Police

I have written quite a number of blogs about the police during my 2.5 years stay in Africa and I am quite sure that some are still to follow. The guys in the blue uniforms are definitely one of my biggest challenges in this lovely continent. Also last week, my patience was tested by one of those guys.

During my first weeks in Tanzania I got my learners’ license to be able to ride a ‘pikipiki’ (motorbike). Now, after 3 months, the learners’ license expires and I have to apply for an official one. One morning last week I left the house to go to town to sort this out. And it became a long long long day of hard work.

The first thing I had to do, people told me, is to go to the Tanzanian Revenue Association to get a form to apply for my license. So, my first stop this morning is at the desk of a government official. After a brief exchange of greetings (how are you, how is work, how is the house, how is your family), I get the form, fill it in and am told to go to the police to have the form stamped. Of course, how could I expect anything different, is the police station on the other end of town. In the pouring rain, I walk to the police station where I knock at the office of the ‘traffic police, while dripping from head to toe. The normal exchange of greetings is in this case suddenly not necessary. The fat man behind the desk must have left his bed on the wrong side this morning, since even my sweetest smile doesn’t get him to open up, not even a bit! My request to speak English is also not granted. ‘You just speak Swahili!’. And so, the tone of the conversation is being set. No friendliness but rudeness from his side and a lot of begging and pleading is expected from my side. I try my hardest to be as humble as I can and stumble my way through the Swahili words I know, while offering the form to the Officer in charge. The Angry Man glimpses at the form and pushes it back into my direction. ‘You should have used a blue pen, not a black pen. Go back to the TRA office and fill a new form’. ‘Oh I am so sorry sir, thank you sir, see you later sir’. While talking a lot to myself and not using the most positive vocabulary, I walk back in the rain. My friends at that office have never encountered this problem before, but they are so kind to give me a new form and a blue pen to fill it in. Not long after that am I walking again, avoiding all the puddles of water and trying not to get too wet, in the direction of the police office. The Angry Man has granted one of my requests which is to speak English. ‘Thank you so much Sir, that is very kind of you Sir’. He looks at the form again and pushes it back to my side of the table. ‘Now you go back and get a learners’ license for a car, otherwise I can’t give you a Tanzanian car license’. With all my patience that is left, I try to explain the man that about 20 years ago I passed all tests in Europe and have been driving a car ever since. ‘Do I really need a learners’ license for a car Sir?’ The look on his Angry face, says enough: ‘Yes, you go now’. And so, very soon after I arrived am I on my way back to TRA. The biggest mistake I made in this whole issue, of course, is not to offer this fat man a bribe. But, I refuse to waste my money on these type of people and so I need to be prepared to be treated like this! The people at the TRA office are very happy to see me at their desk again. They can’t believe what I am going through and upon my request they write a short note to the police officer to ask for his cooperation.  When I get back to the police office, lunch time has started. After I waited for more than an hour, the man appears, looks at me and slams his door before I even have the opportunity to turn my face towards it. The other 7 people waiting are probably even more annoyed than I am, although I can’t believe that being possible. After another 20 minutes of waiting and complaining about those ‘police who are not serious’, the door opens. Apparently the nap of the man has taken long enough. Mister Angry looks at the note of the TRA people and stares at his computer screen. After another 5 minutes I leave his office with a stamp and his signature on my form. Hurray, I am out of there! ‘Thank you so much Sir, good bye Sir’.

My delight does not take very long, though. My friends at TRA tell me that Mister Angry has ‘forgotten’ to enter my data into the computer system. I need to go back. I already ran out of patience a couple of hours ago and this is just too much! Luckily enough it is still raining and during my walk back to the police station, I cool down a bit. It is already late and I expect that the policeman will have left his office or will send me away because he wants to go home. I prepare myself for the worst when I find my place in the queue. But, Oh what a miracle, after only 20 minutes waiting and a last unfriendly look, I am ready to leave again. Job done! My anger, the coldness and rain have absorbed all my energy and by this time TRA has closed. So I decided to leave the rest of the job till tomorrow.

And ........ this afternoon I left the TRA office with a brand new, shiny, Tanzanian green driving license! I am ready for another encounter with my friends of the police, which I am sure, won’t take long before it happens!