interrogation
by a lone female
Phnom Penh, Cambodia
He pulls out his red and white striped truncheon and with his other hand pointing down towards the ground, fingers scooping the air as if they’re doggy-paddling, signals me to come closer.
Great.
It’s the first time I’ve been without passport, having just left them all at the Chinese Embassy, and that’s the time a policeman decides to investigate. I flashback to one of Rob’s first outings in Poland….he ended up in a police cell for a morning when caught without his passport. He even got a uniformed escort back to our apartment…and it happened to be the day he had lent his key to a student, who was coming to live with us, so he couldn’t get in – yeah, likely story the police obviously thought.
I press my hands together in polite greeting and use up a quarter of my Khmer vocabulary in one hit! Never mind, one of the other two policemen standing behind the tree, speaks English.
“Where baby?”
Huh?
He plays charades, indicating a baby in a wrap on his hip.
Oh! Yesterday I had walked this road with ER2, looking for the embassy, which was marked incorrectly on the map. This morning I was returning with filled-out visa applications, but without the “baby”.
“Guesthouse.” I’ve taken to just using important lexical items.
“Good baby?”
“Yes.”
“Where from?”
“New Zealand.”
“Very much.”
Huh? again. Maybe he’s saying it’s far away and so I nod.
Am I free to go?
It would appear not. Mr Policeman has some advice for me.
“Go motorbike. No walk. Much easy.”
He’s right; it would be easier to hop on the back of the motorbikes that stop every few metres along the road offering a ride. But our insurance covers everything EXCEPT motorbike accidents and every accident we’ve seen so far has involved at least one bike.
I walk on. No-one else walks. Everyone else either drives their 4WD or shares a bike or tuktuk with a few others or lets an old man cyclo them wherever they are going.
For the second time in one morning I’m signalled at by a downward-pointing hand. This time by a group of tuktuk drivers congregating on a street corner. They were there playing cards when I walked past both times yesterday and today they’re equally busy.
“Hello Madame. Where from?”
“KHMER GREETING. New Zealand.”
No more time is wasted on pleasantries. He cuts straight to the chase.
“Why you walk?”
“I like to walk.”
“You hot.”
“Yes, but walking is good for me.”
“Good for you, but not for us.”
Everyone laughs and I’m free to continue on my way.
Photos all taken by Rob.
I had said, “Could you get a picture of a cyclo while you’re out?”
He wasn’t gone long and I haven’t even used all his pictures!
PS When we go to pick up our visas, Mr Plod the Policeman is at his post. He smiles and waves and shakes hands and hugs, saying “New Zealand. Good baby.” We request permission for a photo and he happily obliges….here he is….the actual man…..
Tags: health, postcard: Cambodia, transport
rayres
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