Laurette at the Police Station
PLEASE EXCUSE English errors and typos as due to time and priorities, I have little editing time :)
Today I needed to be up at the camp very early so I decided to drive the rental car. A few volunteers and I had the afternoon off and were excited to get an early start to tour the island. The camp is up an enormous hill and is a former military barrack. In the photo below, it is the white series of buildings going up the mountain side.
After finishing my work at the camp I walked to the car only to find a pink police ticket on the windshield… Oh my, my first parking ticket! As the ticket was written all in Greek, I had no idea what it said, why I got it nor how much it was. I immediately drove back to the hotel and as I got out of the car and got my backpack out of the trunk, I noticed the car had no license plates on the back. I immediately ran to the front and saw none there either. Oh no- had someone stolen my plates or was this part of the parking ticket?
Once inside the hotel they helped translate the parking ticket. It was for 40Euros but if paid within a few days 20Euros which needed to be paid at the local post office. I could handle that but that’s not all it was. I then needed to go to the car rental place followed by a trip to the police station to see if I could get my plates back. So much for getting an early start to tour the island. Today was going to be a bureaucratic day to put it mildly! At the post office waiting in a long line I noticed many signs and advertisements around me. They tended to have only 1 or 2 words in English and the rest in Greek so I had no idea what they were. I was only hoping that I was standing in the right line!
I was in the right line and off I went to the car rental office to tell them the story and see if they could help. The man at the car rental knows Samos Volunteers but I’m not sure how often he has had to retrieve license plates from the police and escort and defend people like me! We headed to the police station which, in my mind, looked like an official public office in many developing countries. Many office doors closed, few signs and not much activity happening. I was praying they hadn’t taken their siesta yet. Does the police office take a siesta, I wondered. My escort asked a few people some questions and waved my driver’s license and his car rental agreement around. We went into an office and he asked many questions and then we went into the next office and he did the same but this time raised his voice and asked me to talk. I explained in English where I had parked and that there were no signs and I was sorry and I promised not to do it again. I was still not sure exactly what I had done but obviously it was wrong. (I did later learn that I had parked too close to the gate entrance at the camp). We were then asked to be seated and wait. Wait for what, I asked. Wait for the head police official who was a woman. I was pleased to hear that there was a woman as chief of police however I had not seen a single woman since we entered the building hours ago. I could see efficiency was not going to be the word of the day here.
In the background, I could hear people screaming and crying in a very loud voice and asked my escort if by chance this was also the jail. He said it was a small jail and the wails we were hearing were refugees. That seemed a bit odd to me as I wondered what happened and why they would be crying so loud for so long. I knew I would never find out. A man, not a woman, finally walked out with my plates and I don’t think license plates will every have the same meaning for me. I did later learn that they were allowed to hold the plates for 3–5 days on all cars except rental cars which must be returned immediately and that was the reason my escort was raising his voice. Good he knew the rules and I was grateful he came with me as I have a feeling I would still be sitting there waiting.
On our way out, the crying and screaming of men’s voices grew louder as we were getting closer. My heart was pounding as I didn’t know what to expect. I then saw refugees who were shackled to the chair with their hands and feet. My heart sank to my stomach. As I glanced at them, they stopped crying, I nodded my head and acknowledged them and walked out the door. Once again, I had to bite my lip to keep from bursting into tears. Why were they shackled to the chair? Was that necessary? It was hard to start thinking about our delayed day trip given what I just saw yet I wasn’t sure what I could do. I decided to text the leader of Samos Volunteers just to explain what had happened, that I wasn’t in jail :) and what I saw at the police station. He was very grateful to know and said he would contact the human rights lawyer we work with as this had happened in the past as well. He later texted me that the lawyer went to the police station, the refugees unshackled which was good for me to hear and helped me continue my day. I’m beginning to feel like I need to have one foot in and one foot out. To me this means that I can only do so much while I am here and try to be in their world and help and still take care of myself knowing that I will be leaving. Otherwise it is too hard on me psychologically. I do take care of myself by staying in the moment at the exquisite sites. The sunset last night!
