writing | High Five
That time I got taken off a flight out on India and interrogated by border security, police and intelligence services. Fun times.
“You’ve made the paper.” came a voice from behind the newspaper in front of me.
“What? No. Really?” I asked, surprised.
Paul handed me the paper and pointed to a short piece. I neither spoke nor read Urdu and he knew this.
He laughed and said “trust me my friend, you’ve made the paper”
I was sitting in the foyer of the Salvation Army hostel in Chennai that Paul managed. I’d spent the last three days here with a group I’d been leading across South India on their school expedition.
The trip had gone well but I was tired and ready to go home. Arriving in Cochi three weeks earlier, the team had traveled via boat, train and bus, working our way from the west coast to east to end up here.
There were other guests and friends of Paul milling about the foyer. A cola branded fridge in the corner hummed and the ceiling fan was working hard in the humid morning heat. The smell of food drifted in from a nearby kitchen and the loud buzzing sound of traffic racing up and down the street outside interrupted the serene atmosphere inside.
Chennai was a city I took an instant dislike to. The last few weeks had been quiet and the air cleaner in the mountains. The team had settled into expedition life as we relaxed and enjoyed the journey. But this city was bustling with traffic and the noise and pollution messed with my senses.
The juxtaposition of the rich and poor in close proximity was in our face to see every day. Piles of rubbish and stinking puddles in the poorer districts and shiny new buildings and clean pavements in others. I’d spent the last three weeks enjoying my time only to have it abruptly shattered.
While I found some of the people we’d met in the last few days to be genuine and friendly, I couldn't wait to get away as the memories I’d made were tarnished..
We packed into the mini-bus, saying our goodbyes to Paul and his family. Driving through the city at 4AM felt different. Through the neon white of the street lights it all looked eerie and dystopian. The roads were quiet, none of the tuk tuks or taxis darting about, no bikes or motorcycles dodging through crowds. Some cities do need to sleep and reset.
Arriving at the airport we checked our bags in and went to passport control. Being the team lead I saw the students and teachers through and then went through myself. Putting my bag on the conveyor belt I went through the x-ray to pick it up at the other end.
On the other side I was stopped and asked to unpack it. Thinking nothing of it I proceeded to empty the contents into a grey container.
“What’s this?” the guard asked, holding up the yellow brick.
“Its a device used to track our group and send text messages in an emergency”
“Is it a phone?”
“No, there is no voice capability on it, you can only send text”
“How does it work?”
“I think it uses satellite signals to send the message”
“No, not allowed, please come with me”
And that was it. I was ushered to one side where I was asked more questions by two security guards. David, one of the senior teachers, tried to explain to them that it was a text device and we were on a school trip. It was in vain. Satellite phones are banned in India and, despite the brick having no phone capability, it seemed they wanted to nick me.
I was pulled off the flight and told I’d be escorted back through customs. The kids didn't come round to say goodbye for fear of causing a massive scene but the teachers did. They handed me a fist full of money in case I needed it and we said our goodbyes.
I’d shared a room with David for most of the trip and our banter had kept us both sane. He was tired and desperate for me to leave with them.
“I can't stay, Paul, I have to see them home” he said, barely containing tears.
“It's fine mate, I wouldn't expect any of you to stay, I’ll be fine, get yourselves home.” I took some paper and wrote down Sally’s mobile number. “Send her a message when you can, tell her I’m OK and I’ll see her soon”
With that they left as I was escorted away.
Staying calm I switched on the in-country mobile and called the company I was working for to explain what was going on, telling them I’d keep them updated as they worked out things at their end.
I could see the two security guards who’d questioned me hi-fiving, thinking they’d collared some international criminal. That unsettled me but I pushed the feeling of slapping the stupid off their faces down and kept my head.
Sitting in the customs office I was asked more questions, repeating myself over, but trying to keep calm. The phone rang and it was the British consulate.
“You'll need to get a local solicitor” the guy on the other end of the phone explained.
“what for? Can you send someone to just help out?” I asked, thinking they just need to explain the mix-up.
“not at the minute, find out what's going on and where they're taking you and get back to us”
That was the last I heard from them. For a brief second I allowed myself to think about the international news reporting this but again shoved it down and away. Stupid thoughts.
I called Sally and explained what was happening. She’d already spoken to the company I was working for. I told her where I was going and said I would contact her when I could, but not to worry.
It was easy for me to say as I looked around the room, surrounded by security guards and customs officials.The room was just off from passport control and had large windows facing out to the public. A crowd had gathered to look at the stupid westerner.
Having been transferred to the local airport police station, I was now sitting while the security guards and customs people explained to the station chief who I was and what they’d found. He looked really pissed off, not by me but by the obvious fact I wasn't a spy or terrorist.
He asked me what I was doing in the country and I explained I was working on a school trip. His tone changed to even more pissed off and he directed it towards the two security guards. He said something and it dawned on them that they’d fucked up. Inside I imagined patting them on the back and saying “well done lads”.
What followed was around 10 hours of interrogation from customs, local police, state police, intelligence services. I had to tell them my life story, every job I’d worked in, family details, where I'd been in the country, names of people we worked with. I repeated every facet until I was starting to lose my voice.
They then asked if I had anyone I could stay with. I thought of Paul. They rang him and after a few hours he arrived. He verified my story and was put into his care.
They wanted to check the yellow brick and do background checks on my story. Taking my passport I was sent back into the city to stay with Paul.
Arriving back at the hostel, Paul said I could go back into the room I’d stayed in previously. It was clean but still stank of mothballs. I had a shower and called Sally, explaining everything. It was good to talk and hear her voice.
There was a knock at the door.
Paul handed me a tray of food “you need to eat something”
I took it “thanks Paul, you’ve been really good, you didn't have to help”
“It would not be very christian of me to abandon you. Eat and get some rest. We will know more tomorrow”
I’m not sure how but I actually slept soundly. I woke up and went down for breakfast. While I was eating I got a call from the Indian consulate. I explained what was happening and they said they would call me back later in the day.
While sitting around in the foyer, Paul got the call for us to go back to police station
“My family prayed for you last night” Paul told me.
I didn't know what to say. I don't have any religious beliefs but hearing his concern and how this could help eased my mind.
“Thank you Paul, that really helps” I looked out the window of the taxi and hoped I wouldn't be coming back into the city.
As we sat in the station I tried to make conversation with Paul. I sensed he wanted to be somewhere else like me. I was called into the office and sat with a female officer. Making me comfortable she asked if I wanted some food or a cup of tea. I accepted a cup of very milky tea.
I was expecting her to explain to me what was happening but we just sat there. I felt like one of the strange ornaments kept on the desk in front of her. An oddity for people to look at and ask questions. Not wanting to offend, I just sat there and kept quiet, sipping the tea.
The officer broke the silence. “Are you married?”
Not sure where this was going or what to say I thought about how to answer. I don’t think for one minute she meant anything by the question. My time in India had shown that the people are very up front when they ask questions. I think she was just interested in my background and why I wasn’t married at my age.
Before I could answer my phone rang. It was the Indian consulate again. After giving her an update she asked me to hand the phone to someone. I gave the phone to the friendly female officer and, after a short conversation, the smile disappeared as she handed the phone back.
Ah shit, something’s been said that offended her.
Pressing the phone to my ear. “Good news, they're letting you go, you just need to wait for the chief to arrive who will talk to you, ask you to sign something and give you your passport back.”
The tension in my shoulders lifted as I held back tears. They could wait till later. I smiled and said my thanks to her. I hung up and smiled at the officer who gave me a forced smile back.
“You can wait outside now” she said as she dismissed me and turned away to get on with whatever she was doing.
Outside I explained to Paul, who smiled and clapped his hands together in prayer. “Yes my friend, I knew you would be OK”
I rang the company I was working for. “I’m free to go, get me out of here please, rather than back to the UK I want to go to Geneva to see Sally.”
“Sure, leave it with us, we’ll get back to you”
I then called Sally. The relief in our voices said it all. For the last 24 hours I didn't know what was happening or if I’d see her again for a while. I had to keep all sorts of horror stories from my imagination at bay and blank everything out. I’d felt like a robot not wanting to show too much emotion, answering the same questions over and over without any expression. I was mentally shattered and couldn't wait to get out of here and see her again.
The chief arrived not long after. They couldn't find anything on the phone. I hadn't used it so knew they wouldn't and the fact they didn't ask for the pin and it was encrypted said to me it was just a token action on their behalf.
After signing a statement I got my passport back.
As he handed me the phone back he said “please go and have a safe journey, but be sure to leave in 24 hours. Put the phone in your luggage being checked in. Not in your hand luggage.” He handed me a piece of paper with his number on. “If you have any problems they can call me”
“Thank you sir. You and your officers have been nothing but friendly. I’m sorry to have caused all of this” I replied. He gave me a blank look and gestured for me to leave.
I was put up in the airport hotel for 12 hours while the next available connecting flights to Geneva worked their way through the cogs.
As I checked in I grabbed a handful of the complimentary sweets on the counter. Going back out I handed Paul the sweets and what money I had left, bar a few rupees for food later at the airport.
“The sweets are for your children. I’ll never forget what you did for me Paul. Your family's warmth will be something I’ll take with me whenever I travel”
“No problem my friend. Have a safe journey back and maybe one day we will see each other again”
I showered, ate and slept a little before getting a taxi back to the airport. I checked in and sailed through customs. After maybe 16 hours of travelling and a connecting flight in Dubai I arrived in Geneva.
I collected my bags and walked through arrivals to see Sally. I was so happy to see her. We sank into each other's arms. She smelt warm and clean and I knew I was home.