We deserve privacy at our police stations

Instead of spending taxpayers’ money on those ugly police uniforms that lack an ounce of authority, the government should have used our hard-earned money to give our police stations a much-needed facelift.

I say this because a few weeks ago, I happened to visit a police station in one of the estates on the outskirts of the CBD.

I was one of several people seeking service there, so I had to wait my turn. To begin with, there were no seats on which to wait, which I didn’t mind because I doubt a police station is somewhere you want to pass time in — you want to complete your business as fast as possible and get out of there; after all, a police station is not a restaurant.

What I had a big problem with is the lack of privacy — you walk up to the counter and state your problem, whatever it is, to the policeman or policewoman behind the counter, and in so doing, everyone within earshot gets to know your business.

STIGMA

In the line before me was a woman who seemed to be in her mid-fifties, someone with adult children.

When it was her turn, the policewoman serving her enquired what her problem was. She said something in a barely audible voice, prompting the officer to ask her to speak up.

“My husband beat me …” she trailed off, at which two other police officers that had been busy on their mobile phones curiously glanced at the woman before returning their attention to their phones.

Of course, even the rest of us on line could not help glancing at the woman, who was visibly embarrassed and ill at ease.

There’s lots of stigma attached to domestic violence, and the last thing a woman, or man, going through it wants is for the matter to become public.

RESOURCES

It is hard enough to open up to those close to you, so imagine having to recount your story to a total stranger in the presence of total strangers.

“What is your name?” asked the policewoman without losing a beat, her pen poised above a large book.

“Where do you live?” she asked after the woman answered. “What is your phone number?” “And your husband’s phone number?”

“When did he beat you?” “Where did he beat you?”

In less than five minutes, we, total strangers, had been treated to front row seats to something we had no right to hear or witness because it was very personal and private, so personal in fact it deserved to be told to one person in a closed room. How callous.

That policewoman was not to blame though, after all, if there was no room to ‘interview’ that woman in private, what was she supposed to do?

VALUE FOR MONEY

Blame a government that has no regard for its citizens, forcing them to go through such awkward and uncomfortable experiences while seeking a service they are entitled to.

Is it any wonder that most Kenyans sorely in need of service from the police shy away from seeking help from these stations, and in so-doing allow perpetrators to go scot-free?

Imagine a woman that has been raped being subjected to the above conversation, no, interrogation. And in the presence of total strangers in that vulnerable state.

“Who raped you?” “Where did the rape take place?” “What time were you raped?” You get the picture.

We, taxpayers, deserve better treatment at our police stations, and all it will take is just one room with a door that closes.

The writer is the Editor, Society and Magazines, Daily Nation. [email protected]