Stealing Asia Read Online Free PDF Page A

back right corner of the van
as in my earlier transport. When the minivan got underway, we pulled out of the
station and I saw the helpful stranger standing by the roadside. I offered him
a smile and a wave. He returned the smile, but instead of a wave he formed the
shape of a pistol with his right hand and mimed a gunshot at the back of the
van. His smile no longer seemed quite so friendly and a chill ran down my
spine. I wondered if I had trusted the right man after all.
     

 
    Chapter 3
     
     
    The soldier could
not have been any less than eighteen years of age. Though he could have passed
for younger. Much younger. If I had been in any other place it would have been
easy to dismiss him as just a child with a toy. However, the ten foot high
barbed wire fence complete with gun turrets told me that this was no playground
we were on and the sweat dripping from the soldier’s brow indicated it was
anything but a toy he was pointing at me. The tank dominating the courtyard was
also a major giveaway.
    I took a step
forward. The gun barrel moved up an inch. I took a step backward. This time the
weapon held steady. Seeing this as a positive sign, I attempted to make eye
contact with the boy soldier in order to affirm my benign intentions. Our
glances met, but I was unsure what gesture to make next. This was a completely
alien environment and a nod of the head or a wave of the arms could have
completely different connotations to what I was used to.
    ‘Move,’ the
soldier said.
    He directed his
head towards a line of people that had formed about twenty yards to his right.
His gun, however, remained pointed in my direction.
    The row was
single file, but it moved swiftly. Just beyond the queue there was a small
manned booth where passports were being checked and stamped. I could see no
white people in the line and all of the women wore headscarves. My heart knew
what this meant, but my head was still searching for an alternate explanation.
    ‘There’s been a
mistake,’ I said to the soldier. ‘I am not supposed to be here.’
    His rifle
started to tremble. It was clear that he was even less at ease with the
situation than I.
    ‘Move,’ he repeated,
with a tad more authority in his voice.
    I slowly reached
into my pocket and pulled out my passport as I thought that it may help to
explain the predicament I had found myself in.
    ‘Move,’ ordered
the boy soldier for a third time, before looking around for one of his comrades
to assist him.
    I was given the
impression that “move” was the only word of English he knew. I also started to
get the feeling that I was close to being identified as a possible trouble
maker. There was only so long before my lack of co-operation would be met with
force. Seeing futility in trying to communicate any further, I found myself
swept along with the crowd and slowly shepherded toward the checkpoint. It was
less than five hours since I had entered the country and attempting to leave so
soon would almost certainly raise suspicion. Although I had nothing to hide, I
did not wish to be taken aside for a more thorough security check.
    Looking around
for a friendly or welcoming face, I saw none. With the shadow of a gun barrel still
looming over me, I was now just metres from the checkpoint. The tide of people
was sweeping me relentlessly along with it, but I knew that I had to try and
break free of it if there was to be any chance of salvation. Then as I was
about to give in to panic, my way out presented itself.
    There was a
small tourist police office located just before the first customs booth. I
could only hope that the police would be more helpful than the soldier had
been. Trying not to attract the attention of the armed sentinels, I pushed my
way out of the immigration queue and made my way towards this last outpost of
law and order.
    It was now late
in the afternoon and the sun was fast being devoured by the horizon. I cursed
its failing light as I tried not to contemplate the thought of