coming out the elevator I had no clue where to go, and followed my noise through the dark and dingy corridors of the Wynberg Magistrate’s Court. I ended up at the cashier’s office. There I was told I was in the wrong place and had to be at G7. I found G7, otherwise known as Prisoner’s Friend, on the other side. G7 confused me, what kind of friend would a prisoner need, then it dawned on me. This small room with high ceilings and barricaded cashiers was where bail had to be paid, hence the Prisoner’s Friend. I waited for a while for the cashier to help and in doing so saw a bird fly passed me. At first I thought I was imagining, but then it flew passed again.

Finally I paid my fine and could not wait to get out this place. Never again to I want to roam those dark and dingy corridors of the Wynberg Magistrate’s Court.