The policeman took his time to examine my car papers. He seemed to be in no hurry.
As he flipped through the pages, he walked back on his heels to check the number plate to see if it is the same as the one written on the vehicle licence. Having satisfied himself that I had the correct number plate, he barked an order at me to open the car bonnet. Like the obedient child being told to vacate the only seat in the room for an adult, I meekly did as I was told. All the while, his AK47 dangled carelessly with the barrel occasionally pointing at my chest.
He went over to the engine and looked at nothing in particular. “Insurance”, he barked again. I quickly handed it over. He examined it but I noticed he was holding the cover upside down. I did not call his attention to it. After a long pause, he folded the paper and walked a distance to stop another car. All the while, he held on to my papers. I was raging inside. But I just could not muster enough bile to let out my anger.
Even if I had the intention to confront him for delaying a citizen without any justification, it was dangerous to do so because of the time of day and location of the checkpoint. I was not ready to become the latest statistic in the long list of police killing. The Nigeria Police is notorious for shooting innocent motorists who refuse to part with bribes.
The thought of that possibility was enough deterrent to the demons asking me to fight for my right. But I had an appointment to keep so I alighted from my car, walked up to him and asked meekly. “Oga officer, well done o. Please, can I have my papers?”
He ignored me and moved away to flag down another car. The driver slowed down but zoomed off again. To my horror, the officer pointed his gun at the departing motorist and lowered it. Was he going to shoot? It was a scary thought. Standing with him at the lonely checkpoint even makes the situation more horrifying.
Then, he turned to me and said “Oga, you know what to do.” But I told him my papers were complete, and wondered why he was delaying me there. He ignored me and moved away. I then became angry. “Why is this officer like this, what else am I to do than to ensure all my particulars are correct as a law abiding citizen?, I said to no one else but myself.
I did not expect his response, but when it came, I was momentarily shocked. The policeman took one look at me and with a look of disdain in his eyes, he uttered the words that I had heard many times.
“Oga, I know say your papers are complete but are you not a Nigerian?”
The implication of his statement hit me like a thunderbolt. So, this officer of the law was asking me for a bribe even with my papers correct? The interpretation of his demand became clearer even as he remained adamant. The silent message was: Are you not a Nigerian? Must you be told before knowing what to do? So, in a policeman’s estimation, giving a bribe and taking it are the right thing to do even when you have done the right thing as a citizen. I stood there confused and not knowing what to do because I was not ready to part with a dime. Isn’t that the reason I decided to get my correct papers because of embarrassment from traffic agencies and policemen? Now, here I was, with valid papers held at gunpoint by a renegade officer with an AK47 asking me to grease his palms.
I checked his name tag. It was hidden under a sweater. I looked around and saw a parked police van nearby. I walked across even as he flagged down another truck. I presented my case to the most senior officer among them. He listened and beckoned on the officer. He asked the officer to release my papers. He grudgingly obeyed and threw the papers at me. I thanked the senior officer for the ‘favour’ and walked to my car.
He stalked me to my car: “Stubborn man, nah God save you today. You for sleep here.”
I ignored him and drove off feeling annoyed at my impotence. The fact that I couldn’t do anything made me more annoyed with myself. But I consoled and even praised myself for handling the situation calmly. What if I had reacted angrily and the situation had escalated? What if he had got angry and shot me? What if his gun had gone off “accidentally” in the middle of our argument? One could have been dead. Worse still, the police can even brand one an escapee armed robber and plant a gun in one’s car. They would disappear. And I would have become another figure in the long statistics of extrajudicial killings in Nigeria. I do not consider myself docile. But did William Shakespeare not write that discretion is the better part of valour?
My encounter with the police has further opened my eyes to how Nigerians perceive themselves. The policeman expected me to know “what to do as a real Nigerian” even when I had the right documents. He didn’t care that I had the correct papers. That encounter is the metaphor of the state of our national life today – a life defined by corruption.
It is saddening that corruption appears to be the new normal. In public offices, bribery and all forms of corruption characterise daily business. The clerk expects you to give a bribe to see the boss or get your files processed. The boss expects you to “appreciate” his favours. If you refuse to play ball, they will ask the question: “Are you not a Nigerian?’’
Even education is not spared. The “real” Nigerian parent knows how to bribe examiners. In the universities, students “sort” lecturers to get the best grades even when they cannot construct a single correct sentence. Is it not an irony that in a broken education system, that lacks facilities for research and development, our tertiary institutions are producing first class and doctorate degrees like “pure water?”
In politics, people expect their representatives to be corrupt. Government appointment is celebrated with pomp because of the undeserved expected perks associated with sleaze. When one gets an appointment, friends and family celebrate because they know the appointment offers an opportunity to be a “real” Nigerian. You will be damned if you “enter” government and prove to be different.
You could become an instant enemy of friends and family if you fail to extend the largesse of corruption. They could curse and even disown you. You could also face divorce from your spouse for daring to be “different”. They will ask: “Are you not a Nigerian?” That question has become the metaphor for the endemic corruption that has destroyed the values we once held dear as a society. So, when next you are asked that inevitable question, remember they expect you to behave in a certain way that compromises your values. But you have the moral choice to accept or reject being defined by the standards that call your integrity to question.
PUNCH
END
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