Encounters with men in uniform – Part 3

We were driving on the popular Awolowo way in Ikeja. Hubby drove while I sat beside him. We were almost at the bottom of the bridge which led to either Oba Akran or Oba Akinjobi when the officer flagged us down. She signaled that we park and hubby obeyed.

“Good afternoon madam.” Hubby said to her.

“Good afternoon. Can I have your drivers’ license?”

As I opened my wallet, she looked at me and said; “I was talking to him.”

“I know.” I responded. “Is it not his drivers’ license you asked for?” I asked her as I pulled out hubby’s photocopied drivers’ license from my wallet and handed it over to her.

She looked at it and stretched out her hand to give it to him. I collected it from her and put it back in my wallet.

“Can I see your vehicle license and insurance?” She asked.

I breathed deeply as I casually opened the glove box in front of me and brought out the envelope of vehicle documents. I retrieved the needed documents and handed it over to her. She looked at them, then handed them back to me.

“Can I have your tinted permit?”

By this time, I was beginning to wonder when this would be over. I brought out the tint permit and gave it to her.

Her eyes immediately lighted up. “Did you see what was written on it?” She asked.

I looked at her. “Yes, I saw what was written on it. What does it say?” I asked her.

She immediately called the attention of her colleague who was standing a few metres away. She showed the document to her colleague, who looked at it and flicked her hand to let us go.

She handed it back to me and asked us to go.

“Under processing” was boldly written on the permit and it was signed by a senior officer.

How she seemed not to understand what was written on the document is still a wonder to me. It was not written in another language. It was written in English.

As we drove off, hubby told me the same officer had stopped him a week before at the same spot.


One week later, I was driving alone on Medical Road, Ikeja. Same officer decided to flag me down again. She asked for my drivers’ license. I opened my wallet and handed her the photocopied version as usual. She returned it and asked for the vehicle documents.

As I stretched to open the glove box so I could get them out; she said to me. “Madam, be fast.”

I looked at her and said to her. “Since you want to be asking for these documents from me or my husband every week, you will need to be patient so that I can give them to you.”

“Ehen? I don stop you before?”

“This is the third time. Do you still want the documents?” I asked her.

“Don’t worry. You can go. It is well.” She said.

I rolled my eyes as I drove off.

I wonder if we will have a fourth encounter with the same officer. I truly hope not.


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