You are hereby charged with assaulting a Liberian police officer!!
I am sitting here on the veranda at home overlooking the rollers coming in off the depths of the Atlantic. The ocean breeze is calm, but steady. The water shimmers light as the refraction of a thousand diamonds. The scene is peaceful. The tranquility washes over me; it is such a different feeling from what transpired just a few short hours ago. I sit back with a bemused look on my face. “Yes it’s true,” I think to myself, “Here comes LNP (Liberia National Police) story #3!”
It all began last night around midnight, but for now I will cut out the regular preamble to a Marcel (Sebastian) story and cut straight to the heart of the matter. I was in the Toyota Hilux this afternoon with Augustus D. Vannie, the SP Livestock Program Manager. We were just coming back from an all nighter fish pond stocking trip (story to be posted later) and we were both dozing - except that I was trying to drive between the dozing. We had nearly reached our office, about a 10 minute drive away, when traffic began backing up. We both groaned. This was the last thing we needed in the 10th hour of driving. We were in the right hand lane traveling at a painfully slow pace. After a half hour I finally had a chance to shift into the left lane where I could access the turnoff to the shortcut home. As I had my blinker on to make the left turn a police officer b-lined it from the intersection to our vehicle. He was yelling before he even reached our truck. “Oh no” I mummered to Vannie, “Here comes our favourite people – the LNP!”
I rolled down the window. He informed me that I could not change lanes since he was in control of directing traffic. He also mentioned that I was required to obey him. This was turning out to be another West African Power Play. He then stormed off in the direction of the intersection. I let him know as he walked away that I had a very good reason to “bend left” (as we say in Liberia). Since he would not listen to me, I decided to take control of the situation. I shoulder checked to make sure I was clear to come in; the transport truck waved me in. I then let go of the brake and was just touching the gas pedal when I looked up and to my amazement he was still standing there! I lightly tapped him with the front end of my pick-up truck. He turned around and pointed his long, bony finger at my windshield, yelling in an uncontrolled voice: “I am taking you to court! You have just assaulted a Liberian Police Officer. You pull over now and give me your keys.” As I pulled over the vehicle, that all too familiar knot of tension began forming in my gut. I was resolved to obey the rules of dealing with the LNP: the first rule is to never give them your keys. The second rule of thumb is to never give them your license. That is precisely where the problem arose.
I pulled the vehicle over, at that point fully aware that I was dealing with a highly volatile man wearing a blue uniform. He approached the vehicle with a twisted look of rage tightening across his face. He asked me if I had a valid driver’s license. I replied in the affirmative. He asked me to prove it. I looked in my bag fully confident that I could show him my BC driver’s license, which I always claim is internationally valid (I usually tell them that Canadians are some of the best drivers in the world.) To my chagrin, as I searched the bag I found no wallet. As I traced back in the events of the previous day I realized that I had left the wallet on the kitchen table. I smiled sheepishly as I looked up at the officer all the while thinking in my mind: “This story will definitely make it to the blog.”
He glared down at me. He told me that I could not drive since I did not have a license. I admitted defeat, but then I blurted out that Vannie can drive. The police officer conceded for a moment; he asked Augustus for his license. At that moment Vannie made a critical mistake. He handed over his license to the police officer. The man looked at it for a moment and then proceeded to walk away. Vannie sat there for a few seconds with no reaction and then he suddenly blurted out, “My license!” He jumped out of the vehicle and followed the man to the intersection where he began engaging the man in a heated argument. I phoned my friend Dave and told him that I was once again in trouble with the LNP. As I looked up I saw Vannie and the police going head to head in a finger pointing, tongue lashing argument. I mused internally: “This is entertaining…but poor Vannie. The old pappy’s blood pressure is going through the roof.” I drove the pick-up past the intersection and pulled over at the police depot. This was my third visit to a police depot in the same number of weeks. Ode to joy!
I got out of my vehicle. The warmth of the humid afternoon poured over me, and I began to sweat. A few police officers began to take me down a futile line of questioning about my license. I admitted my fault and apologized several times. The original finger wagging police officer then came into the circle of discussion and all of the other LNP officers portrayed an obvious embarrassment as to the irrational reaction of their compadre. He came into the circle with his finger pointed in my face – “This man assaulted me! He assaulted a National Liberian Police Officer. Here, look at my trousers. You see how they are dirtied here.” At that moment my phone rang. It was Judge Nuta, our legal aide who is very well respected in the judicial system. I like to throw his name around every so often to make people sweat. He asked me of the status of the situation. I candidly told him that Augustus was beside himself with frustration and that I was being accused (this time around) of assaulting a Police Officer. He asked to talk with the Chief of Traffic. I looked out at the intersection. The Traffic Chief, Gus as he is called, was out there directing traffic. So I walked out there and told him that Counsellor Nuta would like to talk with him. His confidence disappeared from him like a 5 Liberian Dollar note on a windy afternoon. The Judge told him to intervene in the situation. Our man Gus was a little shy about it all and asked the Judge to talk with the officer. The phone was handed to the officer who was clueless as to the level of power and sway the Judge held. The officer came in swinging. He was yelling before the phone even came close to his ear. “This white man hit me…he knocked me down…he assaulted a Liberian Police Officer…he ran me down with that NGO car…it doesn’t matter, he assaulted a Liberian Police officer.” All of the police officers once again exuded their embarrassment; they could not hide it.
The traffic chief then went into the depot and pleaded with the officer to just this once act rationally. I looked over and smiled. There was my man Vannie holding out his hand patiently in front of the man just waiting for his license to be handed over. After some coaxing the transaction was made and Vannie and I left without having to pay a dollar for this inconvenience. As we were leaving the belligerent officer yelled at us, “I will get you next time! You white man who assaulted a Police Officer. You will pay!”
Postscript:
I suppose I did not reach my goal of not talking with the LNP again. I need to set more attainable goals in the future. I found it humourous that the day this happened the government has began issuing guns to the Liberian National Police as a means of serving and protecting the people. I am just hoping that they do not give any to the traffic police.
Be well wherever life finds you,
Marcel
It all began last night around midnight, but for now I will cut out the regular preamble to a Marcel (Sebastian) story and cut straight to the heart of the matter. I was in the Toyota Hilux this afternoon with Augustus D. Vannie, the SP Livestock Program Manager. We were just coming back from an all nighter fish pond stocking trip (story to be posted later) and we were both dozing - except that I was trying to drive between the dozing. We had nearly reached our office, about a 10 minute drive away, when traffic began backing up. We both groaned. This was the last thing we needed in the 10th hour of driving. We were in the right hand lane traveling at a painfully slow pace. After a half hour I finally had a chance to shift into the left lane where I could access the turnoff to the shortcut home. As I had my blinker on to make the left turn a police officer b-lined it from the intersection to our vehicle. He was yelling before he even reached our truck. “Oh no” I mummered to Vannie, “Here comes our favourite people – the LNP!”
I rolled down the window. He informed me that I could not change lanes since he was in control of directing traffic. He also mentioned that I was required to obey him. This was turning out to be another West African Power Play. He then stormed off in the direction of the intersection. I let him know as he walked away that I had a very good reason to “bend left” (as we say in Liberia). Since he would not listen to me, I decided to take control of the situation. I shoulder checked to make sure I was clear to come in; the transport truck waved me in. I then let go of the brake and was just touching the gas pedal when I looked up and to my amazement he was still standing there! I lightly tapped him with the front end of my pick-up truck. He turned around and pointed his long, bony finger at my windshield, yelling in an uncontrolled voice: “I am taking you to court! You have just assaulted a Liberian Police Officer. You pull over now and give me your keys.” As I pulled over the vehicle, that all too familiar knot of tension began forming in my gut. I was resolved to obey the rules of dealing with the LNP: the first rule is to never give them your keys. The second rule of thumb is to never give them your license. That is precisely where the problem arose.
I pulled the vehicle over, at that point fully aware that I was dealing with a highly volatile man wearing a blue uniform. He approached the vehicle with a twisted look of rage tightening across his face. He asked me if I had a valid driver’s license. I replied in the affirmative. He asked me to prove it. I looked in my bag fully confident that I could show him my BC driver’s license, which I always claim is internationally valid (I usually tell them that Canadians are some of the best drivers in the world.) To my chagrin, as I searched the bag I found no wallet. As I traced back in the events of the previous day I realized that I had left the wallet on the kitchen table. I smiled sheepishly as I looked up at the officer all the while thinking in my mind: “This story will definitely make it to the blog.”
He glared down at me. He told me that I could not drive since I did not have a license. I admitted defeat, but then I blurted out that Vannie can drive. The police officer conceded for a moment; he asked Augustus for his license. At that moment Vannie made a critical mistake. He handed over his license to the police officer. The man looked at it for a moment and then proceeded to walk away. Vannie sat there for a few seconds with no reaction and then he suddenly blurted out, “My license!” He jumped out of the vehicle and followed the man to the intersection where he began engaging the man in a heated argument. I phoned my friend Dave and told him that I was once again in trouble with the LNP. As I looked up I saw Vannie and the police going head to head in a finger pointing, tongue lashing argument. I mused internally: “This is entertaining…but poor Vannie. The old pappy’s blood pressure is going through the roof.” I drove the pick-up past the intersection and pulled over at the police depot. This was my third visit to a police depot in the same number of weeks. Ode to joy!
I got out of my vehicle. The warmth of the humid afternoon poured over me, and I began to sweat. A few police officers began to take me down a futile line of questioning about my license. I admitted my fault and apologized several times. The original finger wagging police officer then came into the circle of discussion and all of the other LNP officers portrayed an obvious embarrassment as to the irrational reaction of their compadre. He came into the circle with his finger pointed in my face – “This man assaulted me! He assaulted a National Liberian Police Officer. Here, look at my trousers. You see how they are dirtied here.” At that moment my phone rang. It was Judge Nuta, our legal aide who is very well respected in the judicial system. I like to throw his name around every so often to make people sweat. He asked me of the status of the situation. I candidly told him that Augustus was beside himself with frustration and that I was being accused (this time around) of assaulting a Police Officer. He asked to talk with the Chief of Traffic. I looked out at the intersection. The Traffic Chief, Gus as he is called, was out there directing traffic. So I walked out there and told him that Counsellor Nuta would like to talk with him. His confidence disappeared from him like a 5 Liberian Dollar note on a windy afternoon. The Judge told him to intervene in the situation. Our man Gus was a little shy about it all and asked the Judge to talk with the officer. The phone was handed to the officer who was clueless as to the level of power and sway the Judge held. The officer came in swinging. He was yelling before the phone even came close to his ear. “This white man hit me…he knocked me down…he assaulted a Liberian Police Officer…he ran me down with that NGO car…it doesn’t matter, he assaulted a Liberian Police officer.” All of the police officers once again exuded their embarrassment; they could not hide it.
The traffic chief then went into the depot and pleaded with the officer to just this once act rationally. I looked over and smiled. There was my man Vannie holding out his hand patiently in front of the man just waiting for his license to be handed over. After some coaxing the transaction was made and Vannie and I left without having to pay a dollar for this inconvenience. As we were leaving the belligerent officer yelled at us, “I will get you next time! You white man who assaulted a Police Officer. You will pay!”
Postscript:
I suppose I did not reach my goal of not talking with the LNP again. I need to set more attainable goals in the future. I found it humourous that the day this happened the government has began issuing guns to the Liberian National Police as a means of serving and protecting the people. I am just hoping that they do not give any to the traffic police.
Be well wherever life finds you,
Marcel
Comments
While I'm sorry you have to go through all of this, know that the frustration and stress you experience is at least entertaining for some of us at home! Glad you made it out of this one too!
Kath (used to be Janzen)
However, I feel obliged to respond to your most recent blogs regarding your encounter with the Liberia National Police traffic officers. In your first encounter with the Police you stated that the police requested a fee from you so that he may be able to prosecute Peter in a court of law. I believe the proper thing to have done under the circumstances was to complain to a higher authority. This would have put you in a better position to test the integrity of the LNP. Instead you indicted the entire LNP on the conduct of a single officer. There are corrupt police officers throughout the world even in the USA where I reside but I don't indict the entire NYPD based on the performance of one or two officers.
In my opinion, during the second encounter with the police your judgement was based on prejudice and stereotype. The police may not have modern equipment to investigate accident but that does not imply that the blackboard method is inefffective this traditional method ofinvestigation was used by Police Officers in the world prior to the introduction of modern technology. If you were not satisfied with the procedure, you should have sought redress through the traffic court.
I belive like any institution in the world the LNP is no exception to corrupt practices but there are also trained and highly professional officers in the LNP.
There are good cops and bad cops. The best way to get rid of the buy guys is to allow them to face their accuser in a court of competent juridiction.In the western or developed world, police corruption is done "professionally".
Let me share with you an encounter that I witnessed. My brother was charged with traffic violation in the USA. Knowing very well he was not guilty as charged, he told the Police officer"see you in court". Guess What!!! The citation was sent to an incorrect address. After investigation, it was discovered that the action by the police was deliberate. My brother did not indict the entire police force based on the action of a single officer. He tested the crminal justice system and he prevail. In the future, I would suggest you use this approach.
Finally, please give your license to a police officer anytime it is requested. That's the law. The next time it might not be a traffic police officer who is grossly disrespected by the driving public. I am not suggesting that you disrespected the officer.
Marcel, have a nice stay in Liberia.
Ben.