First Brush with Corruption

There is one story that is quite interesting that happened when I was with my mom that I omitted earlier, because I think it is a full blog entry all on it’s own.

Kenya is riddled with corruption, from the highest offices to the most lowly employee. The President appoints his tribal members and gives the best funding to his own province and district. Ministers reroute their portfolios funding into their own pockets. But the corruption that got in my way was that of the police officers. It’s well known in Kenya, even among whites, that the cops don’t really give tickets, they just take bribes. Any taxi driver or motorbike driver can tell you that’s how they get through their road blocks. If you resist the bribe attempt, you may well be thrown into a Kenyan jail, which is something to fear. It’s also well known that in the jails that prisoners are beaten, starved, and sometimes tortured. So you want to go with the bribe route and make it easier.

So my mom and I are in a taxi on our way to the airport when we see a police line on the road. I move to buckle my seatbelt (this is my first mistake). The policemen wave us over and then request that the driver show his documents, so he exits the car. The officer taps on my mom’s window.
“Where are you going? And why aren’t you wearing your seatbelt?”
“We’re on our way to the airport; I had just forgotten, I’m sorry.”
“You know the fine is 2000Ksh per person for that.” (About $30.)
“Per person?! That’s a lot! I’ve been in lots of vehicles in police lines and I’ve never been stopped for not wearing my seatbelt!”
“You can come into court tomorrow and settle it there.”
“We can’t exactly come into court tomorrow, my mom needs to fly out tonight, we’re on our way to the airport now.”
“Then you have to pay the fine now.”

So I look into my bag and explain to him that I really only have 2000Ksh because I have to pay the cab driver the other bit of my money. He takes it, of course.

My logic? This cop doesn’t care about the law, and just wants my money above all, so if I give him what he wants he’ll just let us pass to the airport. He knows I don’t know the rules and he knows I have to be at the airport so he has the upper hand here, for sure. As the taxi driver gets back into the cab I exclaim “What an asshole!” I feel like I want to cry. I know I just got screwed.

But I drop my mom off at the airport and that goes smoothly, although it was really sad to know that I won't get to see her, or really anybody, for over four months. When I get back with the taxi, I mention the disappointing experience with the officer, and he's surprised. He says that it wasn't even a traffic officer, and he had no right to take the money. The fine is actually 500Ksh instead of 2000Ksh. If I had even asked for a receipt he wouldn't have been able to do that.

Again, my logic? This guy doesn't care about the law, and he could easily make my mom miss her flight just for fun. He could also throw me in jail. The cops in Kenya are as scary as the criminals; they ARE the criminals. On TV, you can see, at least twice a week, a cop brutally beating someone who is running from them. The cops actually CHASE people and beat them. And they're not scared of the media seeing, of the public seeing, of anyone. They're scary.

So it turned out I didn't really have to pay the money (well, duh!), and that I had been totally taken advantage of. The cop knew I didn't know the rules and he knew I had to get out of there quickly, and he worked it for all it was worth. Hopefully in the future I can be smarter!