Where Bribes Rule

I was sitting in a taxi-brousse today traveling to the nearby town of Soavinandriana, in the front seat as usual due to my height, when the driver suddenly and urgently asked me for my frais of 1000 ariary.

I fumbled around a bit in my purse trying to find the exact change as he requested, however I was a bit slow in presenting the money, not watching my surroundings but noticing that the car had started to slow down. Just as abruptly as he asked for the money and in seeing me continue to look for the right bill even after we had stopped, the driver turned to me again and quietly said, “Stop, don’t pull out your money now, we’ll get in trouble.” Only at this point did I notice that we were stopped at a Police Checkpoint – one of the many that are scattered along most of the roads here. Realizing the implications of the delay in reaching my money, I smiled, but tried to hide it for fear of the armed policeman asking me what was so funny. Not having received the right change to pass along to the police officer, the driver instead pulled out his phone and transferred credit from his mobile account. My “frais” had nearly become that bribe, and the most ironic thing about it is that the driver thought we’d get in trouble merely for making obvious something we all know exists – and with exactly the person who is perpetuating the crime.

This experience perfectly illuminates the nature of kolikoly here. Everyone knows it’s there, everyone talks about it behind closed doors and in good company, but no one openly admits or addresses the issue and as a result it persists to the very core of this nation. It’s one of those “hiding in plain sight” situations. I know that every time we stop at a police checkpoint – where the police supposedly monitor illegal smuggling of highly valued resources such as rosewood but in reality just receive higher bribes, proportionate to the load – the driver slips a 500 or 1000 ariary note into his vehicle registration book, though at times they are less subtle. The drivers and policemen inevitably keep up this charade of hidden give and take, even though every passenger on the bus knows exactly what is going on.

While this form of corruption does reflect a rotten core, it is relatively harmless compared to other ways that corruption might play out. It merely reflects a slight redistribution of wealth from the bus drivers, who are quite well off as it is, to the policemen. For the most part, the passengers are no worse off, if anything the frais is slightly higher but they still receive the service they paid for (most of the time, but flat tires and overheating engines are not directly due to corruption). In many other cases however, it significantly affects the development of the country and the opportunities available to the Malagasy people.

Clearly this trend reveals itself on the macro level in terms of economics and politics. One only needs to read the news to see that since the government overthrow in 2009, the transitional president has worked to consolidate his own power and postpone elections for over four years. During this time, the country has fallen deeper and deeper into crisis, and an already poor nation has become one of the 10 poorest in the world in terms of GDP per capita. It is no question that increasing amounts of corruption and complete lack of accountability have contributed to this downward spiral. But instead of giving an analysis of this situation and how it affects life here (read the most recent World Bank report on Madagascar if you are interested), I am going to share the example of one of my friends and how her personal and professional development has been stunted due to corruption on an individual level.

Her name is Sambatra, and her family owns the épicerie across the street from me, a small shop that sells most daily necessities– salt, soap, toilet paper, etc. The shop is rather large and therefore Sambatra’s family is fairly well off, enough so to send her to Antananarivo to study Law. She has been studying for several years now and is soon approaching the time where she will graduate and take her final test with the hope to receive a good job placement. It all sounds very promising. But the last time we were chatting, she revealed her worries about her future once school is over. Turns out only the wealthiest of the students get the good jobs, those as private attorneys or in district tribunals. And they do this through bribing the professors and school directors. So even though Sam is a hardworking and intelligent young woman, her opportunities are severely limited because she is not in this upper class capable of paying her way to the top.

As long as things continue the way they are, it is difficult to imagine how and when it will stop. In the meantime, so many individuals with the potential to make something of their lives are left behind while their nation struggles to stay on its feet.