I de grå og sorte zoner – om korruption Lidt ekstra til motorcyklen Lomé, 2010. Familien skal have forlænget togolesiske visa, og vi afleverer derfor vores pas, ansøgningsskemaer og fotos til indenrigsministeriet i god tid, før de gamle visa udløber, nærmere bestemt en måned før. En måned senere rykker vi og opdager, at ansøgningen ikke har flyttet sig en millimeter. Det er ikke så heldigt, fordi vi nu formelt opholder os ulovligt i Togo. Selvom det ikke er vores skyld, kan det give problemer i Lomés gader. Hvis jeg bliver standset af en ”sulten” betjent, og det sker tit, og jeg ikke kan fremvise en tilladelse, hjælper det ikke at forklare betjenten, at det er en embedsmand i ministeriet, som smøler. Betjenten vil vifte forklaringen væk og kræve kontant afregning af mig. Hvis jeg ikke betaler på stedet, vil han true med at trække mig på stationen, og det bliver ”bøden” kun større af. Får kollegerne på stationen en hvid ”lovbryder” ind ad døren, er det tiden og graden af intimidering, der afgør størrelsen af deres selvbestaltede løntillæg. Hvilket pres kan jeg holde til, hvor meget intimidering kan jeg klare? Jeg har prøvet det og ved, at togolesiske politistationer er ubehagelige. Så for at undgå at komme i den situation, er det vigtigt, at vores papirer er i orden, så afpresningen afværges eller i det mindste begrænses. Derfor rykker vi igen og igen i ministeriets visumkontor. Men så er der noget galt med ansøgningsskemaerne, så er noget andet forkert med det følgebrev, vi har indleveret sammen med ansøgningen. Sagen trækker ud, mens jeg sniger mig mere og mere nervøst rundt for at undgå politibetjentene i Lomés gader. Pludselig bliver vi ringet op af en embedsmand. Visaene er klar og kan hentes. Claudine kører til ministeriet, hvor hun efter et par timers ventetid bliver kaldt ind til manden, der efter de sædvanlige høflige hilsner og venligheder siger: ”Giv mig penge til benzin til min motorcykel. Så skal jeg få lavet visa til jer”. Et eklatant baghold! Claudine forklarer embedsmanden, at alene hendes funktion som finanskontrollør gør, at hun ikke kan betale penge under bordet til nogen, og så appellerer hun til mandens moral ved at gøre opmærksom på, at hendes arbejde består i at kontrollere, at penge fra danske sponsorer havner, hvor de skal, hos fattige børn i landsbyerne, så de kan komme i skole. Den preller af. Embedsmanden mener givetvis, at vi europæere er så rige, at vi sagtens kan give en skærv til en underbetalt ansat i et togolesisk ministerium og samtidig klare det med skolegang for fattige børn i landsbyerne. Han gentager: Penge til motorcyklen eller ”pas de visa!”. Erfaringen fortæller Claudine, at der nu kun er en vej ud af fælden, og den prøver hun. Hun truer embedsmanden med at gå højere op i systemet, til hans overordnede, for at forelægge sagen. Han er upåvirket. Penge til motorcyklen eller ingen visa. Nogle dage senere får Claudine et møde i stand med en højere-rangerende medarbejder i ministeriet, hvor hun fortæller, at embedsmanden har forsøgt at presse penge af hende til ”benzin til sin motorcykel”. Den overordnede har måske hørt fra den første embedsmand, at der ikke er kontanter at hente hos Børnefondens finanskontrollør, så han siger med et imødekommende smil: ”Det er sandelig noget værre noget, at hr. Y sådan beder om penge. Det får vi sat en stopper for”. Han lover at få lavet visa hurtigst muligt. Claudine takker og forlader kontoret med en fornemmelse af, at der fnises bag hende, og at ministeriets medarbejdere udveksler bemærkninger som: ”De er godt nok mærkelige, de europæere”. Følelsen forstærkes, da hun får øje på den første embedsmand. Han står i en korridor og griner sammen med to kinesere. Den ene har et pas i hånden. Han har åbenbart været venligere stemt overfor embedsmandens motorcykel, end Claudine var. Vi får vores visa. Der går et par uger, men de kommer.

In the gray and black zones - about corruption A little extra for the motorcycle Lomé, 2010. The family must have extended Togolese visas, and we therefore hand in our passports, application forms and photos to the Ministry of the Interior well in advance of the old visas expiring, more specifically one month before. A month later, we move and discover that the application has not moved a millimeter. It's not so lucky because we are now formally staying illegally in Togo. While not ours, it can cause problems in the streets of Lomé. If I am stopped by a "hungry" officer, and it happens often, and I can not present a permit, it does not help to explain to the officer that it is an official in the ministry who is smoldering. The officer will wave the explanation away and demand cash settlement from me. If I do not pay on the spot, he will threaten to drag me to the station, and the "fine" will only increase. If colleagues at the station get a white "offender" at the door, it is the time and degree of intimidation that determines the size of their self-appointed wage supplement. What pressure can I withstand, how much intimidation can I handle? I have tried it and know that Togolese police stations are unpleasant.So to avoid getting into that situation, it is important that our papers are in order so that blackmail is averted or at least limited. That is why we are moving again and again in the Ministry's visa office. But then there is something wrong with the application forms, then something else is wrong with the cover letter we have submitted with the application. The case drags on as I sneak around more and more nervously to avoid the police officers in the streets of Lomé. Suddenly we are called by an official. The visas are ready and can be picked up. Claudine drives to the ministry, where after a few hours of waiting she is called in to the man, who after the usual polite greetings and kindness says: “Give me money for petrol for my motorcycle. Then I will get a visa made for you ”. A blatant ambush! Claudine explains to the official that her function as financial controller alone means that she cannot pay money under the table to anyone, and then she appeals to the man's morality by pointing out that her job is to check that money from Danish sponsors ends up , where they are going, with poor children in the villages so they can get to school. It bounces off.The official certainly believes that we Europeans are so rich that we can easily give a shard to an underpaid employee of a Togolese ministry and at the same time manage it with schooling for poor children in the villages. He repeats: Money for the motorcycle or "pas de visa!". Experience tells Claudine that there is now only one way out of the trap, and she tries it. She threatens the official to go higher up the system, to his superior, to present the case. He is unaffected. Money for the motorcycle or no visa. A few days later, Claudine has a meeting with a higher-ranking employee in the ministry, where she says that the official has tried to extort money from her for "petrol for his motorcycle". The superior may have heard from the first official that there is no cash to pick up from the Children's Fund's financial controller, so he says with a welcoming smile: “It is certainly something worse that Mr. Y asks for money like that. We can put an end to that ”. He promises to get visas made as soon as possible. Claudine thanks and leaves the office with a feeling that there is a giggle behind her and that the ministry's employees exchange remarks such as: "They are probably strange, the Europeans".The feeling is heightened when she catches sight of the first official. He is standing in a corridor laughing with two Chinese people. One has a passport in his hand. He has apparently been kinder to the official's motorcycle than Claudine was. We get our visas. A few weeks go by, but they come.