A slightly uncomfortable interaction with some slightly angry guards

We had an interesting interaction with the Cameroonian army/police (I can never tell them apart).  We were riding to Bamenda, when our cab was stopped at a checkpoint about half way there.  We drive through this checkpoint every time we go.  Sometimes there are people there, sometimes not, but we never stop.  An excitable young man in an army uniform came up to the cab yelling something about ID.  We couldn't really hear him because the radio was so loud, and was stuck there, presumably for the life of the car. The Cameroonians were handing him their government IDs, but we tried to explain to him that we did not have such IDs, which should have been apparent from our glaring whiteness.  He wanted to see our passports.  Two of the three of us had them, but we didn't want to disclose who didn't, and we tried to explain that we were not in the habit of carrying them in case they got lost.  We offered to bring them the next day, however he simply laughed at this and ordered us out of the car.  At this point an interesting dual-natured good cop/bad cop, good suspect/bad suspect routine ensued.  As I have written earlier, in the marketplace the normal interaction involves a lot of angry yelling and accusation, after which a mutual agreement is met, and all parties are happy and smiling.  Mary attempted to use this model with the young guard, being confrontational about how we have never been asked for ID, and that this was highly unusual, and that the policy must have changed within the last two days as we had just been to Bamenda, and had no such requirement. The young guard (bad cop) was becoming increasingly irate, however only spoke Pidgin and French, and so we really could only tell that he was acutely-on-chronically unhappy.  Enters good cop: a slightly older police officer who was slightly calmer, however also holding a rather large machine gun.  He explained that because of the upcoming election, the police are checking the ID of every person traveling, every day, for the last three months.  Again, this is totally untrue, but who were we to argue.  We asked if we could go back to get the ID, or bring it tomorrow.  He wanted the one without ID to wait while the others went back.  We had no intention of disclosing which of us did not have ID, and certainly were not going to leave one person at the "military outpost" while we spent an hour getting the ID.  I asked him if I could pay him a 'fine' directly for our forgetfulness.  Either he didn't catch that this was an attempted bribe, or I wasn't subtle enough, or he actually was committed to his job, but he explained that this was not an issue of money, but rather that he had his job to do.  He then informed that until we produced papers, we were in the custody of the police, and were not able to leave (eek).  At least he was remaining calm, and never raised the machine gun to imply that, in fact, he was making the rules at the moment.  I apologized for our ignorance of the law, and insisted that we meant no disrespect to him or his country, but that we were not willing to leave one person here while the others went to get the ID.  I handed him my pocket medical-card (a copy of my US license that I carry with me) and explained that this is a very valuable card to me, and that I cannot practice medicine without it, and that if he would keep that it would guarantee that we would return with the IDs soon, as I had to get it back.  He told me that if I didn't return it wouldn't matter, as they would then have my name, and would call Yaunde airport to inform them that I was not allowed to leave the country (I resisted the temptation to tell him that was fine, as I was flying out of Douala).  He went to check with his boss, and returned a moment later, handing me the card, and saying that we could go about our business, but not to forget our ID again.  I gave him very flowery "thank you my friend" handshake, and apologized again.  The bad cop then ran up "Hey, Doctor, you di no tell me you speak French"  I informed him that I don't speak French.  He informed me that I do.  I again insisted that was not the case.  His contention was that if I worked in the hospital caring for French-speaking patients, then I must speak French.  I tried to discuss my use of interpreters, however he then began yelling at me in Pidgin that in "Dis country I am big man" and that not to allow disrespectful speech.  I placated his ego, which I can only assume was fragile due to the fact that he was a good six-inches shorter than the rest of the guards, and told him "yes, sir, you are the big man, and we di not mean no disrespect"  After that it was actually a fairly nice trip to Bamenda.