Tag: Police

Leaky borders and non-compliance with the rules contribute to making it difficult to police Nigeria’s 4,000-km borders with four countries, writes The Economist

THE drive from Abuja, Nigeria’s capital, to Doula, the biggest city in neighbouring Cameroon, is a 1,320 km (820 mile) rollercoaster ride along dusty highways and muddy jungle tracks replete with bumps, bruises and attempted bribes.

As Baobab and a friend set off in an ancient Land Rover on a Nigerian national holiday, the roads were almost empty, save for the military checkpoints that have become permanent installations since the resurrection in the past two years of a violent Islamist insurgency, which has claimed hundreds of lives this year alone. Soldiers bunker down in nylon tents or huts with corrugated iron roofs on the roadside. Vests and underpants pinned to a clothesline and a few cooking pots piled on the grass are signs of the new domesticity thrust upon soldiers away from their families for months at a time.

The journey from Abuja, where tarmac roads are flanked by pristine hedges, to the balmy rainforests on the southeastern border with Cameroon was regularly interrupted by these checkpoints and a feeling that someone was about to request a bribe. Broaching the first barrier in the early hours of the morning, a soldier sporting a ragged stripy jumper was leaning casually on a barricade of sand-bags jutting into the road, an AK-47 slung over his shoulder. He waved the car down.

How you dey?” he asked, propping his elbow on the window frame. “I dey fine,” Baobab replied. Blood-shot eyes and a leery smile suggested a heavy night. “What do you have for me today?” he asked, peering through the window. “I have a blessing for you.” After a quick calculation he concluded that it was probably not worth messing with the powers above, and he waved us through. We encountered only one serious attempt to extort money at a subsequent checkpoint, and that was quickly resolved by a yoghurt-coated cereal bar.

A week earlier, a Lagos policeman caught extorting money on camera was sacked. The crime is a familiar one to inhabitants of the metropolis, but this time the passenger recorded the policeman trying to extort $160 from him and uploaded the footage on YouTube. It was a rare victory for the scores of drivers who have been bribed by Nigerian police for imaginary traffic offences.

Immigration control at Mfum on the border was a damp hovel. Smoke from wood-burning fires cooking stews and Jollof rice clung to the air. Young boys made transactions through the window of our battered jeep, selling bananas and corn-on-the-cob. A handful of men passed through passport control from Cameroon with no papers or identification. “My aunt lives up the road in the next village,” complemented by a subtle slip of cash, was enough to grant passage. Leaky borders are often cited as one of the contributing factors to Nigeria’s insecurity. When the rules are so easily circumvented, it is hard to see how Nigeria will ever be able to control the 4,000-km border it shares with four countries.

The smooth tarmac road leading to the Cameroonian frontier may lull travellers into a false sense of security. Driving during the rainy season can be a tortuous process. Once over the rickety iron bridge at immigration, a seemingly endless muddy track awaits, worming its way through thick jungle from the border town of Ekok to the next big town, Mamfe, 70km to the east. Deep trenches signal where a new road will, at some point, be built by the Chinese International Water and Electric Board—a project supported by the African Development Bank, the World Bank and the Japanese International Corporation Agency. In the meantime, cars and top-heavy trucks negotiate their way along the crooked track. Many get stuck.

Slow progress resulted in an overnight stay in Mamfe, infamous for witchcraft. An oppressive Catholic Church looms over the main street, which is bustling with traders in fruit, phone cards and sweets. Restaurants, dimly lit by a single light bulb in some cases, have been cobbled together with wooden planks. A waitress at the hotel directed us to the “best” of the makeshift restaurants for a plate of rice and an eye-watering spicy tomato sauce served by a skinny elderly lady in a floral apron.

The refurbished road from Mamfe to Bamenda, further east, is a sign of things to come. What was once a two to four day journey now takes a few hours and the smooth tarmac road has halved the cost of transport. But the region’s roads remain a big problem. So much so that during Cameroon’s election last month, the electoral commission, ELECAM, resorted to dropping campaign material by helicopter in parts of the southwest. It probably made little difference to the election’s outcome. The ruling People’s Democratic Movement, headed by President Paul Biya who has led the country since 1982, retained its control of the national assembly, though with a reduced majority. Corruption remains rife and elections lack credibility, but Cameroonians proudly declare that their country is doing better than most of its conflict-ridden neighbours.

Baobab finally arrived in Douala the following day. Amid the chaotic urban sprawl of honking traffic jams, the quickest, though not always the safest, way to get around is by motorbike. The Marché de Lagos, saturated with people and cheap Chinese goods, resembles its namesake. Women in tight skirts dance energetically to the Nigerian music throbbing through the trendy clubs. “Yaoundé [the capital] sleeps, Douala moves,” say Cameroonians. One way to put their mantra to the test was to request a haircut at 1.30 am. The barman nodded and minutes later a burly Cameroonian dressed in impeccable barber whites arrived, plugging shearers into a socket hanging precariously from the wall by its wires. Baobab’s travelling companion pointed to the neatly shorn head of the barman. The barber nodded solemnly and got to work on his client’s long golden locks