Corruption: between Nigeria and The Police...
What iota could be left ?
This is the life of a Nigerian Police Officer
He bought his way into the Police College. 'Passed' the entrance exams through nepotistic influences. He was taught in classes that are next to dunghills by architectural appeal. He lived through the inhumane welfare conditions in the barracks where anything called moral can not be found. I know you've heard even about 'Barrack boys'. He washed Oga's cars because he wants to graduate and bribed 'a little' for better grades. For posting to 'good states', he lobbied.
He is now in the FORCE; what's suppose to be a Department like the New York Police Department (NYPD) or better still a Service like the South Africa Police Services. He met the system like that.
He buys for himself, his uniforms, shoes, belts etc. If he is not made nomadic like his other friend who is a MOBILE POLICE OFFICER, he rises through the ladder for being a 'good boy' who continues to bring proceeds home to Oga Owoseni even when cheated arbitrarily.
Lucky at last!
He then sets up his office- buys desk, chair, paper for "statements", pen, fridge, fan etc. All by himself. In fact, by this time he is a FULL ENTREPRENEUR who is out to make profits after investing. He does not believe that anything comes free. So when Providence brings you to him, he milks you dry.
He also gives tips at the Police Service Commission to prevent excessive deductions from his salary which takes a sinusoidal path most times. No retraining, incentives and leaves come after it is obvious that he's already unproductive.
What iota of civility or professionalism could be left in this man?
It does not end there.
After being transferred over 7 times throughout his service year, moving with his wife and changing his Children's schools as if changing underwear, he is being hinted by past retirees to drop 'something' for the Pension boys so his gratuity and pension can get to him. Even at that, the pensions were Tafa-ed, Dangabar-ed, Wada-ed and even Maina-ed.
He is a sad man; a product of a system.
This is the life of a Nigerian Police Officer
He bought his way into the Police College. 'Passed' the entrance exams through nepotistic influences. He was taught in classes that are next to dunghills by architectural appeal. He lived through the inhumane welfare conditions in the barracks where anything called moral can not be found. I know you've heard even about 'Barrack boys'. He washed Oga's cars because he wants to graduate and bribed 'a little' for better grades. For posting to 'good states', he lobbied.
He is now in the FORCE; what's suppose to be a Department like the New York Police Department (NYPD) or better still a Service like the South Africa Police Services. He met the system like that.
He buys for himself, his uniforms, shoes, belts etc. If he is not made nomadic like his other friend who is a MOBILE POLICE OFFICER, he rises through the ladder for being a 'good boy' who continues to bring proceeds home to Oga Owoseni even when cheated arbitrarily.
Lucky at last!
He then sets up his office- buys desk, chair, paper for "statements", pen, fridge, fan etc. All by himself. In fact, by this time he is a FULL ENTREPRENEUR who is out to make profits after investing. He does not believe that anything comes free. So when Providence brings you to him, he milks you dry.
He also gives tips at the Police Service Commission to prevent excessive deductions from his salary which takes a sinusoidal path most times. No retraining, incentives and leaves come after it is obvious that he's already unproductive.
What iota of civility or professionalism could be left in this man?
It does not end there.
After being transferred over 7 times throughout his service year, moving with his wife and changing his Children's schools as if changing underwear, he is being hinted by past retirees to drop 'something' for the Pension boys so his gratuity and pension can get to him. Even at that, the pensions were Tafa-ed, Dangabar-ed, Wada-ed and even Maina-ed.
He is a sad man; a product of a system.
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