Generally, I’ve always appreciated the police in the US. Aside from a very small percentage which have made the news in recent years, I believe most police officers are competent, trained, and vital public servants. In Liberia, not all police are alike and it’s a different story. There are multiple layers of police here, and it is hard to tell who is legitimate. There are some uniformed police who clearly look official – they direct traffic or drive old police trucks with other officers riding in the bed of the truck. There are others that wear a green or dark polo shirts, with “police” stenciled on, and there are some that just have t-shirts and wear crosswalk vests. I often question if those in t-shirts really are authorized, but we still always respect them. There are some church members that are high up in the police force and we are grateful to them when we need assistance or guidance here.

When driving on the roads, flashing lights and sirens don’t mean much. Anyone can put flashing lights and sirens on their car, including taxis. Red and blue lights on a car can mean anything. Horn honking can mean “get out of the way” or most commonly it means, “Can I be your taxi driver?” Most times we ignore the noise and the flashing lights. However, if a few big black cars are honking, flashing lights and coming at us head-on in your traffic lane, we move completely to the side of the road with everyone else, as it is likely a government official and their aggressive security team clearing their path. 

Most policemen here are on foot, standing at busy intersections trying to direct the traffic jams, or they are at checkpoints, manning the rope, the cones or the bar. Some police checkpoints in outer areas aren’t legitimate – just some guys that put up a rope and wear a yellow vest or some old shirt that says police. Some are just trying to get money. Most legitimate police let us go through checkpoints without too much trouble. Often they see the Missionary word painted on our truck and put their hands together as a sign of prayerful thanks for what we do, and then wave us through without any problem. Others, seeing we are white Americans, try to work us over for money. We are instructed to never pay bribes, or all missionary cars will get stopped. So far, we’ve been able to get through most situations, thanks to some miraculous help or a little kindness, like offering them a water bottle. 

This last month we’ve been pulled over half a dozen times at intersections in the city. Some encounters include police yelling at us for no reason, then threatening to impound our car and arrest us. It’s hard for us to understand their dialects which frustrates them as much as us. Other police have been polite and ask us to show them our fire extinguisher and registration. The fire extinguisher request is ironic because the mission cars are obviously the safest and newest cars around, and rarely is there a vehicle on fire. Many vehicles here lack taillights or side mirrors. Some blow smoke so thick you can’t see past them, and most drivers violate every safe driving rule you can imagine, including having two to three times the number of passengers or weight their car can hold. Junked cars that aren’t legal in the U.S are shipped here. We see awful accidents on a weekly basis of cars hitting motorbikes and bodies flying, but we have yet to see a car on fire. Nevertheless, we keep two registered fire-extinguishers in our car, just in case. 😉 

One day, Nancy and Sister Blanchard were driving when a traffic policeman stopped them and directed them over to the sidewalk. One yelled and screamed at them for quite a while about Nancy’s driving. He took her license and continued to berate her. Then another policeman came and got mad that Nancy had parked on the sidewalk. Nancy said, “The other policeman told me to park here. I’ve done nothing wrong.” She said it was really stressful and they didn’t know what to do. Finally, a third uniformed policeman came over, seeing the Missionary decal on the car said, “Let them go. They are missionaries! They’re here helping us.” The first policeman continued to rant and the new policeman told him, “Stand down!” The first policeman handed back her license and walked away. This third policemen then walked over to Nancy with a big smile and said, “I’m a returned missionary from the Sinkor 1st ward. You can go.” Nancy said it was a little miracle. Later that week in my studies, I read Doctrine & Covenants section 68. These couple verses reminded me of the protection we receive and often take for granted: 

Behold, this is the promise of the Lord unto you, O ye my servants. Wherefore, be of good cheer, and do not fear, for I the Lord am with you, and will stand by you; and ye shall bear record of me, even Jesus Christ, that I am the Son of the living God, that I was, that I am, and that I am to come. 

Every day when we arrive home and pull up to our door, we’re grateful to have made it through another day safely, knowing He is standing by us. And it’s good to be home.