Give Peace A Chance — Vientiane, Laos | March 2008
“The Gong Perdamaian Dunia (World Peace Gong) ”
A hand goes up, a whistle is blown and a traffic policeman orders me to stop. It’s late at night on a Friday and I’ve got to teach tomorrow morning. I don’t want to stop. My house is just a hundred metres down the road.
“The safety, cannot go,” the policeman says in broken English.
What!? This is happening way too often. My house happens to be right next to the Indonesian embassy and opposite the Thai embassy here in Vientiane. Every time there’s a function at either embassy —and there are many— the road is blocked because of security reasons and all traffic is diverted. The problem is that none of those diversions actually allow me to reach my home.
“But my house is just over there,” I say to the policeman and point toward the embassies.
“No no, safety the ceremony,” he says and then, gesturing towards another road, “You go around.”
“What ceremony?” I ask.
“The gong the peace, cadeau Indonesia,” he says, now pointing at a covered up construction behind me.
Gong the peace? Ah, he must be meaning the peace gong, I read something about that. Laos is to receive a replica of a 450-year-old gong found in Mount Moria in Central Java (locally known as “Peace”), awarded by the World Peace Committee of Indonesia. With the official presentation tomorrow morning, there’s probably a VIP party at my neighbour’s tonight. Although I know it’s futile, I follow the policeman’s directions.
The Peace Gong in Vientiane, Laos
When I get to the next turn towards my house, there’s another roadblock. Another hand goes up, another whistle is blown and another traffic policeman orders me to stop. “The safety, cannot go, you go around,” he says —Where do they learn these phrases?
I turn back into the direction I came from. It’s 2am and I’m not getting any closer to home. When I get back to the first roadblock I’m stopped again. “Ban koi gai sathantoot Indonaysia,” My home is near the Indonesian embassy, I say, making an effort to speak Lao this time and gesturing once again in the direction of the embassy.
“Baw dai!” No! the policeman says sternly. I’ve had enough, I want to go to bed. I turn my bike towards the blocked road and rev the engine.
Schklikt klink, the cocking of guns sound. Three grim looking men, wearing the dark blue uniforms of the special security corps are pointing their Kalashnikov rifles at me.
“Baw dai! Awm!” No! Go around! one of them shouts shaking his rifle. There probably aren’t any bullets in the banana-shaped magazines but the situation has become too explosive to test their patience.
“Ao thawdai!?” How much do you want!? I ask seriously annoyed. Since I moved here in December 2002, I’ve successfully managed to avoid paying any bribes, but this situation is getting too ridiculous.
“Baw dai! Awm!” all three security officers now shout, still pointing their guns at me. Just my luck, I’ve finally given up my resistance to the Lao bribing culture and now they won’t play the game. I switch off my bike’s engine and calmly put up my hands.
“Kowthot,” I’m Sorry, I say and slowly, emphasising each syllable, continue, “Ban koi gai sathantoot Indonaysia,”
“Gai sathantoot?” one of the security officers asks rhetorically. He lowers his rifle, looking puzzled. The other two now also lower their rifles and the three of them have a quiet discussion. “You take he go with you,” one of them finally says, pointing at one of his colleagues. Fine.
With an armed special security officer on the back of my bike, I’m allowed through the roadblock and drive the hundred metres to my house. When we get there, I show the officer that I have got the key to open the door. He gestures it’s okay for me to go inside and then gives me a sheepish look.
“Yak kao,” he mumbles. I may not have paid any bribes in this country so far, but I know that I’m hungry doesn’t actually mean he’s hungry. I’m so tired, I just want him to go away. Reluctantly I offer him a 20,000 kip note which he happily accepts.
Lao 20,000 kip note (± $2,- in 2008)
As I’m finally lying in bed it dawns on me: I’ve paid my first (albeit tiny) bribe even though it wasn’t really necessary anymore. It’s all so confusing. I used to be a person of strong principles, but I’ve gradually been dropping them, one after the other, since I moved to this country. ‘Funny’ how one changes over time.
Plastic Ono Band – Give Peace A Chance [Single]. Montreal, Canada: Apple Records. (1969)
This autobiographical sketch comes from my bundle In the Moment: A Disjointed Audiobiography which is available at Amazon.com. (USD 9.50 for a paperback or USD 4.50 for the Kindle version)
