In praise of Bali’s corrupt cops
It’s not
often you read a story complimenting Bali’s sticky-fingered law enforcers,
particularly after their exposure by Dutch entrapment artist Van Der Spek.
He’s the
bareheaded bikie who You-Tubed a traffic policeman taking a bribe to waive the
ticket. It’s an arresting video.
Anyway,
here’s my cautionary tale.
Some time
ago in Kuta we needed rupiah. Then, as now, there was no shortage of
moneychangers along Jl Legian offering juicy rates, far sweeter than those posted
at banks and hotels.
Keen to
‘maximise returns on investments’ as bankers say (aka ‘greedy’) we chose the
top offer in town. What did it matter
that the rate ended in an odd number and the bank was a dirty desk in an unlit
corner of an overstocked clothing and artefact store?
Of course I
knew of caveat emptor, but I was one big Westerner who’d studied maths at uni
and was armed with a real calculator.
No little local with a doctored abacus was going to outsmart me.
The
friendly shopkeeper apologised for his lack of large denomination notes, but,
he chuckled, five, ten and 20 thousand rupiah notes were legal tender, even
though well worn and confusing to outsiders. Of course. Ha, ha.
I laid down
$500 in traveler’s cheques to one side of the counter. A curious assistant sauntered across to watch
his colleague and make small talk.
“Where was I from and how much did I pay for the camera?” Nice fellow.
The suckers
enjoyed the chat and watched the piles of notes grow, get resorted, moved and
double counted. Handshakes all
round. Receipts? Not necessary
Back in the
hotel we were hit by reality and a Rp 600,000 shortfall. The righteous receptionist said I should
have used their service and ridiculed requests to call the police.
“They won’t
come,” she said. But they did in
minutes, five young muscle men in casual clothes, pistols in belts, and a jeep.
They drove
us back to the shop. The moneychanger
denied knowledge. One cop walked round
the counter and started ransacking the desk. Another barged his way into the
back room.
Their mates
started manhandling stock. Roughly.
Very roughly. Soon fragile goods would tumble off shelves, clothes would rip,
artwork shatter. Customers fled. The
staff blanched.
It seemed
the confrontation would turn violent. Maybe getting our money back wasn’t such
a good idea. The scene was like a movie
about the prohibition era with American cops raiding a sly grog shop.
If the
police were trying to make an impression on a greenhorn foreigner then they
were doing a splendid job.
Our cheques
were found. One officer tapped the cheat’s chest and invited a refund. Rp 200,000 was offered. Clumsy cops started bumping into the
furniture. A further Rp 200,000
appeared. Belts were hitched and
sidearms adjusted. The rest of the
money jumped onto the desk.
Back in the
jeep I congratulated the cops and told them that in my country the police would
have just taken statements. They’d need search warrants. Lawyers would get involved. Should charges be laid the case would take months
to reach court.
The chances
of the artless dodger getting more than a warning and me my cash would be
slight. But here in Indonesia a fraud
had been fixed in a flash and the criminal given one hell of a fright. Instant justice – brilliant!
Happy to
help, said the sergeant, all part of the service. Just one small issue –
there’s another difference between Australian and Indonesian police; we locals
are badly paid.
I rapidly
reckoned Rp 100,000 split between five men was a fair price, and an appropriate
penalty for my own stupidity.
Corruption? Technically, yes. Effective? Absolutely.
Qualms? A few and evaporating.
Back in
Bali this year I tried a different shop to see if the scam was still
alive. Sorry, Pak, only small notes
available. My friend just likes watching and chatting. You’re right, the light
needs fixing. Cute camera, what did you pay? Now how much do you want?
So nothing
changes - and thanks to Van Der Spek we know the police are still
accommodating.
(First published in The Sunday Post 28 April 2013)
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