As part of the continuing effort not to leave Bishkek without seeing the relatively few "touristic" sites it actually has, I set out on Sunday for the Osh Bazaar, the largest open-air market in Bishkek.The bazaar itself is about 3 km West of the city center, and as I live about 3 km East of the city center, it was going to be a good hike. Sure, there are buses and trolleys that run that exact route, but I brought hiking shoes to Bishkek for a reason.
It has finally gotten warm in Kyrgyzstan, so for a day of hiking, I decided to go with my "tech" cargo pants - thin material that stays cool and dries fast. It also has zip-off legs, but I've noticed that only Germans and children wear shorts (so far) in Bishkek - and I'm neither.
So in a t-shirt (who do I need to impress?), cargo "tech" pants, hiking shoes, and my trusty backpack (thanks Mary Tev, circa 1999), I set out for a "tourist" day.
The big danger in looking like a Tourist in Bishkek is not from pick-pockets or assault, but from the kind of low-level graft associated with the local police. They aren't out to hurt anyone or make a scene, they just want to see if they can scam or slip a few som (cash) off you through "inspections" or unusual "fines."
These are the tactics I had been told about, and was theoretically prepared to deal with.
For example, when a police officer asks to see your passport, simply hand over a photocopy. You can claim your passport is at the American Embassy, and they can't really follow-up because all they wanted was to shake you for some quick cash.
Further, you should never let police see, much less hold, your cash. Some of it will certainly wind up missing.
Finally, don't let police go through your bags. Ostensibly, this is a "narcotics" search, but in reality it is looking for more cash (to swipe), or in the worst-case scenario, the planting of narcotics in your bag, which is then results in threats of arrest and demands of payment (bribes) for you to go free.
Don't let this get you too freaked out.
First of all, these are commons schemes not only in Central Asia, but in much of Eastern Europe where I traveled last summer, and are frankly quite tame by virtually any international standard (I'm looking at you, Canada). I dare say anyone who has spent time traveling would laugh at this being the most nefarious threat.
Let it be known - after living in Bishkek for 3 weeks and frequenting several tourist hot spots, I've not experienced any of these annoyances.
Until Sunday. Apparently my "disguise," unintentional as it was, turned out to be a little too good.
Shockingly, my (first) run in was Not at the Osh Bazaar, but instead en route, as I was crossing through Ala-Too square, the epicenter of downtown Bishkek.
There I was, minding my own business, when Suddenly(!), a police officer signaled me over to his cruiser. I was, to be honest, surprised. One look at the officer (to my right), one look at the sidewalk straight ahead of me. Ignoring him and continuing on my way seemed viable, I could probably pretend I hadn't heard him, though the look had hurt those chances.
As I approached the car, I noticed there was another officer in the back seat, and a third sauntered up behind me to join them.
"Passport_" Hhonestly, not sure if this was followed by a "." or a "?"; the difference being more important than you might imagine.
Dammit. Sure, why not.
Hence proceeded a 10 minute episode of the absurd.
"Amerikanski?" "da."
After a quick passport parousal:
"Tejas?" "da."
The man in back looked through my passport over and over. The man in front tried to make small talk. It was generally polite, discussing how nice Bishkek is, etc. I kept looking around, impatiently until they found the business card for Parliamentary Vice-Speaker Isabekov (I snagged one on my visit to his office earlier and made a point of keeping it tucked into my passport).
I was hoping, smugly, this "ace" would resolve all my problems.
Not so, but it did seem to help a little.
"Isabekov friend?" "da."
There was a short pause, then my passport was handed back, and the police officers asked me if I wanted to buy them some cigarettes.
I declined, and proceeded on my way. No harm, no foul.
But it didn't bode well for later.
At the Osh bazaar, I made a point of keeping my eyes out for police officers. I managed to casually circumnavigate one officer, but was sighted by another as I paroused the impressive stalls of the spice merchants. The officer, and his assistant patrolman, approached me very politely.
"Hello, Hello. American?"
here we go again. - "Da."
"You are here with friends?"
"No, alone." (not the smartest solution. Alt= "No, my friend Bektash is somewhere.")
"Narcotics?" "Nyet."
Seriously. Why would an American be walking around in the most likely place in all of Kyrgyzstan to get searched while in possession of narcotics?
"tourist?"
"Da - tourist. Student."
Here I tried to play my Ace of Clubs - "Practicum (intern) with Radio Azattyk."
I had been told that police would not mess with Azattyk people. As an organization it is well known in Bishkek, generally aligned with the US, and not to be touched.
"Narcotics?" Like a Zombie Stallion, this was a dead horse they weren't going to quit beating (thank you, Colbert).
"Nyet."
"Please; you come with us to Police Station?"
Hm. tough call. I have no reason to go to the station, but how much more trouble am I going to go through by refusing? It's this kind of low level polite intimidation that I fell for.
"sure."
We had a nice talk on the way to the station (conveniently located within the Bazaar, but around no less than 3 corners. It was pretty isolated, but I felt a little more comfortable in that I never went through any doors (in other words, nothing locked me in).
At the station, they asked to see my passport. Sure.
Ace of Spades - "Isabekov?"
"Da" (no immediate effect - strike 2).
Then it was time to search my bag. Bummer.
I made a point of opening my bag one pocket at a time, taking out all the items (myself), and replacing all the items immediately back in the pocket they came from.
When they realized I didn't have any money in my bag (I don't carry more than small cash with me), they seemed less interested, but still insisted on me emptying my pockets. Bummer again.
Cell phone. House keys. Pen.
Reluctantly I pulled out my "wallet" - basically a plastic card holder with business cards in it. I slip cash into its fold, which can then be easily slipped out of the "wallet" when necessary.
"Azattyk" he asks again, seeing the card on top. "da." Maybe that ace wasn't a deuce afterall.
Then they proceeded to pat me down.
Not as much of a violation as you might imagine, but certainly annoying, and it did nothing to dispel the sense of authority. Being that I was wearing cargo pants, it took a little while.
They did find my cash (still in my pocket where I removed it before pulling out my wallet), and asked me to remove it.
I pulled it out one bill at a time and set it on the table in sequence, not in a stack. I wasn't playing this game very well, but James T. BumbleF*ck I am not.
"Ok, very good." It looked like I cleared this hurdle.
Then something surprising.
"Do you have any questions for me?"
Having just been physically searched, and I must admit feeling a bit intimidated despite the very low-key nature and abundant witnesses in the "station" (there were at least 6 people in the room). I was 95% sure they hadn't gotten anything of mine, so aside from another 10 minutes, and a sliver of privacy that honestly I wouldn't miss, I hadn't lost anything yet. The downside was, I wasn't thinking as clearly as I should have been. All I wanted was to leave.
"No, no questions. Can I go?"
"Yes, have a nice day."
I kid you not - "Have a nice day."
I was 20 yards away from the station when my brain kicked back into full gear. First thing I did was find a corner to re-count my money. all there. Then I did a quick inventory of my belongings in the bag - everything accounted for.
Then I thought of a question: "Can I take your picture?"
OPPORTUNITY MISSED! That would have been so Bold!
First, it would have given me a point of reference (I forgot to get the officers name/rank, another good way to limit casual abuses); Second it would have substantially reduced the likelihood of the officer getting testy, and finally, it would have been a great (very touristy) memento for this blog, among other things.
Plus it would have been Badass.
And I could have played it off along with either a) my Super-Touristic "I take pictures of everything" regalia, or b) my Azattyk "I'm a journalist" bluff.
So why did you just read an enormous post about a commonplace shakedown and the amazing thing I didn't do?
Because I accomplished 3 things on that Sunday, which are relevant to me personally, and hopefully of use/interest to the rest of you.
1) I finally went and saw the Osh Bazaar, a necessary tourist stop, but not really worth revisiting, regardless of police scrutiny.
2) Having been "through the process," I now feel considerably more confident in my ability to deal with it in the future. When the Isabekov card needs to be played, I will play it more forcefully. When that fails, I will use Azattyk more actively - "My Internship said to call their office before I go with any officer."
3) It put into perspective for me what intimidation is all about. I've lead a sheltered life. I've never faced repression, menace, or physical violence. I'm not one to confront authority openly - preferring to circumvent it in meaningless, petty, clansdesinely ways: I hoisted a "borrowed" french flag up the flag pole as a Senior prank in High School; I ran an underground satire newspaper in college; I registered as a Democrat but vote independently. Not exactly shaking the pillars of power.
Nor do I want to.
Many of my family and friends worry that I'm putting myself in danger by being in Bishkek, let alone discussing issues that are politically sensative.
I am, frankly, embarrassed by their concern. While I certainly appreciate where it comes from, I know only enough to say that I am far too cowardly to actually perpetrate the kind of actions that would attract hostile attention. Despite my principles and convictions, I have not - and will not - pursue them anywhere near the realm of that which could even possibly get me into trouble.
And the real journalists, especially the Central Asians in Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan - the people who do pursue information at great personal risk - can't possibly look upon my situation with anything less than derision. Not only am I doing nothing risky, I'm doing nothing risky under the umbrella of US citizenship.
So the "disguise" was really more of a mirror. I am just a tourist here in Bishkek, and I am susceptible to the same stupid tricks and intimidations as every other naive traveler.
On the other hand - let's check the scoreboard:
2 police inspections.0 money lost.0 bad experiences.
I guess that means I'm "winning" ?
Weber (on the lamb)
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