Abuse of office is an old crime

The term “abuse of office” has lately been trending in popular debate, after it emerged that a top-ranking police chief had used state resources for the enjoyment of members of his family.

I have been following the raging debate with profound interest, and watched as the court of public opinion dished out a particularly harsh judgement on our good-old afande.

One would think such a phenomenon is new in our country, but nothing could be further from the truth.

I recall an era when wives of senior military officers openly rode in the military saloon cars to town, and nobody dared raise a finger.

Although the mission of such rides was unknown, it was widely whispered that these trips had nothing to do with our country’s defence business.

Word on the street had it that these military sweethearts were usually going to buy groceries, or to some hairdresser, or just to visit a friend in the other side of town.

Back in my neighbourhood, it is not unusual to see a company-owned vehicle parked in an entertainment joint where some chap has taken his children for ice-cream or bungee jumping.

“There are very few people who can claim not to have abused office in their working lives, or at least enjoyed the fruits of such abuse”, says my friend Odhiambo. “Very few offices have been spared abuse in this country.”

My earliest experience with such shenanigans was in primary school, at a time when schoolchildren were treated to the famous maziwa ya nyayo.

A truck would deliver milk to our school every Monday, guaranteeing each of us a packet every week.

Sadly, there were times when milk was not served at all, until we discovered that some teachers were keeping the milk for use in their homes!

Interestingly, some people saw nothing wrong with this misappropriation.

“Hii maziwa ni mali ya umma,” some people in my village would say. “Teachers and their families are also entitled to the treat.”

However, a part of me still blames my teachers for this fraud. I was an extremely bright child, but being deprived of the government’s milk eventually led to my loss of concentration in class, culminating in my dismal performance in the final examinations.

I wish I could brag that I am this clean employee who makes responsible use of his employer’s resources, and that my household has never profited from use of such, but that would be a lie.

I have in the past been charged with various counts of petty misappropriation and misuse of company resources.

These include unauthorised use of office internet to download software, e-books and movies for my family.

I have also been accused of using office phones for personal calls, as well as unauthorised use of the office photocopier.

And as it turns out, Mama Jimmy, too, has been sucked into this gravy train of white collar fraud and official misappropriation.

On Tuesday evening, she arrived home from work looking particularly jovial, and gathered the children around her.

“Nimewaletea zawadi za kutumia shuleni,” she said, as she put down her handbag which looked conspicuously swollen.

She then quickly unzipped the handbag and pulled out a mind-blowing collection of office stationery. There were several notebooks, pens of various colours, erasers, sticky notes, pencils, staplers, several pairs of scissors and some staple removers.

And when I enquired on the source of this loot, Mama Jimmy made no secret of her little game.

“These are from our office. They gave me more stationery than I requisitioned this month, so I guess the children can have the surplus for next term,” she remarked with a wide grin.

I was about to preach the gospel of professional ethics to her, but I changed my mind immediately after she shoved a new pen in my palm.

Given that her employers do not mind her little rip off, and hoping that nobody suffers from it, I have no problem with this haul.

I should also add that, thanks to her loot, my family has made substantial savings on our children’s stationery budget this term.