Andrew Kipkemboi
A series of unfriendly encounters with police officers have convinced me that not only is the force profoundly incompetent and insensitive, but also incorrigibly corrupt and rude. And sadly, civilians have given them a blank cheque to bully, coerce, harm and even kill them.
When flagged down by a traffic officer on Nairobi’s Museum Hill roundabout three Saturdays ago, I dutifully stopped.
My heart skipped a beat since I couldn’t remember jumping the lights or thumbing my nose at them — as most motorists are wont to do when they are forced to stop at those unco-ordinated traffic controls?
Our predatory police officers frighten even the most law-abiding of citizens. So I braced myself for the worst.
Apparently, the SUV parked on the shoulder of the roundabout had committed an infraction and the officer needed someone to take him to the station so he could book the suspect.
"Amekataa mtu kuingia gari yake ... si twende na wewe?" (Let me ride in your car to the station to book that SUV driver. He won’t let me use his vehicle), the man lamented.
I calmly declined, yet aware that he could stitch me up.
Naturally, I expected the burly man to respect my decision because one, it is my car and my tax pays him a salary and two; gives him the resources to apprehend, arrest and transfer suspects to a police station. Instead, the unperturbed officer barked at me: "Tutaona utakopoibiwa utaenda wapi," (We shall see who you will turn to for help should you be attacked by thieves).
He must have found me oddly ‘rude’. For standing up against a force used to compliant and apologetic motorists, the officer spat out a mouthful of the foulest words he could mutter.
Suffer silently
This incident mirrors how the ruling elite rides roughshod over the rest of us and how we suffer silently the consequence of bad governance, incompetence and corruption.
No doubt, it is a rich man’s police force. The ‘It’ here refers to one of those overweight, ugly-looking SUVs. The policeman found it convenient to use me to arrest the owner of the big car.
It is not that all elite are corrupt or that all wealth is ill-gotten. But invariably, wealth, politics and power lie cheek-by-jowl with corruption.
You wouldn’t be considered serious if you don’t drive one of those humongous cars. The politicians have played on our naivete, fear and gullibility to amass money and wealth.
Unfortunately, the rest of us are helpless, incapable or unaware things ought not to be this way. How often do you see those ten-tonne, low-flying missiles hurtle by policemen at a roadblock cuddling a speed detector?
In your small, ‘convenient’ saloon car, the officers find easy prey and will, like they did again that Saturday, stop you and take you through the nerve jarring — "Where is your licence? Fungua boot...Wapi triangle? Unatoka wapi? Unafanya kazi wapi?" crock all the while turning a blind eye to flagrant rule-breaking right under their noses.
It is the bourgeoisie and proletariat that suffer most from this cycle of corruption and bad governance. Many have had to grease someone’s palm to get access to the most basic necessities.
Here is how corruption works and feeds into the culture of political gangsterism that pervades a society where anything goes:
A politically-connected trader tenders to supply medicine to public hospitals then ships in substandard drugs. He flies out of the country to seek treatment when he later falls sick.
Or the one who tenders to build roads then lays wafer thin tarmac that wears out and forces you to replace your suspension system every three months from his motor spare mart. He need not build good roads because he drives an all-terrain juggernaut.
How about the one who tenders to supply chlorine to treat water and delivers chalk rather than pain killers in hospitals, so you can buy the real drugs off the counter from his pharmacy.
Timed forays
Having made a killing from our sweat, the swaggering politician will make timed forays into the constituency.
He or she will frequent the place on weekends to attend church functions, fundraise for the pastor’s house, buy irrelevant books for primary schools, attend secondary school PTA meeting though s/he is neither parent nor teacher there but will give a speech full of platitudes about development.
They will talk about what ought to be and trundle familiar promises. A few more appearances at a soccer match and the fellow is on the way to becoming the people’s representative.
The writer is Foreign News Editor with The Standard Group.
akipkemboi@standardmedia.co.ke
