Mistaken Identity…

While driving back from the Virunga Mountains yesterday, Emmanuel cleared his throat a few times, and then said,

“I need to ask you a question…”

Expecting another question about the bike or the trip, I leaned back and asked him to go ahead with his question…

“Is it true that you are working for the President’s Secret Police…?”

I was obviously taken aback by this, but we had run out of topics to talk about, so I thought I’d play this one a bit to see where it went…

I looked over at him, raised an eyebrow and said, “Why do you ask…?” He shuffled around in his seat, an embarrassed smile on his face…

“The people at the hotel have seen your number plate NPS, which is standing for National Police Service, and told me to be careful of what I say to you… The President has sent many of his people amongst us because we have elections this year, and he wants to know what the people are saying… Some say he is even using White people, and you look like you are from the Army… The hotel people say they can see it from your eyes… It is why you are traveling alone. And now you go to Burundi, where many Rwandans are hiding…”

Well…this was an interesting development, which I may be able to use…. If not for my advantage, then at least for endless fun….!!! I looked out of the window on my side to hide the grin on my face, and said…

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that question, Emmanuel…” to which he replied,

“I understand, Sir….”

It was the first time that he had called me “Sir”…and I knew then that he had “taken the bait….

The number plate thats causing all the confusion....

I then started putting a few things together, which I had noticed while riding the bike through the streets of Kigali… Whenever I came up to traffic, they immediately pulled to one side to allow me to pass. I have an Orange reflector on my headlight, and ride with my spotlights on all the time… I remembered seeing many official cars like Army jeeps and trucks, ambulances and police motorcycles also rode with their lights on all the time… I firmly believe that I have been associated with an “Official” vehicle… With my dark visor down, and wearing my raincoat, which hide the BMW Jacket, I guess I could pass for a Traffic officer..or something more sinister, given the letters on my number plate…

Back at the hotel, I stopped to speak to Eva the receptionist… After a little bit of chit-chat, I turned to walk away, and turned back to her, looked to my right and left as if to see if anybody was listening, lowered my voice and asked…

“Are there any…uh… “official” messages for me…?”

Eva’s eyebrows shot up her forehead, and for a second she seemed unable to answer… I gave her  a conspiratorial wink, and she stammered an answer while looking down at her desk…

“No Sir, but I will call you the minute I receive anything…”

“Bon…! Merci…!” I said turning away… I heard her suck in a breath, as I had earlier told her I do not speak a word of French… No need to let them know that besides these two words, the only other words I associated with French, were “Carla Bruni…”… From that moment on, the staff did not speak a word of French in front of me…, in fact, they avoided me like the plague… But service in the little restaurant showed a marked improvement that evening…

While I went up to my room to fetch the money I owed Emmanuel, he chatted to Eva in whispers, their heads close together, her eyes widening with whatever it was he was telling her… I was beginning to enjoy this… When I asked for a bucket of water and a cloth to wash the bike, Eva offered to let the staff wash it for me… I gave her a long look and then said…

“No thank you… There are many bits of sensitive equipment on the bike that I do not want people to touch…”

“They say it even has a TV with maps on it…!” she blurted…

“Yes, that is true… I can record everything with that TV…”

“Everything…? With the camera on your helmet…?”

“Yes… Everything… You have seen the camera?“

“No, but the security guard has told us that it is there….”

“Do you want to see it…?”

“No… No… It is fine, thank you…!” She looked away and then back at Emmanuel, who looked down at his feet, and then out of the door next to him… “Can I take your dinner order so it can be ready when you need it…? Will you take another Citrus Soda with your food…?”…

“Yes thank you… I have an urgent report to write about things I saw and heard yesterday and then I will be down for my meal at 8.00 o’clock…”

“It will be ready, Sir…”

Ah yes, service had definitely improved now that it was common knowledge that I was an “official”… I idly wondered if this would be a good time to renegotiate the room rate, but decided against it… Eva had already dropped the price from $50.00 to $40.00,and I did not want to put her on the spot again…

I am a firm believer that people in “Official” positions should not take advantage of their status, you see….!!