Negotiating our first blatant bribe to Ghana's finest

Last Monday, we were stopped by a 'traffic warden' in Accra and ended up paying the first blatant bribe I have paid (I have paid many implicit bribes – some knowingly, others unknowingly). After crossing the intersection, there was a police officer and a gaggle of 'traffic wardens' (young aspiring police officers in training) waving and pointing at us. We pulled over. A young female warden came up and explained that because I had changed lanes just before the intersection she needed to take me to the station. 

We talked briefly, then she insisted that she get in the car and drive with us to the station. As we drove, she explained that she would need to book me at the station and that I would have to return for a court appearance the next day. I realized very quickly what was going on: There was no way to dispute her claim – that I changed lanes within 15 meters – trying to make the case got no where…and I knew she was setting herself up to be paid off.

I decided to change tack and asked where she was from – Navrango. “Oh, we just drove through your home town.” One minute of small chat later she started to warm up a bit…and I thought she might be more reasonable. I pulled off to the side of the road and asked if there’s anything we could do to avoid going to court. She said, “What do you have in mind? I want to help you because you have been to my home town, but what can you do?” I remembered a tip I once read that the best way to offer a bribe is present it as a contribution to the police force to help cover uniforms or patches or school outreach programs, etc. “How about this: I’ll give you 40 cedis as a contribution to the Ghanaian Police for uniforms or school programs.” She said, “Too small.” “Ok, how about 60 cedis?” She countered: “Give me 100 cedis, 20 for me and 80 for the Police force. At this point, the bribe became explicit. She wasn’t dancing around anything. She wanted money. We ended up at 80 cedis, 20 for her (yeah, right). I paid and she got out of the car.

I felt a very strange mix of emotions after paying this $35 bribe. Heather and Hannah were livid. I was upset with the situation too, but also relieved…$35 is a small price to pay to avoid all the hassles she could have created for me/us. I felt violated, but also savvy. I wondered if I should also feel shame for paying a bribe or embarrassment for paying what might have been too high a price.

We were close to the US Embassy - and both Heather and I thought about driving her there and telling her that our friend would be right out to talk to her, but she probably would have just dug in. The problem with this kind of petty police corruption is that it is triggered by a traffic violation that, while debatable and itself petty, nonetheless appears in Ghanian law. I don’t know the details, but it may well state that a person changing lanes within 15 meters of an intersection indeed has to appear in court…in which case she was just doing her job. The bribe is simply a payment for the cop to not do her job…in response to a threat to do it. But it all begins with opportunistic rather than consistent law enforcement. 

As a post-script, a few days later in Kpong I shared this story with our iLiNS enumerators there…they predicted every turn of events. They especially wanted to  know how much I paid. When I told them 80 Gh cedi, they said, “That’s too much!” “How much would you pay?” “At least 50, maybe more.” I didn’t feel too badly about the price after this exchange. It is striking, however, how predictable the system is…they knew exactly how it was all going to play out as soon as I started the story.

Frustrating on many levels…but also fascinating as a development economist. The experience showcased not only how entrenched petty corruption can be but HOW it becomes entrenched and tough to change. The young warden - probably barely over 20 years old - was learning how to succeed as a Ghanaian Police Officer. In her own way, she has a promising career ahead of her - doing what generations of officers before her have perfected: Getting paid by people to not enforce the law while the government pays her to enforce the law. 

Pics from the Trip: Part I - Mole National Park

While these photos are a small memory book of our most recent trip, the most-prized pictures are seared in our minds - fleeting snapshots of beauty, happiness, sorrow, survival, determination and awe - and unfortunately can never be shared except by pen or voice, and then only to be seen in your mind as you create the scene yourselves. Until that day, we hope you enjoy these moments

Misty early morning start.

Lush tropical vegetation of southern Ghana.

So much can be said, but probably shouldn't.

Typical mud huts. Yes, families really live (happily!) like this.

On the final road to Mole National Park - the pot-hole-iest road I've ever been on. We're about to be sandwiched by two buses coming full speed toward us. As they passed by the passengers inside looked like popcorn in hot oil. We got the giggles like crazy.

I marvel at the women here. Carrying everything (including the kitchen sink! in urban areas, or course) on their heads.  They're strength is utterly astounding. My favorite are the bundles of sticks (branches, really) or trunks of trees they carry on their heads....for miles. 

For our birding friends.

Our great safari guide, Jacobo, after helping us cross a stream.

Monkeys!

Warthogs abound in this park. Notice how they get lower to the ground to scavenge.

Baboons - love the expression on his face.  "Huh?"

More for our birding friends - yes, Ghana is a birders paradise.

Bee-eaters

Dignified.

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Proof of Elephants!

But we missed them by a day~

Safari en route - grasses were quite high (8-10 ft)

Gorgeous African sunset - (sorry it's through the car window)

Baboons - hands down my absolute favorite. 

Nick and Sara - our safari friends for 3 days - from UK. Great people!

Mother and fawn - bush buck

bush buck - adolescent.

I almost got this pre-Halloween trick in my hair!

The tse-tse flies were on crack. Every black spot you see in this pic (and the thousands you don't) are tse-tse flies. They had our car surrounded and getting out to look at things became a regular circus. I never, in my life, thought I would use the word vicious to describe a fly.

Millipede - not necessarily on the must-see safari list, but impressive length nonetheless.

More for our birding friends.

The Panty Thief

"Sista Heatha?! Sista Heatha?! Sista Heatha!" Charity is hollering at me. She is seated outside on the west side of the house in the shade doing laundry - a big pile of it. I stop what I'm doing immediately and hustle outside, the urgency in her voice nagging at me. As I approach her, I see her scrubbing the laundry and peering out of the corner of her eyes, over her shoulder at a scene across the yard - a complete 'show-down'.

"You betta watch out, Sista Heatha!" she says to me.
"Why? What's going on?" I ask.
"She's stealing laundry. That young one ova' there." I peer over at the scene which now includes two of our neighborhood security, two women, and two additional male neighbors.
"What did she steal?" I'm curious, and feeling a little bad about it.
"Panties" said Charity. (Phew. What a relief. I think.).

What I witnessed next was as close to a 'public-shaming' in real-life as I think/hope to ever be privy to. The woman who caught her stealing had chased her down, yelling, "If you don't stop, I'll call the police." (Well, heck, I can out-run you, so why would I stop?!) She stopped - still not sure why. Anyway, the woman who caught her had the young thief's hands and her shirt in a vice grip in front of her chest and was dragging her around the neighborhood telling everyone what had happened. The security guards followed along at a distance waiting for it to take it's course. When they arrived at our home, Charity was up and ready to hear all of it. The telling, which took place in rapid Fante (of which I caught very little) was filled with so much body language I think I understood every last detail. Charity contributed with many shocked faces, hands on hips, mouth and eyes open wide and lots of noises that sounded like "I can NOT believe this happened! No! It's impossible! It can't be true! You really say so?!"

To top off the public shaming, a different neighbor carried the stolen goods in what looked like a small urn. At each house, after the telling of the tale, he would pull out, one by one, each stolen item. A small pair of panties, a pair of boxer-shorts and a bra. A tsk, tsk would be shared, and a dire warning of "Always watch your laundry!"  After the final house, she was then taken to the head of security - I have yet to hear of her fate from the 'officials'. Frankly I think she learned her lesson from what I witnessed.

I'm not sure who should be more embarrassed, the woman who stole, or the people who had their underwear carted around the neighborhood in an urn only to be displayed at each house as evidence of  criminal activity, and then submitted to the chief of security for 'processing'.

Rock holds his own

We just wrapped up a pretty remarkable school week - some real highs and lows. I look forward to reading Heather's, Hannah's and Rockwell's blogs on the week!

One quick highlight: Rock has struggled with all the attention he gets at school, from boys and girls. The first few weeks here, he relished it...soaked it up...sought it out. Now that he's experienced more than the rest of us how they express curiosity with a very different sense of personal space, it can really bug him. This especially comes out at school with the very physical horsing around that happens during 'breaks.' Breaks are when the teachers take a break from the kids and the classroom transforms into Lord of the Flies for 30 minutes.

Wednesday evening Rock told me about a kid that tried to choke him during one of these 'breaks'. Turns out to be a kid from church...a kid who has tried to choke him there too (you know, by surprising him from behind with his arm around Rock's neck). "What did you do?" "I pushed him away and told him to stop."

The next morning as I was walking him down the red dirt trail that we take as a short cut from Hannah's school to his: "If that kid tries to choke you again, what'll you do, Rock?" "I don't know...what do you think I should do?" "I think you should put the hurt on him. He needs to know you don't like it when he does that."

By evening, I had forgotten about this Q&A. I was running a few minutes late because Rock's SI Kids was taking FOREVER to download on my Galaxy. I called. He answered. "Hey, Rock, I'm just trying to get your Nov issue downloaded. It might take 5-10 minutes longer, then I'll be home." "Dad, don't worry about that, just come home." He was really anxious for me to come home...I could hear it in his voice.

"Dad, Dad, Dad...so you know that kid that tries to choke me? Yeah, well he did it again...and I really put the hurt on him!" "Really!? What did you do?" He then proceeded to show me a move that he must have seen in a movie somewhere. "I bent forward and lifted him up on my back, then gave him a hard elbow to the kidney!" I was impressed...sounded painful. "What did the kid do?" "Oh, he walked slowly to the washroom. But then later he tried to be my friend."

When Rock putting the hurt on a kid at school is a highlight for the week, it says something profound about our week at school.