Evening of July 4, Gila wants to go to the Malecon, and take photos of the beautiful carribean sunset. Wisely, we had enacted a "do not travel alone" rule. So, I accompany Gila, carrying nothing but 3 pesos.
There I was, enjoying the sunset on a road which goes around a good bit of Havana city, and has a nice broad sidewalk as well, where people stroll, and, in the area where we were standing, men were fishing with some rig including tin cans and wire. Being the curious person that I am, I was watching this fishing mechanism. The next thing I know, Gila is shouting, and a kid is trying to grab her camera from her hand. She fended him off, but his partner had grabbed her bag, which she had stuck under her leg, and was booking it.
So, we take off after them. Across a 4 lane road, jumping over a gully, and then sprinting across an old stadium, where people were out jogging. We were shouting (not knowing much spanish) "Hey" and " Arrete" and "Mi Bolsa". A few people watched us, but none seemed to intervene. I'm booking it across the field, when at the end, they disappear into a group of boys playing volleyball. We ask around, and no one saw anything. (but of course. they never do.)
Then, some guys tell us to follow them - that they know where the thieves are. We are skeptical, but willing to try. So we follow, and lo and behold - around the corner is a police car, with a cop holding Gila's bag. The bag is returned to us.
If only the story ended there. It would have been predictably boring, I could have come home with a nice story about the efficiency of the cuban police, and all would be well. But NO. The police tell us that we must get in the car, because they caught the culprit and we need to identify him. So, we get in, because you aren't supposed to argue with police. (Note the irony. Read blog from 2004) We drive around the corner, identify the scoundrel and try to get out of the car. But, there are no door handles in the back of the car. We are caged. The police then drives us further - upon questioning, he says we are just going to meet up with the other officers. We park on a main street, just 8 or so blocks from the school of public health, where we were staying. There, the police say we need to make a statement, and they must write it down. So, right there, on the main street, we act out the events. (If we could speak spanish, a great deal of this story may not have occured).
They write some stuff down, and we say we are going to go. The police says they will drive us back. "Pero - es a qui. Es en calle I." They don't listen. We get back in the car. And...they drive right past the school.
"Where are you taking us? ". Apparently, to the station. Gila was getting scared at this point, but I tried to tell her that we were together, and it would be ok. Apparently, a formal statement had to be made. Upon reaching the station, we are greeted by a couple. They heard our shouts, and flagged down a cop for us. Now, they had come to the station. Who knows why. But, they speak english. We learn that we must make the statement. That it will only be a short time. We reply that our colleagues will be looking for us, and will be worried. We need to go back, and can return the following day. But, in the experience of the police, tourists never return. So instead, they trick them into going to the station, and then hold them hostage.
We negotiate a compromise. Drive us back to the school, so we can inform our colleagues, and then we will make the statement. So, back into the car. Did I mention the seat in the back is molded plastic, so there is nothing to grab as you slide around? They wait downstairs. The guards at ENSAP are alerted, and do nothing to help. So, we inform, and get back into the car...but do we return to the station? Of course not.
We are taken to the Calixto Garcia Hospital, where Gila must be examined and a form must be filled out. A visible injury would be good, because then the thief can be punished more. But, the extremely good looking Argentinian resident (of ENT or something totally unrelated) finds nothing. The police are disappointed. So is the dog which followed us into the hospital.
Back to the station, where we muddle through a statement. But it was given to a junior officer. So the captain comes in, and we repeat the statement. The other guy is typing it up...the computer was modern enough. But, in order to print it out, he inserted a piece of carbon paper and a piece of white paper into the dot-matrix printer, and instead of ink, the words were ingeneously transferred to the white page with carbon paper. They do not take us home. By this point, a bit of commotion had developed in the courtyard of the station. We are alone in the station office, wringing our hands. A man enters, and knocks on the office door; we open it.
He pleads with us. PLEADS with us not to incriminate his son. His son is a good boy. This is his first crime. We are confused. Scared. We tell him we already identified the thief. A cop comes back and shoes him away. And then we learn. We have to do a line-up. The commotion outside are the families of the youth they have rounded up. We are alone again, contemplating the absurdity of the situation, when the father returns. This time, we are really getting scared. Who allows the families of the suspects to speak with the accusers? The police are nowhere to be found. We are vulnerable.
Finally, they are ready for the lineup. After this, they promise to take us back. Gila asks if the suspects will be able to see us, and we are assured that they will not. What they do not tell us, and we realize as we are walking through the station, is that we pass by all of the families of the suspects, waiting for their sons. So much for anonymity.
Imagine a long rectangular room, with a door at one end, and a crude wall in the middle of this room. On one side of the wall are the suspects. On the other side, we stand. All of us have entered through the same door. The wall is made of wooden slats (like venetian blinds). Some of the slats are broken, but on the whole, the slats are closed and we cannot see the boys. The instructions are given. And then, the slats are turned so that we can see through. But if we can see them...can't they see us? Thief identified, we walk past the parents again, and we are led outside, finally, to get into a car to take us back. But then, the cops are discussing which car to take, and the family of the thief comes back...this time, mother and father. The cops do nothing for a while, as we are looking helpless, and finally tell them to bug off. As we are driven back, we ask what the sentance will be.
6 years.
