I was just mugged by the Kenyan Police

We were getting off a motorcycle taxi (called a boda boda in Kenya) at about 1 pm this afternoon, when two regular middle-aged guys (Andrew later said they smelled of liquor, but I didn’t notice) came at our driver (who really was a very young man). One of the guys grabbed the motorcycle keys out of the ignition and the other held up a set of handcuffs and said something about ‘your coming with us’.

It was a busy street and we had been three on the motorcycle (which is why we had got off there….to catch a proper taxi). Everyone who was going about their Saturday business, just stopped and looked on.

But not me – I said “who the fuck are you” to the aggressive dude who was all up in my face, as I got off the bike. Then I continued in real shock “what are those? Hand cuffs?” He said “this is not about you its him” and pointed to the poor little driver. I repeated my question and said something like “NO Way! What the hell did he do? Why should I let you pick on him?” It had crossed my mind that he was a murderer or something – but then I began to realize that this is a police state and they are just being bullies to the weak (especially if there is a white person about to pay them money – presumably I have 20,000 Kenya shillings, about $200 in my back pocket with which to bribe them)

The guy said “We are policemen.” But I didn’t care or believe him. I said something like “So I’m supposed to let you handcuff him. I don’t think so.”

“I don’t believe you are policemen.” I continued “Show me your badge. You are just thugs. I’m taking a picture” and I went for my phone.

He pulled out his pocket ID that said he was with the Kenya National Police and asked me not to take a picture. “Are you satisfied?”

“NO what the hell did he do wrong?” By this time the passers by were heavily on my side (actually I think they were protecting the foreigner), talking about corruption in Swahili. “Why should I let you handcuff our driver?” Somewhere in my highly triggered brain though, it was beginning to dawn on me that when the police are involved, I had promised Andrew to let him do the talking in his polite and submissive manner because I have increased the bribe amounts in the past by being bitchy and trying to take pictures.

I repeated “what did he do wrong?”

Mr Policeman said “he was driving without a helmet” as another boda boda passed with no helmet and no trouble. It was clearly because a white passenger meant money. So, I walked away in a huff to the shade by the side of the street.

Andrew said “I’ll deal with this as he, the ‘plain clothes cops’ and the boda boda driver walked to bike out of the intersection.”

But the policeman followed me into the shade first and said “are you Italian” I told him “no American” and he said – oh that is why you are rude. I should have said ‘not as rude as to carry handcuffs around’ but I just turned around and faced the wall until he headed off with his partner.

The regular citizens were mad though too. They said stuff like “They may not even be cops. Don’t pay them anything” “They harass us all the time.” “Corruption is so bad these days” But none of us talked about Kenya’s new thug in chief! It might have been a perfect opportunity. But I just stood fuming in the shade of a butcher shop for a couple of minutes before I noticed two little kids sitting further away, lower down, but still in the shade and I sat next to them.

I sat there trying to be inconspicuous (not an easy task for a white woman in Kawangware) but long enough time passed that I started getting scared that they had taken Andrew off with the kid and his bike.

So I went to call Andrew and noticed that my phone was exploding with my family’s encounters with corruption in Ethiopia – more expensive as it turned out – but much less violent.

Andrew answered my cell phone call briefly, and said he was dealing with them, and I should just wait where I was. So I did. Now I was calming down and the eyewitnesses were going on about their business. It occurred to me that I held no currency and didn’t speak the language – so I didn’t want any more trouble.

By the time Andrew returned about ten minutes later, he had bargained the corrupt cops down to only 15 dollars, (the community outcry had helped). The boda boda driver even got to take his bike home, and he gave us a sincere thank you as he left. He looked very shaken up.

Andrew tells me this happens all the time – that the drivers often need to pay 20,000 Kenya shillings to get their bikes back (and remember their daily take home pay is more like 1000KSh) But let me tell you – working class Kenyan citizens have had enough! It is time for a general strike!