A Spanish lady
- Part 2 -

By Nameirakpam Bobo Meitei *

After the encounter with them I was rather sad that the morning contemplative walk was going to come to an end. The hunger inside was growing and I felt the urge to find a convenient store. It wouldn't be a problem the West had scattered its bits all over this place. The sight of the convenient store was close yet I still had to walk for another five minutes.

My hurrying steps stimulated by hunger was arrested by what my eyes spotted; another figure in front of a shuttered shop. Its legs curled up, the long curly hair scattered over the face and its hands dug in the hair. The clothes must have been pure white at some point, now they were stained with blood and dust.

The figure could easily have been misconstrued for another wretched in the city which could have been easily overlooked among the many. I couldn't say what made me look at the figure, as I stopped by to look the person raised her head and the face was framed by the long curly black hair.

The white mangled face was covered with bruises and curdled blood. I was astonished and the inquiry slipped out rondomly 'What happened to you? When did this happen?' She didn't respond to my queries, instead I was met with her lost queries ' Is this Barcelona? Madrid? I'm from Barcelona.'

I was spontaneous in my hasty response; I squatted beside her and asked if she was alright. She had been mugged after having been badly beaten up not long ago. There she was left unconscious and covered with bruises and the face was damaged beyond recognition. How could I continue walking leaving behind that mangled person who could speak no word of the local language?

I felt something must be done to aid her. My attempts to communicate with the ambulance service was met with ladies of sweet voices jabbering in some incoherent language without any willingness to acknowledge the obvious fact that the person on the other side of the phone was someone who spoke no words of the particular language.

The least that I could think of to undo the dawning perplexity was to hang up the phone. When it came to me that the thought of contacting the supposedly the ubiquitous tourist police, which I saw every now and then stopping by bustling bus stops to lay their greedy hands on desperate Burmese and Laotian workers.

I did call them and a lady with a meek voice answered the call, without asking what I wanted to say she went on jabbering in her language, confusing me. After having waited for a while I spoke to her in a calm tone mincing every word to ensure she understood. The lady squeaked and her expression seemed irritated and she hung up on me.

I felt humiliated but I couldn't afford to encourage that and the attention I had to pay made me able to overlook the grotesque incident. She was still at the same spot motionless, her hands dug in to her hair and the confused and shocked eyes casting at the ground. Watching this state compelled me to try for more help.

This time I called for 911 and other relevant numbers, I obtained the number from my friend who happened to be sitting in front of his computer. One of my calls was answered by a considerate person who also understood the situation, she put me through and on the other end was a male voice and the person fired off in an interrogative speed as though I was a suspect of some unfounded crime, ' Who is that woman? Do you know her? Who are you? How did you find her? Are you sure that you haven't done any harm?'.

This time the beast in me was active and it rose and it released its fury ' You fuck head! For fuck sake send some help, I'll answer your queries later.' He apparently didn't appreciate my words and just hung up on me. I couldn't afford the fury to prevail over this so I dialed again and it was the same lady and to whom I explained everything about the incident and where I was.

This time her response was cold indicating she had already communicated with the person who had hung up the phone on me, she said 'you foreigners have no respect for our people. How dare you insult my boss?' Now it was personal and her professionalism was wholly overlooked and the little help she could have endowed there was wasted.

I felt all the possible avenues had been explored without any result. Then my mind wandered off to the school which was not far from the spot, so, I hailed up a tuk-tuk taxi and took the lady to the school. There was no one except for the lady sweeper who was seen walking in her white Willington boots and above I could see the lighted room of my friend who was always the first person to arrive at school.

The tuk-tuk driver helped me carry the lady and the sweeper noticing us hurried up and indicated we put her in one of the kindergarten rooms where each room had small mattresses. Two mattresses were joined in one corner and there she lay. I quickly ran up to my friend's classroom and gave a knock and he came out. After having described the whole event he went back to his computer and pulled out the number of Spanish embassy.

It was too early for bureaucracy so I had to call them over and over again and when it was finally answered by a grumpy voice the line was transferred directly to one of the consulates. The honourable consulate demanded who I was, which was understandable, and then he furthered it by asking why I had picked up a stranger.

Perhaps my fury had been exhausted and now its exhausted form had turned into sarcasm and it, instinctive compassion, honourable consulate,went into the phone and therefore to his honourable ear. By seven more people trickled in and I hung about the room where the lady waiting for some immediate help was and also the honourable arrival of the consulate.

The trickling people were curious, they dropped by, peeped in and with strange expressions in their inconsiderate faces they disappeared to huddle around some corner to talk. The wait came to an end when a Mercedes van rolled in and a meticulously dressed person stepped down accompanied by few well-dressed females and a smart police officer.

This arrival protocol had to be observed and surprisingly the director of the establishment ,whose help I sought but was repeatedly told that she hadn't arrived, now had come out to greet the honourable consulate. Smiling her plastic smile she led the way, but not toward the room where the lady was.

He was led into the best room of the establishment and seated, then I was sent for. As I entered the honourable consulate smelling of fine perfume stood up and shook my hand, at this time the face of the lady director of the establishment froze as though she was freezing on the inside, giving me the impression she was a statue.

Only when the perfume-smelling honourable consulate turned his head to compliment me she forced another plastic and that plastic smile disappeared quickly when I suggested we go to the room to attend the lady. I guessed she had some diplomatic plan to serve tea and get acquainted with the man.

He gave into my suggestion and very soon we helped the lady to the mini-van, where she was seated and her senses seemed to have come alive after having heard Spanish sound. Resting her head against the back of Mercedes seat she was taken away and I was relieved that she was in safe hand and very soon she would be given proper care which I couldn't obtain for her after several attempts.

To be continued.....

Nameirakpam Bobo Meitei

* Nameirakpam Bobo Meitei, a resident of Bangkok, contributes to e-pao.net regularly. The writer can be contacted at bobomeitei(at)hotmail(dot)com
This article was webcasted on October 29 2010.