I must say that as a whole, I am not a fan of the police force. The few encounters I have had with these gentlemen have not been pleasant ones, and that is a fact. I can remember
- Running into a patrol of three cops just after Loita street. I spent an uncomfortable two hours accompanying my new friends as they patrolled the city carrying an enormous G3 (one of the cops confessed that he was tired of carrying it) while another cop grabbed the back of my neck in a vice like grip
- Running into a pair of cops on Moi Avenue and their two dogs. This time I spent over ten minutes saluting them. Then I had to salute the cops
- Doing my best to hide in those cracks between concrete slabs as cops pursuing some crooks came in my direction. Notions like firing in the air were at some point in time foreign concepts to our gallant boys in blue. If crooks were running North, the cops saw no reason not to fire North
- Lying face down in unbelievably filthy ground as I was an unwilling participant of a Police search for weapons in PSV vehicles
Of all my encounters I’ve generally tended to get escape nights as a guest of Moody Awori by pulling Koffi Annan type diplomatic haggling. Championing your rights to our local officers, or being a smartass is generally a confession to being Drunk And Disorderly.
However there was once, and only once when the Gods of Fate were on my side. After an extremely lousy day, punctuated by the search above, I arrived home in an uncharacteristically foul mood. And I remember descending from the shuttle straight into the arms of two waiting policemen.
COP1: Ehe! Kijana!
COP2: Ehe?! Umetoga wapi?
M: KRRRKKKMMTTZZZ! Nimetoka hapo!!!! (Jerking thumb over shoulder and indicating shuttle)