Checkpoint Exploitation

1998
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Zibby cruised down University Road in his Peugeot 305, the sun shining brightly through the windows causing narrow streams of sweat to roll down his back. He had inherited the car from his mum and though it was pretty old, he was proud of it. His friends called it ‘the jeep’, which was short for ‘jalopy’ – a wreck. He, and it, bore the name proudly.

He loved driving. He loved the freedom of spinning round the streets of Lagos without having to run after moving buses with 50,000 other people. However, there was one striking disadvantage of being mobile in this way. The policemen.

As Zibby approached the popular keke roundabout, he noticed 3 men in black lurking by the side of the road, their long ancient-looking guns at the ready.

Not me. Come on… not me… not today…

One of the policemen stepped ever so slightly onto the road and motioned for Zibby to stop. He considered speeding past, but quickly checked that risky thought. He pulled over to the right, a few seconds before the impromptu checkpoint.

“Good afternoon officer!” he said, cheerily.

The policeman peered into the jeep, expecting a standard transaction to occur. Five seconds passed, in which Zibby simply stared at the officer, and he stared back. The man frowned. This was clearly going to be a difficult customer.

“Your licence and particulars!” the officer barked.

Zibby flicked open the glove compartment and produced the vehicle’s papers. The policeman examined them for longer than he needed to, and then said, “Licence nko?”

Zibby swallowed hard.

“Oga, I’m sorry, I forgot it at home.” Zibby was telling the truth. “I live just 10 minutes away and rushed out to do a few things nearby.”

The officer knew he had the upper hand. If he was ever going to extract a ‘tip’ from this one, now was the time.

“Park well!” he barked.

Zibby had left his engine running, and once more contemplated flooring the accelerator. Instead, he brought the car fully into the nearby parking area and turned off his engine. Why did he forget that pesky licence?!

Now, Zibby knew the law well. He was studying Law at the University of Lagos. He was aware that he had a number of days in which to produce a valid licence, and that it was no crime for him to drive without being in physical possession of one. He calmly opened his door and stepped out.

“Oga, please, I’m just trying to get home. I live 10 minutes away.”
“Is that why you forgot your licence?”

Zibby sighed. He knew what the officer really wanted, but was not willing to part with one kobo. He did not intend to fuel the culture of checkpoint exploitation.

“You know this is a very serious offence?” the officer continued.
Actually, I know it’s not. Zibby thought. Then, rather unwisely, said aloud “Doesn’t the law say…”

“Oh?! You want to quote law for me?” shrieked the policeman. “Sule! Sule!” His colleague slowly made his way towards the pair of them. “Sule, this one thinks he’s a lawyer!”

“I am a law student, actually” said Zibby. He still hadn’t learned when to shut up.
“Then we will show you what we do to law students!” responded the man in black sharply. “Sule, enter the front! Oya, law student, enter your car!”

“Officer, sorry, please…”
“You can’t beg the corpse after the head has been cut off!” shouted the incensed man.

What does that even mean? thought Zibby, before succumbing to a rising sense of panic. He quickly weighed up the options in his mind. He could enter the car with a decidedly unfriendly-looking Sule, and find himself escorted to a police station where an uncertain fate would await him. Alternatively, he could make a dash for his car, and risk being shot down and tagged as an ‘escaping armed robber’. Or…

“Have a good day sir! Don’t forget your licence again!” The man in black grinned and saluted with one hand, a twenty naira note stuffed securely into his trouser pocket.

Zibby looked in his rear mirror, as he drove off, muttering angrily to himself.

I can’t take much more of this...