A First

I can no longer say that I have never bribed the police. It's a fact of life on this continent where police are corrupt and poor (here they haven't been paid in 2 months) and bureaucracy is impossible. Part of my reason for actually never giving a bribe is utter cluelessness. Before I got a residence permit in Lesotho, I was given constant trouble at the border trying to get another 30 days by leaving the country for five minutes and crossing back over on the other side. Sometimes an official would ask for "help." "Help with what?" I would ask. They would never ask for money outright and they would eventually give up in exasperation. On another occasion, one of the border police kept complaining how hot he was while gripping onto my passport. It was really code for "Give me money for a cold drink," but I just suggested he take off his jacket and get out of the sun. It was really months before I caught on. Who knows how many bribes I avoided paying by being completely stupid.

In Congo they are more up front. Last weekend while driving to a 20k run in the bush a friend tried to move some cones at a construction to site to squeeze by. A police officer shouted at him, "Don't you know this is Congo?! You can't just do whatever you want without a coke!" So he gave him a couple hundred Congolese francs, the cop moved the cones and the runners were on the road again.

Today in horrendous rush hour traffic, I set off grocery shopping for a camping trip with a couple of other teachers. We almost missed the turn, when a traffic cop started giving us wild, conflicting gestures. We stuttered for a bit trying to figure out what to do, and then decided to just keep driving straight. Although not illegal, it pissed the cop off. We stupidly made a u-turn and tried to enter the street from the other direction while the cop was probably shouting to all her colleagues, blue car full of white people! blue car full of white people! Two police stepped in front of us and stopped us. Police stop cars all the time. They don't need a reason to stop cars and they generally don't have a good one. They're bored and disgruntled and probably hungry. And since they are used in lieu of traffic lights, there are a lot of them. The rules of thumb for foreigners are leave windows up and doors locked. Show your license through the window glass. Don't speak French. Act like you understand nothing. If all else fails call your boss, call the Regional Security Officer of the US Embassy, call Post One US Marines.

We said "English" over and over again through a crack in the window and held the registration up to the glass. She asked for the driver's license and the guy driving said, "Shit, I changed my pants." This was bad. Pulled over by police and your driver's license is in the pocket of a pair of jeans crumpled on the floor. He shrugged in despair. We were told to roll down the window, we said "no." We were told to come to the police station, we said "hell no," and called our boss.

She concurred it was bad. She told us she would have to make phone calls.

We stared straight ahead in a moronic deadlock, waiting, waiting, waiting. Finally one of the cops approached the window smiled, and rubbed his fingers together. It was a universal sign that even I could not miss. It was not a hard decision. When I was deemed to have the lowest denomination that would not be laughed at, I passed a twenty forward. The officer smiled wider. The driver accelerated wiping his sweaty palms on his "Peace is Cheaper" t-shirt. Nothing but relief.