ARRESTED DEVELOPMENT worker

12.5.2008

Well folks. It finally happened. I got ARRESTED!

What should have been a quick and easy trip to the gas station turned into police curruption and imprisonment.....here's how it went down:

The power was out in my neighborhood (big surprise) and my mother asked me and my friend Cheikh to run to the gas station across the street to pick up some gas for a generator. You see, it's almost time for the HUGE holiday of Tabaski and my mom has a tailor shop that has been nothing but busy making new clothes for the holiday. Without electricity she can't run the sewing machines and can't finish all the orders. I digress. Cheikh and I went across the street and purchased the gas. While we were walking back we were stopped by some guy who clamied to be the police after quickly flashing this tiny "ID card" at me. He asked for my ID which of course I didn't have. He immediatly grabbed me by the back of my pants and started dragging me to this van. If you are thinking this sounds shady and that he's probably not a cop, I was thinking the same thing. Being the smart American I am, I asked to see his ID again which he flashed in front of my face while still dragging me. The brief seconds I had to look at it showed that it had no photo and looked like a 3rd grader made it on microsoft paint. It had water stains that made the text virtually unreadable; minus the big rainbow colored "POLICE" at the top. When he shoved it back in his pocked I told him I needed to read it and he started yelling at me that no, I do not need to see his ID. My poor friend Cheikh had no idea what to do and just followed behind us worried. The "cop" literally threw me into the back of the van with about 15 other handcuffed "bad guys" and refused to answer my questions. I began talking to my fellow "inmates" and learned that we were being taken to the station down the street if we didn't pay them off. I had no money on me and even if I had, I wouldn't have even considered giving it to these corrupt cops. I tried mimeing to Cheikh to run home and get my ID but I guess my mimeing skills have gone down hill since I took that class way back in college because he didn't get the message. I secretly pull out my phone (thank God I had credit) and called our country director and our security guy who kept telling me to try and get ahold of someone at the house to get my ID. I called my mom (senegalese mom) who couldn't hear her phone over the sewing machines. I called Adji (she lives with us) and tried to explain what was happening. Her response was "Who is this?! Matar? Matar who?". After calling her three more times she finally realized what was going on. "Go in my room and get my ID, I'm having problems with the police" She is shocked but instead of getting my ID she just says, "ok, I'll tell mama". Real helpful, thanks. I hang up my phone and realize that Cheikh is gone. As I'm sitting in the van the police start arguing with a woman they just threw in the van. She is holding tightly to her baby and trying to explain something to the cops when they hit her. Everyone in the van quickly tells her to sit down and be quiet; for her own sake. I find out she had just bought a phone that was stolen, so the cops handcuff her to the guy who sold it to her and threw them both in the van. I realize that I'm sweating and turn to the guy sitting next to me and say, "it's hot in here," to which he laughs. I tell him this is stupid and that I just live across the street. He realizes that he has seen me and I have come into his bakery before. Next thing I know there is a loud woman towering over one of the officers, her voice booming with authority. It's my mom and Cheikh is standing next to her smiling. No one messes with my mom. NO ONE. Next thing I know, the officer walks up to the van and calls out, "Matar?" I respond and he waves for me to get out. I say good bye to my locked up friends and exit the scorchingly hot van. My mom let's out a loud, "MY SON!" as she embraces me. She grabs my arm and we begin walking through the crowd back home. I turn back facing the officers and let out a quite "assholes!". I know it's not mature but it made me feel a little better at the time. Plus, they don't speak english, so what's the harm?

I put my arm around Cheikh and say thank you. He must have ran home to get my mom. As we are walking back my mom explains that around this time of year the police are especially corrupt. Everyone is preparing for Tabaski and part of the preparation requires every muslim family to buy a Ram to kill. Apparently the police just go around in civilian clothes and round up as many people as they can for stupid things like not having ID on them. If the prisoners can pay them money they will let them go. If they can't, they spend the night in a crowded cell and release them the next day. I asked my mom if she had to pay the bribe. "Of course not!" she replied with a huge smile.

This is not the first time I have had shady dealings with the police. Seeing them beat the crap out of innocent people at a soccer game is right up there on the list. The corruption is enraging. What's even more difficult to deal with is the helplessness that comes with not trusting the police. I guess you just learn to trust your friends and family because in the end, they are the ones who you can really depend on to get you out of a tight spot.

*sidenote* Though i don't mention the peace corps response in detail, they were EXTREMELY helpful in the situation as well. My mom just happened to be in closer proximity. So don't be thinking I'm not taken care of by the PC. Those guys got my back and I trust them with my life.