On a previous
visit to South Africa I had been warned of creeping police corruption, usually low-level stuff but disheartening for anyone who knows the country, and was
alert to the possibility. Maybe too alert.
Early in 2014 we were driving a
section of the Johannesburg-Durban road, near Swaziland, that has frequent changes of speed
limit as it passes between open country and small but scattered local
communities surrounded by commercial forestry plantations.
A traffic cop
appeared on the road. “Hello, sir! Oh,
you are in trouble here!” he said cheerfully, showing me the reading on the radar gun
– 97 in an 80km limit. “You must cross the road to see my sergeant.”
A large sergeant
sat in a picnic chair by the car - well-pressed uniform, gun, shiny shaved head.
- “Eh, this is very bad for you, my
friend. The fine is 500 Rand.”
- “I’m very sorry, I’m not South African and
I’m not used to the roads. No excuse, I
know.” (a bit of a fib as I have been to SA many times and used to live there).
- “Oh, a visitor? Let me see your license and
passport, - ah, British, eh? I should take you to the police station and fill
in many forms, it could take a long time.”
(‘should’? ‘could’? - conditional, need not happen?)
- “That sounds complicated. Is there no other way?”
Narrowed
eyes.
- “What do you suggest?”
(Uh-oh, attempting
to bribe a policeman is certainly a worse offence than speeding).
- “Ooh, I don’t know how stuff works here, I’m
just a tourist.”
- “Maybe I should just fine you here,
eh?” Enigmatic smile.
A long pause – maybe he is also wondering who is going to initiate something we both know neither of us
should be doing. Should I get my wallet
out? Then,
- “Tch. This is all too much trouble just for
a tourist. Just go, but slow down man, hey?”
- “That’s very kind of you, thank you very
much.”
- “I’m a very kind sort of guy, sir, welcome
to South Africa.”
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