Chapter 1
No Right Turn
It was the end of school day at Sokoni Road Primary School. Baati, a final year pupil, was standing by the school gate waiting for her father to pick her up and take her home. She was thirteen years old. Her school bag hung over her shoulder. It was pretty heavy because it was full of books for her homework.
Baati kept on looking at her watch impatiently then at the clean road that stared at her. Her father, Mr Boru, was late. She shifted positions and placed the school bag on the ground at her feet. Before long, she saw the family car, a white Toyota saloon.
Mr Boru stopped a few feet away from her. Father gave daughter a broad smile and opened the back door for her from inside. This kind of generosity was his way of asking for forgiveness whenever he was late. He knew that as a candidate, his daughter had a lot of homework and extra studies to do at home.
“You are very late today, Dad,” she said as she got into the car.
“Yes, I am sorry. There is such heavy traffic today,” said Boru.
“Is there?”
“Yes, it is quite bad. I hope I will find a way out on our way home.”
Baati sank into the comfort of the back seat. She put her school bag beside her, buckled the safety belt, kicked off her shoes and sat back.
Boru had not driven far before he was caught in a traffic jam. He waited patiently for some time. Some matatus went past his car, overtaking him by the side path as they forced the tired pedestrians away. Others overlapped on the wrong side of the road reserved for the on-coming vehicles.
“What are the matatu drivers doing, Dad? They have no road courtesy at all,” said Baati.
“Very few people are disciplined when it comes to driving on a busy road like this one,” added his father.
“They do not mind about other road users.”
Everybody on the road seemed to be in a rush. Even Boru could be seen tapping at the steering wheel with his fingers. Impatience was taking a toll on him. Inside the car, it was getting hot. Both Baati and Boru began to sweat. The cooling system was not working and they were forced to use their handkerchiefs to wipe away the sweat. They did not want to lower their windows because vehicles outside were emitting so much smoke that it could give Boru a headache. Besides, highway thieves could easily pick anything they saw in the car, even school books.
While they sat in the traffic jam, Baati got bored and wanted something that could keep her busy. Playing a game on a mobile phone was her favourite pass time. She borrowed her father’s mobile phone and started playing games. Little by little they inched along until they came at a NO RIGHT TURN sign on the left hand side of the road.
“I really feel like turning right to get out of this traffic jam,” said Boru.
“But Dad, it is clear that you can’t turn right. The traffic police will definitely arrest you if you do that,” said Baati.
“I can’t see them today. I will take the risk,” he said.
“But Dad….”
Before she could speak, he had swerved the car and turned right. He was narrowly missed by an oncoming vehicle. It was a dangerous move and Baati screamed involuntarily. All her being was terrified.
“That was a close shave but I made it!” said Boru as he congratulated himself for being a good driver.
Just then, a traffic policeman appeared in the middle of the road they had turned into. He waved the car to a stop. This was not expected at all.
Boru pulled to the side of the road, lowered the window and looked at the policeman. He wore his rank and name tag on his well pressed blue uniform. He was a sergeant.
As he bent down to talk to her father, Baati was filled with a mixture of fear and impatience. She had plenty of homework to complete and a diary to fill with the day’s events. She knew that Mr Batu, the English teacher, would want to mark this work before they moved on to a new topic. She always wanted to do her work in a unique way and this incident was going to delay her.
‘This could be an opportunity for my diary to be the best,’ she thought. Then she had an idea. She could keep a record of this evening by taking photographs. Her father’s smart phone could take very good pictures. One by one she clicked the camera.
“You took a wrong turn, sir,” the policeman began.
“Didn’t you see the NO RIGHT TURN sign?”
“I saw it, Sergeant.”
“Then why did you turn right?”
“I could not move ahead because of the traffic. I had spent a long time and ….. you see Sergeant, it is so hot in here. Besides, I am taking my daughter home. She is in her final year in school and has so much homework to do. I just wanted to get her home quickly.”
“That makes it even more serious,” said the policeman. “You have endangered your daughter’s life with such a dangerous turn, not to mention the lives of other road users.”
The policeman pulled a pad from his shirt pocket.
“I have to charge you with dangerous driving,” he told Boru, as he scribbled something on the pad. “You are under arrest, sir!”“Sergeant, I admit that I am in the wrong. I made a serious mistake. Please accept my apologies,” Boru pleaded.
“I’m afraid this is more than just a mistake. It’s a grave traffic offence,” the policeman said.
“Your driving licence please?” the policeman ordered.
Baati lowered her side of the car window and watched the scene with keen interest. She had many times heard that there were citizens who bought their freedom from the police whenever they were caught breaking the law. She however, believed in her father. He was not that kind of a person who gave bribes. He always advised Baati and all his family members to be honest and truthful in life.
‘The policeman will harass him and I know he will not give in even if the officer asks for some money. This sergeant has got a difficult nut to crack today,’ Baati thought, as she watched and silently took a close up of the sergeant’s face and midriff.
‘With this good photograph I will be able to remember you in my English book,’ Baati smiled as she congratulated herself for the good work.
“You have more than twenty years driving experience and you still make such a mistake on the road,” the sergeant spoke angrily.
“Sergeant, please understand….” Boru continued to plead.
“I have to take you to the police station. You deserve to be jailed for a few years so that you may learn to obey the law,” the sergeant said as he attempted to open the door of the car.
“Please Sergeant, let me take my daughter home first. I shall then report to the police station,” Boru pleaded sympathetically.
“I may not see you again. What makes you think that I can trust you?” asked the sergeant with anger in his voice.
“I am a good citizen. You have no reason not to trust me.”
“Good citizens obey the highway code. How can I trust someone who doesn’t?”
Boru got out of the car. He was not comfortable that all this was going on in the presence of his daughter. He took several steps away from the car holding the sergeant by the hand. Before they were far enough from the car, the policeman wiggled his hand from Mr Boru’s and held him by the waist. He started pulling him in the direction of a police Land Rover that was parked nearby.
“Please sergeant, don’t hurt me. I didn’t know that by taking that turn, I would be threatening people’s lives. Forgive me officer,” Boru pleaded.
“What you have done is very dangerous and you should be jailed so that you can learn,” the officer threatened while menacingly removing a pair of handcuffs from his side pocket with his left hand.
Baati began to detest the policeman when her father almost tripped. From the manner in which he was handling him, the policeman had no respect for people. ‘My father is not a robber. Only robbers and murderers should be handcuffed,’ Baati said to herself as tears clouded her eyes.
After a while, the two men seemed to be getting calm and started to talk to each other in a respectful manner. Baati did not want this chance of experimenting with technology to pass unutilized. She switched on the video camera on the mobile phone and filmed the two. She could see her father take out his wallet from the back pocket of his trousers and pull out a five hundred shillings note. He passed it on to the policeman. The policeman took it, raised his hat with one hand, pushed the note under it with the other hand and pulled the hat down firmly. Almost immediately, Boru was back in the car and they drove off.
“Daddy, what happened when you went to talk to the policeman?” Baati asked.
“I gave him some money,” her father was very sincere with her.
“You gave him money? How much?”
“Five hundred shillings.”
“Five hundred shillings! Why did you give him so much money? Why did you give him any money at all?”
“For him to let us go,” replied her father. “We have had enough of the traffic jam and there he was, giving me more headaches and threatening me.”
“Did he ask for it?”
“Yes, he did.”
“He wanted us to go to the nearest police station, Dad,” said Baati.
“Oh, Baati, that would be a never ending story… statements, courts, endless postponement of the case, a heavy fine, jail sentence and all that. It would cost more than what I paid the sergeant.”
“Dad that was bribery in broad daylight!”
“He asked for it. What could I have done?” answered Boru.
“Is he not paid a salary, Dad?”
“He is.”
“Then why did you give him your money?”
“My dear, I had to get you home! I have to be free so that I can take care of you, your mother and your siblings.”
They sat quietly for some time and then her father asked, raising his voice in anger. “Why are you asking so many questions anyway?”
They drove all along in silence.
