How My Nephew Almost Spoilt Our Wedding Trip To Monze

CAN you remember the last time you’d a brush with the law for breaching road traffic regulations not on your own account, but someone else’s? Simon Mwale and some family members experienced the embarrassing situation twice on the same day on a wedding trip to and from Monze because the driver – a young nephew – did not have a driving license, less so a valid motor vehicle road license. Here’s what happened.

FOR some reason, I missed an earlier family wedding that took place in Kitwe on the Copperbelt in 2012, and so, when I was informed at short notice of another family wedding scheduled to take place in Monze, Southern Province, on December 29, 2012, I decided to atone for my ‘sin.’

In this respect, a scheduled marriage blessing ceremony that I was supposed to attend with my wife on the same day did not matter any more and had to be shelved. All this despite advice from my church elders who asked me to consider priorities, but I explained that if I missed the Monze wedding this time around, pesky family members would not spare me.

But there was a silver lining to my dilemma; another marriage blessing ceremony was already lined up at the church any time soon in March, 2013, which strengthened my resolve to go to Monze.

And so, I joined my elder brother Luckson Mwale and our nephew Andrew Shawa on the trip to attend the wedding of Chad Shawa, elder brother of Andrew, in Monze.

Before departure, we agreed to use young Andrew’s vehicle, a Toyota Corolla. It would be a one day return trip. Like a prophet, I vividly remember asking Andrew whether he had a current and valid driver’s license, knowing the stringent checks at road blocks mounted on high ways by road traffic police officers who have no mercy in impounding defective vehicles and punishing drivers violating the rules and regulations. Andrew assured me he had.

I didn’t bother to quiz him further or ask him to produce it so I could satisfy my curiosity, but took him for his word and we set off for Monze. I wish I’d asked for proof of that license!

We left Lusaka about 11:00 hours and drove past Kafue and Mazabuka incident-free. But just on the outskirts of Mazabuka, as we headed for Monze, we ran into our first stop – the dreaded road block. A police officer pulled by and asked the driver of our vehicle for something, which I didn’t quite catch.

Presently, the officer ordered Andrew to park his vehicle, joining a long queue of other vehicles that had committed one or two or all the breaches the traffic officers were looking for.

The officer then asked the driver to identify his passengers and Andrew told him: “They are my uncles.” What are their names? I quickly answered that I was Simon Mwale, but the officer sharply cut me short and said, “You’re not the driver. I’m asking the driver!” I promptly apologised to the officer for inadvertently being officious and breaking the rules and after Andrew had finished identifying us, the officer requested us to follow him.

Andrew forgot to lock the car and I locked it for him. Andrew’s turn came for questioning and that was when I came to know why he’d been requested to park his vehicle.

“Young man, do you have a driving license?”Andrew replied in the affirmative, but that he did not have it on his person because it’d been confiscated from him by a road traffic police officer in Lusaka sometime back for a traffic offense.

“Do you realise that it’s a very serious offence to drive a motor vehicle without a license?” the officer asked. Before he could answer, the officer asked Andrew which officer had withdrawn his license. I reminded Andrew about my prophetic inquiry about the license in Lusaka and his answer was a casual one: “I thought you were asking me if I was a licensed driver.” Licensed driver, my foot!

Our young driver extricated himself from the group and said he was calling the officer to confirm his claim, but this effort led to nowhere. The police officer went on to pronounce the fine for the offence: K167,000 (KR 167) which he insisted must be paid on the spot, despite our protestations.

Fearing to jeopardise our return trip to Lusaka, we were reluctant to dip into our meagre reserves for refueling the car. We pleaded with the officer to use his discretion and to forgive our erring nephew who was a first offender.

We also suggested that he take Andrew’s particulars so that he could make payment for the offence within one week in Lusaka, but the officer was adamant and flatly turned down our proposal.

Further explanations that Luckson was going to be the family spokesman at the wedding and that our delay or absence could derail the ceremony as there was no one else who could play the role since many family members had not travelled, did not wash up with the officer either.

He then ordered me, who had the car keys, to hand them over, but fortunately, he did not press the matter further. But we were still stuck as we hadn’t paid the fine. The officer left Andrew and continued attending to other motorists. As he did so, Luckson and I stood a few steps behind the ‘arresting’ officer.

In front of us was this female officer who, after dealing with one motorist, started walking towards our direction. I looked at her patronisingly and made up my mind to do the unusual to secure our freedom. When she was within earshot, she said “Good morning, gentlemen. You seem to have a problem. How may I help you?”

“Yes, Madam,” I began, “You know this world is not as flat or round as it may seem.” She smiled, obviously eager for me to break down the parable I’d began. “What do you mean by that?” “You see, one may do something one thinks is straight forward, but another will not see it in the same light,” I said.

She appeared eager to hear more and I capitalised on the situation, explaining that traffic regulations were straight forward, but owing to human frailty, people break the rules wittingly or unwittingly.

I said when people break rules without intention and they apologise to the law enforcers, it is hoped that the law enforcers may examine the circumstances leading to the breach and use their absolute discretion to pardon offenders after reprimanding them.

I went on to explain that we, Luckson, Andrew and I had a problem indeed. The driver had no drivers’ licence; that he had admitted the charge and pleaded for mercy, but that her colleague had given us the cold shoulder.

Could she make a difference by granting us our freedom? The lady told us to wait and walked over to her colleague and returned shortly after talking to him . She brought the good, but conditional news. “You may proceed to Monze, but make sure the young man does not drive the vehicle otherwise you may run into a similar problem ahead.” We thanked our saviour profusely, almost going on our knees!

Luckily, although my own drivers’ license had expired, I’d a provisional one pending renewal of the old one and I took over and drove to and from Monze. The wedding itself was a stunning success and we made the return journey, sure to reach Lusaka without any incident.

Not so! We were to encounter yet another road block about 20 kilometres from Kafue. The time was about 20.00 hours and this traffic officer took his sweet time examining the discs on the car’s windscreen. And the verdict: your road licence is expired!

How? How come the officers at Mazabuka did not spot this in broad daylight? I parked the vehicle and got back to the investigating officer who started quizzing the driver, myself, why I was driving the car with an expired road license.

Pleading innocence, I told the officer I was in an awkward position to answer because this wasn’t my vehicle. “You’re the driver and we will charge you,” he said with a tone of finality. I said I only drove the car because of some difficult circumstances (Andrew’s missing license) which I could not divulge, lest we aggravate the situation.

I told the officer that since the owner was with us, he would be better able to answer any questions related to the vehicle. The situation was only getting more interesting! When Andrew was asked why the vehicle had an expired road license, he said he was not the one responsible for renewals! Who was?

He told the officer, “My driver.” Then the officer asked Andrew if the vehicle was his and in whose name it was registered. Another shocker! He said the car was his indeed and registered in his name. If you thought the police are foolish, you’re terribly mistaken.

With modern technology, it’s as easy as blinking to cross-check or verify information, including car registration on the spot from anywhere. And so, the officers, after a short exchange of radio communication, informed all of us the car was, in fact, registered in another person’s name!

When Andrew was asked about this, he explained that the car was his, but that he had signed a contract with his driver to buy it off him after the driver cashed in K40,000,000 (KR 40,000). All this came as a complete shock to Luckson, myself and two other family members who had joined us in the car on the return journey from Monze.

The police said it was hard to charge us because of the confusing circumstances surrounding the vehicle and released us to proceed on our last lap to Lusaka. Things could have been worse. The police, if they wished, could have impounded the vehicle as a suspected stolen car. What a trip it was!

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Posted by Editor on March 2, 2013. Filed under LIFE & STYLE, STYLE. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0. You can leave a response or trackback to this entry