Column: To bribe or not to bribe

Free State traffic policemen talk to motorists on the N3 between Durban and Johannesburg. Picture: Karen Sandison 040115

Free State traffic policemen talk to motorists on the N3 between Durban and Johannesburg. Picture: Karen Sandison 040115

Published Mar 23, 2015

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Durban - There’s that moment on a road trip when you’re on the wide open highway, the scenery isn’t interesting, your co-driver is asleep and you’re bored. So you push a little harder on the accelerator - not intentionally - and suddenly you’re doing 160km/h instead of 120. And before you realise it, you spot what at first looks like a khaki hippo stepping into the road and waving you down.

Then of course you realise that hippos don’t wear khaki and you’ve been “speed trapped” by a traffic cop from some godforsaken town in the Free State. This happened to me last weekend. As I slowed down to meet the ends of justice, I couldn’t help but think of my Uncle Afzal, who has more disdain for traffic cops than anybody I have met. I imagined how he would have shouted hysterically, “There’s the monkey! There’s the monkey!” the moment the cop stepped into view.

That isn’t a racial slur. It’s just Afzal believes traffic cops enjoy hiding in bushes, just like monkeys. And yes, I usually end up explaining this every time Afzal tells a monkey story to strangers. Afzal always has a monkey story. Like fishermen who look for any opportunity to speak about their epic battles with barracuda and swordfish, Afzal will use weddings, funerals and other gatherings to tell tales about how he “spotted a monkey just in time and slowed down”.

It doesn’t take much to get him started either. All you have to do is ask him, “How was your drive from Joburg?”

So going back to my story. My car came to a stop on the side of the road and I watched the traffic officer approach in my rear view mirror. Like all traffic officers, he had a familiar swagger. When a cop pulls you over anywhere else in the world, you reach for your driving licence, but this being South Africa I knew I had to reach for that R50 note. At least that’s what Afzal would insist one should do.

“All they want is a chow,” he would say. “They pull you over because they want you to buy them a chow.”

RHETORICAL QUESTIONS

To be honest, I was never comfortable with the bribery thing. The first time you contemplate bribing a cop, all sorts of thoughts shoot through your mind such as, what if a simple speeding fine suddenly becomes an attempting-to-bribe-an-officer-of-the-law charge? Knowing my luck, I would probably end up trying to bribe the only straight cop left on the face of the planet. My thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the khaki-clad hillbilly at my window.

“Goeie môre,” he said, standing with that little thing that gives a reading of your speed in his hand. “Do you know how fast you was going?” Traffic cops are either fans of rhetorical questions or are genuinely oblivious to the fact that cars are built with speedometers.

“I think I was a little over the limit,” I replied.

“A little?” he retorted, before asking for my licence. The moment had arrived. Do or die. I could either hold the R50 under the licence as I handed it to him or I could be a sissy and take the R1000 fine.

I chose to be a sissy. When I told Afzal about my monkey story he was not impressed.

“So did you at least swear at him?” He has this thing that if he can’t talk, bribe or swindle his way out of a fine he will verbally abuse the traffic cop. “If I’m going to get a R700 fine, I might as well get my money’s worth,” he says.

It’s mostly taunting. He will say stuff like, “Hey, why don’t you go harass the taxi drivers? You scared, isn’t it, because they got AKs!”

Or he’ll say, “Go do real work. Stop giving fines, go sort the crime out!”

I don’t come face to face with traffic cops as often as Afzal does because I spend most of my time in the city, where the parking ticket is already written and placed on your windscreen and the cop is out of sight long before you realise your morning has been ruined.

You don’t get pulled over for speeding in the city either. The fine comes in the mail courtesy of a traffic cop who was sleeping in his van while his “camera” caught you from the bridge nearby. On the odd occasion you do get pulled over in the city, the cops have a pretty obvious “pay as you go” policy. The phrase “make a plan, bru” is likely to get you out of most fines. But knowing when to palm a traffic cop is a tricky business.

HOW TO TELL WHEN A TRAFFIC COP WANTS a BRIBE

Procrastination: He delays writing the fine for no particular reason. He should’ve just written the fine and let you go but instead he’s standing there looking at you with the ticket book in his hand, clicking his pen and saying things like, “Eish, I have to give you a big fine!” but not showing any intention of writing it.

Made-up laws: The traffic cop will suddenly start making up ridiculous laws. He will pull you over for doing 80km in a 60km zone and then try to frighten you by telling you he is going to arrest you and your family and impound your car because the “system” says it’s stolen. He will also make a bunch of fake phone calls.

Step into my office: You’re not drunk and you weren’t doing 200km/h, yet this guy wants you to come to the mobile police station with him. Have your money ready.

Riddles: Traffic cops trying to solicit bribes will often talk in riddles. Listen out for “I have to give you this fine. My supervisor is watching. He saw me pull you over. You know, it’s lunchtime and we’re thinking of grabbing something to eat. And maybe he didn’t see me pull you over.” - Sunday Tribune

Follow me on Twitter: @masoodboomgaard

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