On this particular day, I decided to drive to Java and download my emails as it had been several days since I had last checked my work email. On arrival at Java - Junction, I found that their internet had been down for the last two days and they directed me to their Adams Arcade restaurant. Once I got there it was a similar story. I then decided to go and try the cyber café at Nakumatt Prestige on Ngong Road which to my delight was working.
After connecting my laptop to their LAN, I downloaded my emails and also sent a few emails before deciding to head back home through State House Road. As I casually drove home, an over-speeding taxi deliberately drove into me as I was about to turn into Denis Pritt Road. I got out of the car and argued with the cab driver who didn’t seem concerned over the accident. He took off on foot and went to call the cops who arrived after 30 minutes. They marked the road and asked us to move the cars from the road. After the usual questions, the cops asked me to drive with them to Kilimani police station to record a statement as I had not indicated that I was making a turn though I had stopped in readiness to make a turn. It was then that I asked them why they are letting the other driver go that they became bewildered.
When we got to the police station, I waited as they attended to other people. When it got to my turn, I inquired of them again where the cab driver was. I then got into an argument with them over their impartiality in the matter. Before I knew it, I was whisked from the traffic section and into the main police station. It was at this juncture that I called a friend to let them know that I was at the police station. I had not called anyone else before as I considered this to be a small matter. At the reception I was relieved of my belt, cell phone, money, car keys, wedding ring and one shoe before being thrown into the cell. Luckily, I had left my cap, watch, credit cards and other important documents that I had on me in the car. My plea that I should pay a cash bail fell onto deaf years as the police were intent on making sure that I spend a night in the cells.
Once I was in the cell, I was given a rousing welcome by other inmates who mobbed me and frisked me to check if I had any valuables left on me. In the cell, there were many cubicles which didn’t have any lighting. The other suspects tried to direct me into the ones at the furthest end but I refused and negotiated with them. Instead, I went and sat next to the lighted entrance where the cell leaders were positioned so that they could usher in new entrants. Knowing that I was in a dangerous situation, I quickly cut a deal with two guys who seemed to be in charge. I gave them my booking slip that showed I had almost 10,000 shillings on me. I told them, that I’ll give both of them 1,000 shillings if they could organize for me to make one phone call to my family. On hearing my offer, they quickly embraced me into their group and regarded me as one of them.
Were it not for my fluency in Swahili and Sheng, it would have been a different matter for me. We agreed that when the cops brought in the next suspect, they would organize for me to be given 2,500 shillings. In return, they were going to organize with the policeman such that for 500 shillings he would allow me to call my wife. The moment I was thrown into the cell I quickly adapted to my surroundings such that one of the guys thought I was a rogue matatu driver. As we waited, we introduced ourselves and talked freely about the various offences that had landed us in jail. In the cell, there were also other motorists, including a Caucasian, though they were huddled in one of the cubicles. Most of these hardcore guys had been in jail for weeks and they didn’t even know what was going to happen to them. As we sat down talking, they were smoking marijuana and cigarettes which they offered to me. Not wanting to offend them, I cheated them that I am asthmatic and I would get an asthmatic attack if I smoked.
After what seemed to be eternity, the main door opened and my name was called out. I was escorted out by one of the cell leaders. I was received by plain clothes policemen who had been sent to rescue me. I was given back all my possessions and they took me back into the traffic section where I was held as they processed the charge sheet. After 1 hour, I was charged with careless driving and asked to pay a cash bail of 5,000 shillings. I was booked to attend traffic court the day after and released to go home. Relieved that my ordeal was over, I proceeded to drive home. As I was driving home, I got another call from the Kilimani police station asking me to return. I drove back and was informed that my charge had been dropped and they gave me back my 5,000 shillings cash bail.
Unlike most Kenyans, my friend saved me from being hustled in the law courts over a very small matter that could have been settled without me being thrown into the cell. Instead of being given a ticket, the policemen decided to throw me in the cells for a night. Other Kenyans, caught by the wrong arm of the law, who can’t afford to bribe or do not know anyone who can help them end up being incarcerated in police cells as they await holders of justice to have mercy on them.
This is the 3rd time in the last 3 years that I have been booked by Kenyan police over traffic offences. Because of these occurrences, I usually prefer not to drive so as not to be singled out by the police who now openly solicit for bribes every time they make a routine traffic stop. As I have made a stance never to bribe them, I have twice ended up in the law courts where I was handed a fine. While I may be an aggressive driver, I am usually very careful on the road and I have driven in several countries without any mishaps. What baffles me is that every time I’m in Kenya is that if I’m not having run-ins with the cops, my car is being broken into or some matatu or bus is hitting me. I don’t know anyone who drives in Kenya who hasn’t been hustled by cops or matatu drivers or street urchins. I have a cousin who has also been locked up at Kilimani because traffic offences (driving without a seat-belt) and ended up before the traffic courts in Kibera.
If you are coming to Kenya and are planning to drive, make sure you have the contacts of someone who can rescue you from the police brutality. Instead of protecting Kenyans, the Kenyan police have instead turned to extorting money from motorists knowing too well that nothing will happen to them as they have the blessings of their superiors. From my talks with them at the police station, they proved beyond doubt that they can’t reason and they don’t care about what the public thinks about them even if their actions are giving Kenya a bad name due to their corrupt practices.
It is with great anticipation that I awaited the 3-part documentary 'Diamond Road' that's currently airing on the Discovery Times Channel. I thought this might be a good follow up to another documentary - 'Blood Diamonds' that aired on the History Channel. While the focus of the documentaries might be different, the core message is the same - The diamond industry has been taking us for a ride!
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