I will confess I seldom have reason to go into police stations. This might be a fortunate set of affairs, or it might be robbing me of some rich culture in my life.
Sunday morning I needed to go down and report my “stolen car keys.” It appeared that if someone walked up to my car and went bleep-bleep-bleep and drove off with my car, insurance would not be so keen on having any further discussion with me unless they knew beforehand that I was no longer in possession of said car keys.
Kennith’s mom played taxi and first we went and checked my car was still where we left it.
It was – happy moment.
We then spent two hours combing the area I had been “just in case” I might have lost it. No luck with “hide and seek” so off we went to the police station to open a docket and get a case number.
My first impression was that internal decor really could use some sprucing up.
I also like the guy in the corner who was checking his gun.
Then my eye rested on the officer taking statements in a full bullet-proof protection vest. That made my mildly nervous that this might not be the safest place in town.
I finally got my turn and explained my situation. Officer George was very helpful, a bit perplexed, and went to ask advise from a detective.
She then returned with a rather large wad of paper that we proceeded to fill in and sign.
Whilst this was going on – there were various characters entering and leaving the police station.
The charge office door was directly behind me – which always makes me nervous as I cannot see people entering. They tended to fall in to the police station, rather than open the door and enter through it.
At one point this guy comes in and he is in a lather. Basically his story is that he has been threatened, and some guys who live near his house have threatened him with death and a good bludgeoning. He is afraid and needs help.
The police officers ask him to take a seat and calm down and they will be with him shortly.
Let’s call him Jan for ease of future reference.
He sits down, and then keeps standing up every 3 – 5 minutes having a total rant.
A lot of it is in Afrikaans and he is using a lot of slang, so I am getting that he is agitated and he has a gripe. Jan keeps clutching his side, and I am convinced at this point he has an Uzzi in there and is going to mow us all down, or he has been stabbed and no one is attending to him.
I am feeling quite concerned for Jan. I am feeling quite concerned for my safety, and envious of the police man with the bullet-proof vest now.
The police officers keep telling him – in a real calm voice and calling him Sir/Meneer to “please sit down, calm downa bit, and we will be with you shortly – just sit down, rest and catch your breath”
They continue with my statement – and I keep glancing at Jan, thinking that I feel sorry for him, as he is clearly in distress, but the officers seem to be acting like it is all business-as-usual.
Close to the end of my little “docket opening” the charge office bursts open, and there is this bedraggled women carrying about 12 really heavy shoprite bags. Accompanied by another man with about 3 shoprite bags.
She starts screaming – and not using good Afrikaans – at Jan – but going off like, well what ever it is that goes off in the middle of Kuilsriver if you are missing most of your top teeth, and mix your languages with ease.
Police officers do look up now. One saunters out the back and ask who are you “screaming lady in the very bright pink hoody?”
Let’s call her Mary.
Mary it seems is Jan’s wife. Jan is very hungover and well a bit “gerook” as she explains. The reason he is at the police station is because he is too lazy to walk back to their house and hopes to organise a “lift” with the policeman, by making up this story of being “stalked to be murdered.”
The man standing next to Mary is Jan’s brother and he confirms that yes Mary is Jan’s lawfully wedded wife (he actually used that exact phrase) and Jan is gerook, and he has left them to carry all the shopping by themselves as he is lazy.
Jan’s brother used several other colourful references which were lost on me.
Jan had another little episode, but another severe look from Mary, had him decide to get his arse off the white plastic chair and rethink this particular plan.
Jan left with his wife and his brother – I noticed still not carrying any of the shopping bags.
My guess is Mary is going to smack him over the head as soon as they are out of the charge office with the day old French Loaf she had in her packet.
My statement was done. I was told they would sms me the case number and I could go.
No matter how bad my day was, my guess is Jan was going to be having a far worse one.