As we pulled onto the road to leave the Mambo Point Pizzeria with some of our friends piled in the back of the Landcruiser, a police truck with two officers in the cab and six officers in the bed pulled in front of Amy with its high beams on. This, of course, made us a bit nervous, as we knew the police like to shake foreigners down for bribes and we were committing multiple easily identifiable traffic violations, including but not necessarily limited to: (i) too many people (eight) in the car; (ii) no seatbelts on about half the passengers; (iii) one child (Rachel) seated in the front seat; and (iv) that child, riding on a lap instead of in a seat. Yes, we’re bad parents… we know. Try to focus on the story.
One traffic law we didn’t think we had violated was going the wrong way on a one way street. One reason we thought we were compliant in this regard was the complete lack of any markings on the street to suggest that it was a one way. Another was the traffic moving steadily along in both directions. Nonetheless, when the officer came to the window, his infraction of choice for the evening was “wrong way on a one way street.”
Amy immediately went into her dumb foreigner routine, “Oh, I’m so sorry officer;” “ I’m new here and didn’t realize;” “Is there a sign?” “Thank you for explaining this to me;” “Oh, I am going to be such a better driver just having spoken with you this evening;” etc… She is actually quite good at it. The officer seemed to buy it, and told her to turn around in the drive behind her and go the other way. Amy happily obliged and we drove off down the road.
Moments later, there were cherries in the rear view mirror. Amy pulled over, and the same officer came to the window.
“Why did you drive away?” he asked.
“Because you told me to,” she answered, politely.
In the back seat, Levi started wailing – and not just a little bit – big long shrill screams. The officer, trying to ignore the screaming baby, explained to Amy that he could arrest her for fleeing the scene.
“This is a country of laws, madam,” he said. “You cannot just drive away when an officer tells you to pull over.”
Now, this was annoying, because he clearly had not told her to pull over. While I steamed in the passenger seat, Amy kept her cool, and went right back to the dumb foreigner routine. The officer, clearly trying to get away from the piercing cries of Levi asked Amy and I to get out of the car. Since we had three additional adults in the car to watch the kids, we obliged and walked across the street to the police truck that was still flashing its cherries for all to see.
When we arrived at the police truck, the officer explained that “his boss” would have to decide what to do with us. His boss, it turns out, was a clearly intoxicated and half asleep officer slouched in passenger seat of the truck. The first officer then proceeded to explain the process to us.
“We are going to give you a ticket, which you can pay at headquarters. Of course, because it is Friday night, police headquarters is already closed and won’t open until Monday morning. We’ll have to impound your car until then,” he soberly explained, “or… we could forgive you.”
Ahh, the catch.
“We would prefer forgiveness,” I said, trying my best to follow Amy’s lead as a dumb foreigner and knowing full well what was coming next.
The original arresting officer said he would like to talk to me in front of the car. I accompanied him to the front of the car. He put his hand on my shoulder, and just like he was my best friend in the world, he explained to me that if I didn’t want to lose my car for the weekend and deal with the hassle of police headquarters on Monday, all I had to do was pay him 100,000 schillings (about $50).
I smiled, a little shocked that he had been so straight-forward with his request. I had heard that police officers looking for a bribe usually asked for you to buy them a soda, or get them something to eat. This guy was apparently not planning to be so subtle.
I laughed and told him I couldn’t do that, but he was persistent. The exchanges I can recall include the following:
- Me – Do you see my shirt (it was an IJM Shirt with the IJM logo and the words “Seek Justice” emblazoned on the chest)? This is my employer, and they do not allow their employees to pay bribes.
- PO – But it’s not a bribe because I’m not making you pay me. I am just asking.
- Me – Yes, and I appreciate how polite you are being about it, but it is still technically a bribe, and if I pay you I will get fired.
- PO – But why would your employer ever need to find out. You could just pay me and no one would know.
- Me – See those three people in the car with me. Those are all my employees at IJM, and if they see me pay you, they will report me and I will be fired.
- PO – Did you tip your waiter today?
- Me – Yes.
- PO – It is no different. I am not asking for a bribe. I am just asking for a tip for all of us. We have to work hard, and they don’t pay us very well.
- Me – I couldn’t agree more. You do have a hard job, and you are grossly underpaid, but there is nothing I can do about it. I still can’t pay you a bribe.
- PO – It is not a bribe, it is a tip.
- Me – No, a tip is payment I give to someone for personal service. You are asking me to pay you not to give me a ticket. That’s a bribe and I can’t pay a bribe.
- PO – If I were hungry would you give me some money for food.
- Me – If you were hungry, I would take you to dinner.
- PO – We are all very, very hungry.
- Me – It’s too late. You didn’t come asking me for food. You came asking for a bribe, and I can’t pay a bribe.
Most of these exchanges occurred over and over with a lot of laughing, back slapping and false compliments. It was a shockingly friendly and almost pleasant negotiating experience, notwithstanding the fact that we had clearly reached an impasse.
After about 10 minutes of back and forth, I decided I needed to press my only advantage. Seeing that Levi was still screaming in the car across the street, I asked to be allowed to go get him. I happily scooped up the screaming baby and handed him to my wife who held him about six inches from “the boss’s” ear. We continued to happily and politely refuse the officers’ requests for money while Levi continued to cause significant discomfort for “the boss” and his entourage.
After a few more minutes, the original officer apparently figured it was a lost cause. He lightly scolded Amy, telling her that she needed to get her baby home to feed him, as if we had the option to leave at any time. He then let us go without so much as a warning. We loaded back into the car and headed home, none the worse from our little encounter.
