A R1000 fine for 'smuggling' one orange. Any takers?

“That will be 200 dollars New Zealand sir,” said the airport official at Auckland International airport, New Zealand.

“Two hundred dollars for this naartjie, I mean orange, mandarin, whatever?”

“Yes sir.”

My wife burst into tears. I wanted to hit the smirking youngster in front of me.

Let’s back up a bit.

After Llewellyn Kriel’s piece on serious inefficiency in Joburg’s airport, some horrible memories shuddered through me. I will never forget the fricken naartjie episode in Auckland’s airport.

As a result of our flight from Shanghai to Auckland, New Zealand, some three and a half years ago I have become almost terrified of flying and the way airport authorities can treat you.

The flight included a connecting flight from Sydney to Auckland and was fraught with delays and tedious bureaucracy, including a last-minute decision by Shanghai airport that we needed to apply for an electronic visa for Australia even though we had no intention of leaving Sydney’s airport. We nearly missed our flight — the only reason why we didn’t was that it was delayed. And the connecting flight to Auckland was delayed — we spent most of the day in the airport.

None of that really bothered me much, but by the time we got to Auckland airport we were exhausted, cranky, and we stank. In the airplane to Auckland we were given declaration forms to fill out. This included declaring any medical and organic items such as food into the country. We were double-checked at arrivals to make sure we had signed the forms, which was rather cunning as we were later to discover.

Then our luggage was put through scanners and a small hell broke loose. Buried at the bottom of one of the side pockets of my backpack was one small mandarin, a naartjie. I had no clue it was there. We were virtually marched into the airport security office like criminals. The young man on duty had a permanent smirk on his face as we babbled, “Really it was a mistake, we had no idea the fruit was there, all you had to do was confiscate it … ”

“Did you sign this form sir?” was the only response coming again and again from the police official.

“Yes, but … ”

“Then that will be a two hundred dollar fine before you can leave the airport, sir.” Two hundred dollars at the time was about one thousand rand.

Behind my back I understood now why there was a small Thomas Cook (or one of those) forex exchange desk in the check-in area. It seemed to be doing some brisk business. We paid the fine, humiliated, embarrassed, treated like willful criminals, Marion wiping the tears off her face.

“Enjoy your stay in New Zealand, sir,” said the smirking official. That was the worst verbal smack across the face I have ever received. Ever.

He knew we were not smuggling one item of fruit into the country. All he had to do was confiscate it, give us a firm lecture, tell us what the fine would be if it happened again, even record electronically against our passport numbers on their computers our “misdemeanour”.

In my life I have been on about one hundred flights and perhaps twice I have had nail clippers confiscated at check-in counters because of security. Fair enough. But there was no fine, as any fool could see — except for my “abecedarian acolyte” commentators on my blogs, I guess (he chuckles) — that I was not doing anything intentionally criminal or deliberately harmful. I learned long ago to put my nail clippers into my main luggage. That’s all Smirky Face had to do was confiscate and give a firm warning and he knew it. The official knew what we had done was entirely unintentional; it was obvious we were exhausted by flight delays and jet lag to the point of being shattered … and yet we were treated like common criminals, not guests in their country. And what profit is there for me for “smuggling” one naartjie into a country? My guess is the official just needed to reach his quota of fines.

Sure, I understand New Zealand’s strictness and their concern about diseases or foreign insects coming into their country and affecting their delicate ecology. But there was no way any undesirable item can get past those high-tech scanners, so the country is safe from that point of view anyway.

I personally think the manner in which we were treated was shocking. Soon after we arrived in Auckland we learned of a Dutch tourist who was head-butted by a Maori for no reason at all. The tourist’s nose was broken. No jail sentence was his punishment: just some hours of community service. I paid one thousand rands for a naartjie I did not even know was in my backpack.

The motivation for me to write this blog is, like Llewellyn Kriel (well I am sure it is his motivation), to bring to as many people’s attention the appalling manner in which travelers are treated in airports.

Are these airport officials given any schooling in the psychology of traveling? People are disorientated in these huge, noisy, impersonal airports; they are often completely strange places and it is made even more alien when you cannot understand the language or have difficulty with cultural differences. Then compound that with flight delays, jet lag, lost luggage and all the rest, and you have worn-out, nervous, even frightened “guests” (like hell you are) arriving at the door of that country. By the time we were “ushered” into Smirky Face’s office we were frightened, almost nervous wrecks. We were humiliated and treated like excrement.

I was strongly tempted to phone the airport authorities to complain about the airport official, but I had a suspicion that might give him more points towards his next promotion. You are not in your own country; you are a foreigner.

Do not get me wrong: New Zealand is a beautiful place. We were stunned by the cleanliness and orderliness of Auckland. The people were wonderful. Man, can they do lamb proud; I had the best chops I have ever had in my life. But experiences like what we went through above needs to be brought into the light as much as possible and firmly addressed.