100 Traffic Stops

One of the things Sally and I have learned to deal with here are the police. There are police posts at every major intersection in Kampala. There are “security” checkpoints every few kilometers on major roads. There are impromptu checkpoints that just “pop up” around Kampala. And there are the officers that stand on the side of the road, waving people over, just a few meters from our house.

In short, we get stopped, checked, waved over or contacted all the time.

In the US, officers need an articulable reason to stop you, like a traffic violation, suspicious activity or suspected criminality.

Ugandan police officers do not need a reason to stop you. They can – and often do – simply wave cars over seemingly at random. The government would say that the police are proactively ensuring that the roadways are safe and that everyone has the correct licenses and paperwork. I wish I believed that.

Our friends who are diplomats have special license plates. The police completely ignore them. Same for the thousands of “government” cars with special plates. Folks who drive those cars can’t even fathom being stopped by the police all the time.

But not us.

In the time we have been here, we have been pulled over at least 100 times (Sally would guess 200). I’m not kidding. Yesterday, Sally got pulled over twice in less than a kilometer by officers that already knew her because they had stopped her dozens of times before.

There is no point in getting mad, even if you just finally got around the massive, diesel-spewing, truck you had been stuck behind for 15 minutes, only to watch it go by as you pull to the left at the officer’s instruction.

The officer comes up to your window. Sometimes they will accuse you of VERY dangerous/reckless/careless driving as they ask for your license. Sometimes they will check your insurance card, which is stuck to the inside of the windshield. Sometimes they will smile and ask “how are you?” or “how are you finding Uganda?” or “how is your day going?” Sometimes they will say they are cold. Or hungry. Or that they have not had any tea today, or lunch. They might ask you to “sponsor” their weekend or evening. Or talk about their children’s school fees. Most every time, they are looking for money.

Sally and I have never paid a bribe during one of these stops. We have been asked. Officers have threatened to impound the car or take our international licenses. They have kept me at the scene for 20-30 minutes turning the screws, hoping for some shillings. So far, we have escaped with our wallets (if not our dignity or our schedules) intact.

Some of our more memorable interactions with “Uganda’s Finest”:

• We were driving across town on deserted, Saturday morning roads with our trunk open and a large piece of furniture hanging out the back of the car with the rear door up. After the police frantically waved me over, I was informed that I was breaking the law because our car was only licensed to carry 5 people. I pointed out that there were only 2 people in the car. Motioning toward the furniture, the officer said, “That’s more than 5 people.” When I volunteered to leave the piece of furniture with him on the curb (we were actually trying to get rid of it) but asked him for help because it was so heavy, he gave up and waved us along.

• On Valentine’s Day, Sally got pulled over so the officers could (i) wish her Happy Valentine’s Day and (ii) ask her “where is your man?”

• During evening rush hour, Sally was waved over because the officer thought Sally might be Deborah Malac, the previous US Ambassador to Uganda. “You look just like her” the officer commented before waving Sally along. Judge for yourself:

Deborah R. Malac - Deborah R. Malac - Wikipedia

• As we drive down the hill just outside our gate, a group of female officers stands most days. We pass them multiple times daily. The first time they stopped me, during COVID, the head officer wanted me to “sponsor” her weekend. When I didn’t pay up, she indicated that I could not be on the road during COVID because I did not have a “weekend pass.” Playing along, I innocently asked about such a pass (they are not real) and why I had not heard of them before. When she persisted, I started pulling out business cards – Chief Justice, Principal Judge, Ministry of Justice, etc. and innocently said, “Gee, I sure am confused about this whole ‘weekend pass’ deal, which of these people do you think we should call to help answer our questions?” She waved me along.

• When Anna visited, we came to the busiest intersection in the city. Traffic was stopped but an officer completely across the intersection waved Sally through. She complied, only to have a different officer angrily stop her, demanding that she park in the middle of a busy sidewalk. After he yelled, “You broke the rules!” Sally agreed and explained that she would never have gone at that time, except for the instructions from his colleague. “Which officer?” he demanded to know. Sally pointed him out. Moments later, “Angry Officer” returned from an animated discussion with his colleague and, shaking his head, sheepishly said, “You are right, you are free to go.”

• Sally was on her way to our Thursday dinner group when she was stopped and accused of driving “carelessly.” Any of you who drive with Sally know that is ridiculous. After Sally smiled, apologized and asked what, precisely, she did that was so terrible, the officer changed her strategy. She looked down at the casserole dish sitting on the passenger seat and said, “I will just take that.” She relented when Sally casually mentioned that dinner was at a well-known ambassador’s house and the casserole dish was dinner for everyone. Sally was waved along – the casserole still sitting on the front seat.

• Finally, and sadly, I actually got a speeding ticket. Ironically it was in the defender (which barely goes the speed limit) but I came into a town where the speed limit dropped. That time, the officer didn’t want to talk. He asked for my license, walked away for about 90 seconds and returned with a $50 speeding infraction. I’m trying to figure out whether to fight it. My staff tells me that unlike the US, if I lose they can increase the amount of the fine or even plop me in jail.

So far, the fact that we (well, Sally) generally drive conservatively and are pleasant when stopped, has helped us. Plus, we just won’t pay a bribe, it is completely inconsistent with judicial capacity building, the whole reason we are here.

But at some point, I or my car, or both will go to jail for some small violation of the rules of the road. I hope that will be an entertaining, but short, blog post.