Another Police Raid On The Dhow
Mukono Internal Security Organisation Has A Go
 

Friday afternoon, five o'clock. I am playing golf. My cell phone is in the car. I do not want to be disturbed. But this time I forgot to switch it off. On passing my pickup from one hole to another, people warn me that it is ringing continuously.
Missed calls: Doi, Doi Doi.
I call Doi

Doi (agitated and in Swahili): there is police here. They want on the boat. Come!
I: Tell them I can be there at seven, and that they are not allowed on the boat.

I switch off and continue my golf. After all: what can they do? Burn my boat? Steal from it? Not exactly unobserved, I would think. Take my computer, as Mwanza police did? OK, I am used to it, and now prepared too: I learned, the hard way, to anticipate monkey behaviour: I have even two good backups, one in the very car parked at the golf club.
Dark clouds. Golf mate Klaus wants to stop. It is half past five. It seems to me that I should not show up at my boat before seven, but I am curious. I decide to drive to neighbouring friends Patrick and Gaby at the shore and observe the dhow from there. While driving, phone calls keep raining on me: Doi, Peter, a Ugandan friend of ours, driver of a motorized canoe of Kingfisher Lodge, and Josua, head of Kingfisher Lodge security.

Peter (quite excited): They are really annoying you. They want on the boat.
I: If they get on the boat without my permission they will land in jail.
Peter: But how can I...
I: Just tell them that this is what I am saying. I'll be there at seven. Alternatively, they can call me for an appointment.

I drive on. Nobody is calling for a while. The "gentlemen" probably have no airtime. Then, Peter again:

Peter: Doi has no more airtime. They...
I: Are they on the boat now?
Peter: No, now they want to take Doi to the Police Office.
I: That would yield them big trouble. They are just trying to intimidate. They will not do it. I'll be there at seven.

This threat of hostage taking reminds me of Mr. Malima's behaviour while he was kidnapping my dhow. The idea is to try and give their target a sense of urgency. That, of course, should fail. Seven, is seven, is seven. And that is one and a half hour from now. Another call from Peter:

Peter: They really want on the dhow now.
I: Tell them they have no permission.

So, the threat to arrest Doi was indeed bluff. Another phone call from Peter:

Peter: Call me back I am out of airtime!

I try to call back, but I am also out of airtime. An unknown number calls me, turns out to be Josua, Ugandan, head of security of Kingfisher lodge:

Josua: This is Josua. This police here is really trying to annoy you. They want on your boat, you had better come now.
I: Josua, thank yo for calling. I would like very much to come right now, but unfortunately I have business in town. I will be there at seven. Alternatively the gentlemen can call me to make an appointment

I do not shut my telephone to keep track of who is calling me, an unknown number might be from the "gentlemen" themselves, and I would answer it. But I am only continuously rung by Peter and Josua, whom I do not answer. I branch off at a small dirt road several kilometers before Kingfisher in order to arrive at Gaby and Patrick's house, the plot next to Kingfisher, and park my car invisible from the Kingfisher side.

Gaby and Patrick are both home. I tell them the weird story. Who could they be? In the past nine months, I had already been screened by

the Jinja Department of Internal Security Organisation (ISO) Jinja Immigration had told me I should go to ISO for clearing my boat. ISO officer Kasim had inspected my boat, interviewed me thoroughly about its purposes (pleasure, non commercial), had taken copies of my passport, and visa, all Tanzania custom's export papers, then had taken me to the Jinja Revenue office for customs clearing, where I was told I would need a clearing agent (ISO1). While still in search for a clearing agent, Kasim called again. He appeared to feel not having finished his job, and felt in need of my curriculum vitae! Which I supplied (ISO2). After another visit (ISO3), he announced he would was going to have a new round of talks with me over "a number of issues" and now would come with his boss (ISO4). Now I started to realize he would go on like this in the expectation sooner or later to get something out of it. Meanwhile I found a (Ugandan) clearing agent. Other people with experience instructed me "it is not possible to be friends with these people, they just want to come close to you and get something out of it". My clearing agent agreed to accompany me to collect Kasim and his boss from their office for the inspection, and make an attempt to smother it altogether. There was no boss but Kasim insisted on another inspection with his young friend Victor. No "number if issues" was raised however, the presence and authority of my clearing agent seemed to suffice. In the dhow Kasim and Victor jumped excitedly on the cushions of my couch and, seeing the speaker, wanted to hear music. I told them that unfortunately I was very occupied today and they were canoed back to the shore. My clearing agent meanwhile got a sense of the urgency of having the paperwork for customs clearing done.

The Ministry of Internal Affairs and the Ministry of Works. My clearing agent's office meanwhile, had set off clearing the ship. The Jinja Revenue Customs Office had declared itself unauthorized to clear the dhow. This would be a matter for the Ministry of Works and the Ministry of Internal Affairs. My clearing agent had sent the two letters, and we were now waiting for more than a month. I did not care much, I though a clearance in progress would not differ much from a clearance. Wrong! I got a phone call from the director of the local hotel school who had been approached by Mr. Kayaga, the director of the Cultural Research Centre Jinja asking what to think of a visit to the main office of the Diocese of Jinja by secret agents of the Ministry of Internal affairs, inquiring about me! Before eyebrows would be raised or rumours spread I quickly called Kayaga to say I suspected this had to do with my application for clearance of my dhow. Kayage was set at ease. He advised me not to take any action and keep things down. I called my ISO officer Kasim who had done the security clearing of my dhow so thoroughly in four sessions of inspection and screening. But he knew nothing about any intelligence operations of the Ministry of Internal Affairs. On June 23, 2006, my clearing agent declared my boat cleared by the signing at Ministry of Works, of a Inland Water Transport License for my boat mentioning "this license could be cancelled if vessel....considered unfit".
Will there be inspection? I asked my clearing agent
No.
Any ongoing procedure of Ministry of Internal Affairs?
No.
Everything OK?
Yes.

The Jinja Department of Security Police. More than three months later, in October 2006, I was summoned by telephone to Jinja Security Police to explain myself and my boat. My father was visiting me, and of course I advised him to join me to the office for a genuine African experience. I did not carry any papers, and told my father to do likewise, because some African government officials to tend to snatch your papers only to return them for some decent money ("hostage taking of papers"). But Security Police officer Odict turned out to be a jovial man, only got some questions (of course did not mention from whom), and wanted to have some information to answer them. He did not know about my baroque security history of clearing with ISO Jinja nor about enquiries about me by the Ministry of Internal Affairs in the Catholic Diocese of Jinja. Apparently yet another gang now had taken interest in me. Who had given them my cell phone number? Not ISO? Anyway, after hearing the dhow was for pleasure, no commerce, Odict turned out to be mainly concerned with why I had no children. He pleaded I should have them, calling in my father's help to stress his point. After some loud quasi amicable laughter from all sides I promised to bring him copies of my passport, work permit, testimony of geographical address and license to operate the dhow. I carefully choose 16:58 hrs to hand them in, hoping he would be too high in rank still to be around. He turned out to be, so as I hoped I did not have to talk to him again.

Summarizing: we had 1. ISO Jinja, 2. Ministry of Internal Affairs, 3. Ministry of Works and 4. Security Police Jinja. Now "police"gang number 5 has a go on me. Who could they be? What could they want? What could they hope to find? Some opportunity to blackmail me? Contraband? Guns? Defective paperwork? Neither Gaby nor Patrick had a clue. I look through the trees at the dhow. Our canoe lies at the shore side, that means Doi is not on the boat, neither anyone else. The dark clouds that made Klaus fly from the golf course bring some wind, thunder and poor heavy rain far Eastward, I hope for a good storm, that would make the dhow unreachable for a while - may be even until dark! - and cool them down, but unfortunately it does not look serious enough. I decide to go for some airtime in nearby Bukaya, with which I can, if needed, call my clearing agent, Kasim, the ISO officer who so elaborately screened and inspected me and Jinja secret police Odict, so well-stuffed with all documents needed to judge whether or not my dhow is a threat the internal security of Uganda. Pity: only my clearing agent is in my phone's contacts, the rest is only in my computer (and, fortunately, on the backups, in case they take my computer hostage). I return to Gaby and Patrick. I am offered a drink. First I go for another look at the battlefield. Now I see the canoe next to the dhow, and I see at least four people on board. I decline the drink and walk over the railroad to Kingfisher, assuming they, being parked there for this operation to defend Uganda against me, cannot escape me. But this turned out to be a mistake when, walking down to the lake, I call Peter.

Peter: They have gone back to the shore
I: And you?
Peter: I am on the dhow with Doi
I: So they took the canoe without you?
Peter: Yes, we refused to take them back.
I: Brilliant! Did they take anything?
Peter: Doi's passport
I: Did they come through Kingfisher Lodge?
Peter: No, they came through a sideway and entered the Kingfisher compound from the shore side
I: What did Kingfisher security say?
Peter: Josua protested but did not stop them.
I: Where is Josua now?
Peter: He is still at the shore.
I: How did they get there?
Peter: By bodaboda [motorcycle-taxy]
I: Are there any bodaboda's now to take them?
Peter: No.
I: Excellent, I am coming now

So, no car, no money for decent transport, not even airtime to call me, nor, now, back on the beach with Doi's passport, a bodaboda. The idea usually is to return the passport for money (hostage taking of documents). I ran full speed down to the lake, but left the Kingfisher compound half way to reach the battlefield from outside, from the fishermen's beach between Kingfisher and Gaby and Patrick. Before becoming visible, I stopped to regain a dignified pace of breath.

Photo: From dhow, left the Kingfisher compound, right the fishermen's beach with its bar en restaurant.
I entered the battlefield from the right, the "gentlemen" still stood on the Kingfisher compound.

Passing the crowd of fishermen and women coming to fetch water for the evening meal, I asked whether they had seen police.
Uncountable fingers went to Kingfisher's compound: "They are still there!"
At 50 meters, I saw five men, one of which in police uniform, with an AK47 repeating assault rifle, standing with Josua. No need to say the crowd around me was highly attentive. I naturally followed the principles of the The Ideal African Public Officer Flic Flac (IAPOFF), which starts with having the crowd behind you: in threatening posture, my right arm stretched, index finger pointed at the gentlemen, I slowly walked the remaining 50 meter. The crowd cheered.
On arrival, I shouted: Who are you!
You cool down!!! one of them shouted nervously. The rest started to divide its attention between me and the noisy crowd behind me at the fishermen's beach.
I am cool, how about you? I said as cool as I could, Who is in charge!
My man pointed at another man.
Who are you!
You have not even introduced yourself to me!
I introduce myself: Bert hamminga.
Bert who?
Bert Hamminga, and you?
Emmaus.
I wrote down his name. Emmaus held a paper in his hand. Though folded, it strongly seemed Doi's passport to me. I assumed a look over the lake as if distracted, then suddenly snatched the paper out of his hand, with the explosive arm stretch a custom's officer at Mwanza airport taught me and which I first successfully applied to reclaim my canoe contract from the LC1 chairman of the Jinja harbour village. I unfolded it to verify it was Doi's passport, and put it in my trousers pocket. No protest from Emmaus. One for me.
Now, I said, in my friendliest tone, it seems good that we talk a bit, because without permission you just entered my dhow and even snatched a passport. I would not want you to get into trouble. I think you are basically good people and I want to help you, and you undoubtedly understand you will need that now. Are you police?
We are Internal Security Organisation, said Emmaus.
You can't be, I said, I have been inspected three times by ISO Jinja, they have written a three page report about me, to which I have added copies of my passport, work permit, license to operate the dhow and curriculum vitae.
We are ISO Mukono, we know nothing about ISO Jinja.
Moreover, I said, I have been screened by the Ministry of Internal Affairs and then even Security Police Jinja has interviewed me and I have given them, on their request, copies of all papers already collected by ISO Jinja, and above that a testimony of my geographical address.
Meanwhile the gentlemen had kept looking nervously at the restless and attentive crowd 50 meters behind us. It had stopped the yelling, but there was still clear unrest. One of the gentlemen in light grey trousers and shirt had gone there. On his return I said: do not worry. As long as I am here they will do nothing to you, I brag. What do you want to know? I will be glad to inform you if I can (meanwhile I could not help thinking they felt like being on a compound with fifty dogs, and indeed, this was a good occasion to realize how much police is hated, in Uganda, and generally in East Africa, and for good reasons).
What are you doing on the lake? Emmaus asked.
This boat is purely for pleasure, as I told ISO Jinja, Security Police Jinja, Ministry of Works and Ministry of Internal Affairs with underlying documents. It has no commercial purposes. We buy food, go on the lake with friends, sail there, we can cook and sleep on board, as you have seen now you have been inside illegally. That is all.
But what are you doing on the lake?
I wait for a while. Clearly, this is his assignment: to find out what I am doing on the lake...
Do you mean you want to know what is my job?
Yes.
I am resident consultant of the Cultural Research Centre of the Catholic Diocese of Jinja.
That gives him something to write. Writing is not the strong side of an African government officer. But in the end he manages.
Your papers are OK, Mr. Grey said quickly.
But you said you had no papers! I replied, as if surprised.
Another of the gentlemen now conceded they had talked to the Jinja Security Police officer Mr. Odict who had interviewed me last year October, and Odict was aware of this operation, .
Then why are you asking the questions of Odict all over again? Do you want any information I have not yet given to Odict?
You told Odict you were here with your father, not with this boy.
That cannot be why you have come here, you did not know about the boy. Anyway, my father went with me to Odict because he was visiting me at that moment. Odict had no questions about the boy. Moreover, the boy is perfectly legal, the passport you tried to snatch is OK.
I look at Mr. Grey. He nods frantically. Grey is now clearly eager to leave the premises, but Emmaus seems in need for some coverage for retreat.
I decide to give him some: OK Emmaus. Anything else you want to know? How can I help you? Do you want copies of the papers I gave to ISO Jinja and Jinja Security Police?
Yes, Emmaus would greatly appreciate copies of the papers.
Yes, and the passport of the boy is OK. It is stamped by Uganda immigration in Busia, but not here.
I do not see why it should, my passport is also only stamped on entry and not by local authorities, but do you want the boy to report?
Emmaus would appreciate. Doi could go to local police here, at Njeru, to Mr. Alex, this man here. He points at "Mr." Alex.
I decide to give Emmaus this favour to show on return to his office. OK Doi will go to register with Mr. Alex at Njeru police Monday. No Ugandan law or rule says we should.
In shaking hands on arrival, I had skipped a man holding a motor cycle, assuming this was a bodaboda man. Now shaking hands for goodbye, assuring I was very glad that this serious danger to all of us had been averted now we had all become the best of  friends, the ritual ending of every police confrontation (see for instance goodbye  #4 from Uganda Marines, and, more general The Ideal African Public Officer Flic Flac (IAPOFF)) this turned out to be a genuine official who even had procured himself with a government vehicle. To make good for my misjudgment, I praise the brand new below bottom priced China make. He is pleased.
In my goodbye to the gunman, I praise the twenty odd year old AK47 but unfortunately cannot not prevent myself asking him whether it really works. OK I do not blame myself too much. After all, the gun was meant to convey the message that the gentlemen could pierce my skin as well as the vital organs it covers. It really works, the government gunman assures. That, unfortunately, does not mean that it works according to any decent safety standards, so Lake Vic clearly is not yet ready for ordinary water tourism.
The gentlemen quickly vacated the premises, forced to go as they came, through the crowd at the fishermen's beach, stared at by some one hundred eyes, not looking back. I went to the fishermen. The beach leader knows the guys. He confirmed they really are ISO Mukono.
Indeed, my delay tactics turns out to have been a good start, I gathered from what Peter told me about what happened while I still was under cover. My absence had made them angry, unsure and nervous: does he think he is Jesus?! They had shouted around, clearly indicating they found that only Jesus could make them wait, no one else. But they had not called me. No airtime probably. Well, nothing to be ashamed about: did Jesus have airtime?
We are still puzzled on what was on the mind of the gentlemen and their bosses, too poor for airtime or proper transport, always in search for money, nevertheless spending money for a 5 head operation from Mukono (50 km) and Njeru to annoy me. To have me provide copies of papers already at ISO Jinja and Jinja Security police? That seems a project for which there are much cheaper alternatives. Doi? Doi cannot be a reason for the operation because they discovered him only after their harnessed arrival.

Remember how I was expelled from Tanzania (details): a major police operation started before they had any idea they would expel me and why. Those government officers too probably hoped to find something "better", like  the guns or contraband typical of a rich target willing to pay a lot, at least get something better, say money instead of the counter-intimidation they got, and my unexplained expulsion from Tanzania was a cover for their retreat (Jailed, Banned).

A dhow moored down in a bay, visible from many kilometers from 360 degrees is not exactly the place to commit offences against the law. So, it can not be anything else but either baffling incompetence or some hope for money somehow raised by the presence of a mzungu there. Gaby, after hearing my report, raises her shoulders. I am advised not even to try to find out. The only one who got money out of this is Josua: gratefully, I gave him USh 2000 airtime. And I learned better what I was already starting to learn: watch the fishermen a little, but in the continuous harassment by police of fishermen, the fishermen are my natural allies. Lower police in Uganda is weary of disturbing the criminals and prefers to preying on the rest of the population, whose natural endeavour is to be equally unattractive police targets as criminals, which naturally inspires quite some people to become criminals also. The big criminals are for higher government to negotiate bribes with.
After a well arranged reception of government, the goodbye is always friendly, also from their side, but, as I have learned the hard way (see: Jailed): that does not mean you will not find them with their dangerously old guns around your bed at midnight some days later.

I invite a well informed Ugandan for dinner in a restaurant. His initial diagnosis is: they are bored, and kill their time trying to get some money from you. After I added that ISO Mukono's Mr. Emmaus called himself "Deputy DISO" (District Security Officer), however, he got more impressed: These guys are high. They are military men.
Small brains though, I say, but my informer decidedly switches to the analysis that it is good to befriend security, because within security there are bad people who can later come privately at you and rob you.
Well, I remark, that is indeed a good system: you do a search dressed as security, and if you find something interesting you return privately for a robbery.
Yes, but there are also good people there who can check that. You need to befriend them.
Pay?
Do not pay. They will accept, but might think there is more money and may be even some very profitable reason for you to pay. So they will come back on you.
Now I am glad they did not find anything of the sort they are used to look for on their illegal entry on my boat. On questioning Doi and Peter, who were in the boat during the police inspection, they had not seen the solar panels, the laptop and the generator, popular items for theft and robbery. The most expensive item they can have noticed, a 190 Ahrs truck battery, is a bit heavy to run away with. I remember my Sese Island Marine harassment: all of them wanted to see the boat. I consistently refused. And I remember the story there of two fish buyers (going with lots of money on big ice stuffed canoes to the islands to buy fish for the factories), whose bodies were found floating in the lake without wallets, and were generally thought there to have been killed with involvement of government officers.
Uganda is good, claims my informer. Tanzania is worse, Kenya is worse, in Kenya they even kill high people. 
I have no qualms agreeing about Tanzania (see: sensational misbehaviour of Tanzanian government officers. And if it is true Uganda is good, then I am glad indeed I am in Uganda.

Two days later I prepare another set of copies of the same papers for ISO Mukono. I add some photos of yachting and mooring in the developed world and its potential in enriching Uganda provided army and police stays in the barracks. I find a Kingfisher staff to join Doi in the agreed (but legally void) registering at the nearby Mukono district Njeru police office, since I suspect another try to reach my wallet if I join. Our "deputy diso" Emmaus has bluffed a bit: he turns out to reside in that local Njeru office too, so this was no 50 km distance Mukono big boss raid after all, but a purely local police gang embarking, probably indeed without airtime, on a low fuel, possibly interesting adventure.

The next day, Jinja security police Odict calls me.

Odict: Hello how are you?
I: Fine Mr. Odict, thank you, and you?
Odict: Very fine, thank you, is your father still there?
I: No he was only here for a week, as I told you.
Odict: Did you have any other visitors?
I: Yes Mr. Odict, I had some uninvited visitors three days ago. They said they were ISO Mukono and did not know about ISO Jinja.
Odict: No that is not what I mean.
I: You mean invited ones?
Odict: Yes.
I: No, but I have a boy here who lost his father and his mother has no money, so I am the father now. These ISO Mukono, by the way I found out they actually are just local Njeru police people, had already snatched his passport when I arrived at the rather chaotic scene. They had already threatened to arrest the boy, but feared really doing it, then had entered my boat without warrant, under protest of my people. They wanted the boy to register at Njeru. And they wanted copies the same papers as I already gave to ISO Jinja, you, the Ministry of Internal Affairs and the Ministry of Works. We do not have to play games, I should assume you were aware of their plans and they could just have asked you my telephone number. Moreover, one said my papers were OK, curious, because they said they had not seen any and asked me to bring copies. But I decided just to ask them what they wanted and how I could help them.
Odict: Very good. It is another district, you know...
I: Yes, that is what they told me too. I gather ISO Busia, ISO Entebbe and ISO Masaka still have a right to one raid each, then we will have had the entire Ugandan coast line. But this one, I think, is neutralized now. If you have any further questions please call me, I will do the same from my side.
Odict: Very well Mr. hamminga.
I: Goodbye Mr. Odict, thank you for calling!