The Law of the Land

I have had a few run-ins with the police here that have led me to draw a few conclusions about the law of the land.
The first run-in was almost two weeks ago, but it has taken until now to run its course. Upon returning from Antelope Park, I was taken back to the farm by one of the drivers. I was starting to feel sick so I was fast asleep in the car when, suddenly, I was awoken with a jolt and a loud noise. We had hit a goat – a poor, sweet, helpless goat. We stopped the car and the driver explained that it had come out of nowhere and jumped onto the road. I made him get out of the car and check to see that the goat was, in fact, dead. It was. The front fender of the truck was also dead.
The driver decided it would be wise to report the accident to the police so that we could make an insurance claim. It was a long process at the police department, but two hours later – after visiting the scene of the crime and meeting the owner of the goat – we were on our way back to the farm. I was informed that the law was on our side, as animals such as goats and cows need to either be behind a fence or under the careful watch of a person. As such, the driver would be deemed innocent and the insurance would cover the damages.
It was only a few days ago that I discovered how the situation ended. It turns out the owner of the goat has deep political connections with the ruling party. Because of his influential friends, the police informed my driver that he was now guilty of reckless and neglectful driving. He had two options – pay a fine (therefore admitting his guilt and accepting the accompanying charges of paying the cost of the goat and the damages) or going to court. Scared that the goat owner and his powerful friends would demolish him in court, he decided to pay the fine. Thankfully the insurance will pay the other costs, but this poor man now has this crime on his permanent record.
The second run-in with the law was last week, as we were driving to Chirundu. The speed limit was 80 and we were going down a hill, when the radar gun was put to our car. A cop ran out into the street waving a neon yellow flag to make us stop. Our driver (Christoph’s grandfather) was confident that he was going the speed limit. It turns out he was going 86kph. Not a big deal right? Certainly not worth stopping a car, I thought. According to the police officer, 85 is acceptable, but not 86. Arguing ensued. It became entirely obvious to me that the officer was trying to get a bit of under-the-table –cash from us, which I had heard was common. Sure enough, he told us that our ticket would be X amount of dollars, but that if we paid cash (no receipt) he would only charge us $10. Grampa talked it down to $5, paid the fee, and went on his way, but I was incensed at the situation. I would have paid the higher fee (with receipt) rather than give that filthy man $5. I mean, I understand that police officers make less than $200 per month (in a country whose minimum wage is $55, though, so it’s not thaaaaat bad), but still.
You getting a picture of the way the law works here?