Forthnights

Hey, Mr Policeman

Ever since I started being a road user, I have never liked coming in contact with the police. To me, it always meant trouble. Mind you, our local police enforcement suffers a bit of an image problem, with graft and corruption widely publicized. But then again, for the first few years of my driving, I didn’t have a driving license, hence my dislike in seeing a policeman on the road.

I was riding my motorbike home. As I turn into one corner, I realized what was ahead; a police road block. I had not come across one of this in a while. More importantly, the last time I came across one, I was without a license and was left with a stern warning and a $50 fine to boot. This time round, I was ready with my license. So they stopped me, and I gladly gave the officer my license for inspection. “It’s nice to be a law abiding road user for a change” I thought to myself. The officer gave me a quick look over, and since he couldn’t fine anything to book me with, he reluctantly (so it seemed to me) return my license card and I was on my way again. Half pleased with myself, half annoyed at the untrusting face on the officer as I left.

I went first to my friends place to get some work done. While I was there, he was telling me about a friend of ours who was robbed today in the evening. She had lost her bag, along with her wallet, cell phone and laptop; snatched by 2 people on motorbikes. “AGAIN!” I couldn’t believe it.

Just 2 weeks ago, on my birthday in fact, a fellow student from our college was stabbed in the head and hand, just nearby the college. The 2 men on motorbike came up to him and his friend slashed and stabbed them and went off with his wallet. 2 hours later, just over a mile away, another student was robbed and left with a slashed hand. Many suspected it was done by the same people. It caused a big uproar in the neighbourhood and the issue was featured prominently in the local media. “Where are the police?” people complained. “Why did they take an hour before arriving?” Why were the street lights not repaired?” A lack of man power was cited by the police, but people were angry. “The police are corrupt. The police are slow. The police are not doing their job.” People didn’t want to hear excuses. A boy died and its someones fault. Unfortunately for the police, people felt it was them. Something like this was just waiting to happen.

A classmate of mine woke up 2 mornings in a row to find a hand, reaching in from the window, trying to grab at whatever was there. She was too terrified to open the curtains and she feared that the robber would recognize her face and come after her. Another classmate told of a person trying to open their living room door, thinking there was no one at home. In both cases, the robbers ran off in a motrorbike once they knew they were discovered. Many of my friends carry pepper spray and one friend even carries around a retractable baton. “Looks like its up to us to take care of ourselves. The police are too busy taking bribes to care.” I thought to myself. After I was done, I went home, feeling safer on my bike then on foot.

As I approached home, to my utter surprise, there was ANOTHER road block, and again, I was stopped, license and registration checked. This time, the officer was taking my details down and the model of my motorbike. I asked him what was the matter, he said they were just gathering information on motorbike users because of the high rate of motorbike thefts. “Its about time you people did some work.” I secretly thought. I even ventured to complain and tell the officer about my beloved motorbike, stolen 2 months ago in this very neighbourhood. “We’ll keep looking. In the mean time, just take good care of your current bike.” The officer replied.

I arrived to my doorstep about to open my door. But from downstairs, 3 men shouted out to me to stop. My first instinct was to quickly get into the house. These 3 men were highly suspicious, hanging around our neighbourhood. As the 3 men came up, I was visible wary of them. They said they were police, but they were in plain cloths, so I didn’t really trust them. I asked for their identification and they showed me their badges. Somewhat relieved, I asked them what was the matter. “Just my luck. They stop me twice on the road, and now they come to my doorstep. This cant be a good day.” I thought to myself. But boy was I wrong.

People say miracles don’t really happen. When I lost my motorbike, I was devastated. My world came crashing down in a way. Actually in was the trust in myself that came crashing down. Reports say that in the big city, a motorbike gets stolen every few minutes on average. The number of stolen motorbikes in Malaysia is staggering, and the chances of finding it back is next to impossible. Or so I was told. Though I hoped against hope that my motorbike would be found and the culprit punished, I knew it was impossible. I had resigned to my fate and bought another old bike just a month ago in order to get around. People say miracles don’t really happen, but it did for me.

The next few words from the officer blew me away. “Your motorbike has been found.” It sounded almost like a joke, but from the seriousness of their tone, and the fact that they waited 3 hours for me outside my doorstep, I had to believe it was real. These 3 men, looked more like people who steal bikes rather than find them. But they were bearers of the most wonderful news I have heard in a long long time, and it wasn’t that my bike was found. Yes, my bike has been found. But the really really wonderful news to me was that miracles CAN happen. Hope is not for the foolish after all. And for once, something genuinely good has happened to me. In a time when everything that could go wrong went wrong for me, with my mother running away and me running out of cash, for things to go right on its own without my own effort seemed like a distant dream; a foolish hope.

After I lost that bike, there was nothing more I wanted but to turn back time and undo that stupid moment of carelessness. Today, what I have lost has been returned to me, though in a way I feel undeserving of it. But for the moment, I’m just happy. It’s a miracle indeed to have lost and found again. For some reason, it makes me just want to sing Amazing Grace! Also, I’m left with the question “What am I going to do with 2 bikes?” But I figure “Hey, that’s a good problem to have.”

posted by Compulsive Blogger @ 10:36 pm Comments: 1