Federal Road Safety Corp or Federal Road Safety Corruption?

The morning of last Saturday started really well for me. I was my giddy, trendy self who was looking forward to a ‘seminar’ a friend invited me to. It was actually a day packed with too many things for me to do.

Aside the seminar, I had to be at Phillip’s wedding. Not the wedding of the man on top, of course. Here at Business Day, in the newsroom, we have two Phillips. The first is the man on top, Phillip Isakpa, the other, Phillip Okafor is the man who handles the Work and Learning section of the paper. It was a wedding I had looked forward to until Federal Road Safety Corps official somewhat spoilt the fun.

I was riding in my friend’s car on my way to Phillip’s wedding after the seminar when we were accosted by the patrol van of the Federal Road Safety Corps at Osborne Road, Ikoyi. Initially, we were a little confused when we were asked to pull over. Even a policeman at a nearby checking point was pointing at the car before us until the FRSC van overtook us and one of the officials on it literarily barked at the policeman that we should pull over.

Eventually we did and got off the car. One of the FRSC officers by the name S.O Akintonde walked up to us asking for my friend’s driving license, which he gave to him.
“Where are the vehicles particulars,” Akintonde asked after he was given the driving license. My friend handed him the documents. My friend and I were still very surprised what he wanted to do with the particulars without an explanation of what our offence was. “What is the problem?,” I asked. None of the two men, O.N Bakare and S.O Akintonde, who stood beside us said anything. My friend could also not understand what the problem was. I moved to the back of the car where O.N Bakare stood with another man, whom I later learnt was the head of the patrol team, I was unable to get his name because he wore a pullover on his uniform.

It was much later it dawned on us that we were stopped because of the missing rear plate number. “What happened to your plate number?” Akintonde finally asked after finding his voice. “It got missing and I have applied for another one. But I have a police report with me,” my friend replied.

“Where is the police report,” Akintonde asked. My friend handed it over to him. It was at this point that a man with the pullover came running shouting at the top of his voice: “let m-e has the pa-pers, let me has them, I don’t has ti-me,” he spoke hysterically in disjointed English. Drive the car to our office,” he shouted at my friend. As he moved towards their van, he pulled out a note pad.

“You better go and talk to me before he starts writing on the ticket,” offered O.N Bakare.
“But you have to explain to us what our offense is,” I asked as I walked towards the man with the pullover. “We have a police report which we have given you, what else do you want?”
“Where is your receipt, an evidence that you have applied for another one,” he asked. “I was not given any receipt,” my friend replied.
“You get luck, I did not ask my men to impound your vehicle,” he said. “Impound the vehicle, for what?” I asked annoyed. “It’s not a stolen vehicle. There is a prove of ownership. The car cannot be impounded on account of a missing rear plate number,” I replied.

The man refused to listen to our explanations as he wrote frantically on a form. He did not bother to explain to us the meaning of what he wrote on the form, whether we were supposed to pay some money or not, where and how. He drove off with his men in annoyance because we never offered to bribe him. My friend and I had resolved not to bribe them. We prefer to pay the money into the account of the Federal Government than give them a bribe. That same day, we tried to locate the FRSC office at Sura, where an officer at the gate explained to us where and how to pay the money.

On Monday morning, I went to the UBA, one of the designated banks on the form only to be told by the lady at the customer care service that the FRSC account for plate numbers had not been activated. I had to return to their office for clarification. The officer on duty gave me a teller with the designated account number. “Someone just brought these tellers from the bank this morning,” she explained. The account number is on it.

Since I could not make it back to their office on the same day, I went back on Tuesday morning. An officer named Imam was on duty. After sorting out the details of the particulars collected by his colleagues on Saturday, I seized the opportunity to request for a plate number replacement.

“Plate number replacement is N13, 000,” he said. “That’s expensive, my friend earlier paid N10, 000 to the someone at Ikeja who is yet to bring them,” I answered. “Can’t I see your price list?
“We don’t have a price list,” he replied. “Which bank do I pay the money, can I have the account number?”

“We don’t have an account for that, you have to pay it here,” said Imam while walking out of the office. But I was still sceptical about the amount. Hence, I asked another female offer whose name is R.A Bello, in Yoruba if the amount was being asked to pay was the current fee. “It should be N10, 000. It depends on the officer,” she said while walking away when she saw Imam coming. “Can I see you outside so that we can talk ,” I asked sensing that she did not want the other officer have an inkling of what she had told me.

“Let me have your vehicle license,” she said as she walked up to me. I want to confirm the fee from someone else. She took the paper and walked towards a cubicle. “It’s true that you have to pay N13, 000. It’s a Lagos state number hence it is more expensive than our own (the one issued by FRSC). FRSC’s own costs N10, 000.”

And so, I went back into the office to pay the money to Imam. After he collected the money, I was expecting him to issue a receipt. “Where is the receipt?,” I asked. “We don’t give receipt. What I will do is to give you a note stamped and signed by me with my number on it,” he said. “But we were arrested on Saturday because we did not have a receipt, an evidence that we paid. So what do we do if we were arrested by your men again?” I asked in surprise.

“Don’t worry about that. I will put my number on the note and when you have any trouble you can call me and I will explain to the officer that your plate number is being processed,” Imam explained.
I was beside myself with surprise that day. It was ridiculous and really unbelievable that if FRSC could have accounts in designated banks for the payment of fines why would it not have an account for plate number replacement? I could recalled that our driver got a receipt when he paid a little over N3,000 for the renewal of his driving licence so why would I not be issued for paying N13, 000 for plate number replacement?

I also could not understand why I will have to show a note that could be forged by anyone as a proof that the plate number is being processed instead of a receipt considering the fact that my friend and I were fined for not providing a receipt. The level of corruption at the much respected FRSC is really sad. However, I hope to give you, dear readers, the second part to my story when I go for the plate number in two weeks. Before then, I hope the authorities at FRSC will read this and put things in order. It’s a shame if notes now serves as substitutes for receipt!