The unforeseen costs of visiting Mozambique

MAPUTO LETTER: A climate of corruption reigns among police in this otherwise relatively safe African city

SINCE ARRIVING in southern Africa in 2005, I have been fortunate enough to visit Mozambique on three occasions, with my last visit only one month ago.

This impoverished country has come a long way since the brutal civil war between its Frelimo government and Renamo rebels ended in the early 1990s, especially in terms of economic growth and attracting foreign investment.

However, during each visit, I have had the unfortunate experience of encountering police officers whose sole reason for stopping me was to elicit a bribe.

On one such occasion, in Maputo in 2007, while travelling with an Irish friend Thomas Byrne, what transpired played out like a scene from one of those old Keystone Kopsmovies.

While driving a South African- registered car along Avenida Julius Nyerere next to Maputo Bay early one evening, we noticed an open-top truck with flashing sirens behind us driving erratically as it followed us around each bend.

The vehicle, which had about 10 armed police hanging off its rear cab, forced us off the road. As we screeched to a halt, our car was surrounded by policemen pointing machine guns in our direction.

An officer accompanied by one of his superiors casually stood by my window. He wanted " documentos".

I showed him my driving licence and a copy of my passport – one should always leave your passport in a safe place and carry a photocopy — to which he responded that the photocopy was insufficient.

“You may be an illegal alien sir, you must accompany us to the police station where you will pay a fine before being released,” he said.

Could I talk the officer into allowing me to retrieve my passport from my hotel so I could show him my valid entry visa? Not on your life.

“How much is the fine?” I asked. “100,” he responded.

“Meticais [the local currency – $1 equals 30 Meticais],” I inquired hopefully.

“Dollars,” he said tersely.

After haggling a little more I negotiated the “fine” down to a $30 on-the-spot payment and, upon handing the money over, the officer gave his superior half of the sum; he pocketed the rest.

Following my first two encounters, I thought my experiences with the Mozambican police were just unfortunate twists of fate, but a report released by Amnesty International last month has made my assumption seem very naive.

If the level of corruption detailed in the report is a reflection of how law-abiding its police force is in general, then Mozambican society has some way to go before it gets the type of law enforcement it deserves.

The report outlines in detail cases of individuals who have suffered outrageous brutality and injustices at the hands of Mozambique’s boys in blue.

If the story of Augusto Cuvilas, a dancer and choreographer shot and killed by police in December 2007, is an accurate reflection of how police handle their civic duties, then one should think twice about turning to the authorities for help.

Cuvilas heard suspicious noises outside his house on the night of December 22nd and thought burglars were trying to break in. As one would expect, he called the police.

Upon their arrival, the police opened fire indiscriminately with semi-automatic rifles, killing Mr Cuivias and his guard.

When Cuivias’s wife tried to institute a case against the officers involved, the police tried to manipulate her statement to say the killings had been a mistake. To date neither of the officers involved in the incident has been charged.

The human rights group has accused the police of killing with impunity 46 people since 2006; in many instances the deaths appeared to have been extrajudicial executions.

The Amnesty report concluded: “Unlawful killings have been carried out with near impunity in Mozambique.

“The authorities have failed to carry out their duty to bring perpetrators to justice . . . [and] appear to have allowed or encouraged obstacles to be placed in the way of families pursuing justice.”

The Mozambican police have rubbished the allegations, saying Amnesty is biased against them.

While the allegations are at the extreme end of the scale of police injustices, the more I talk to Mozambicans, the more a climate of corruption and impunity appears to be common amongst rank-and-file officers as well.

When visiting Maputo, an African city safer than most, the advice offered by guide books and foreign governments seems standard enough.

In the same instance as warning travellers about petty crime, they also suggest people to watch out for police officers intent on extracting bribes.

When you think about it, though, mentioning petty crime and police corruption in the same breath in fact encapsulates how endemic the latter malaise really is.

The righteous among you may suspect my reasoning is an attempt to justify my own willingness to facilitate the bribery process, and that my actions make me, partially at least, the architect of my own misfortune. While this is probably the case, my choice was without doubt the lesser of two evils. An African jail is one of the last places you want to end up. Everyone knows that. Especially the police.