Showing posts with label bicycle. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bicycle. Show all posts

Monday, 7 December 2020

A glimpse into Chinese police practices?


In 1992, the Chinese government announced they were allowing greater freedom of speech.  A flurry of articles appeared in the Legal Daily 法制日报 on the subject of Extracting Confession by applying Torture.  This got Amnesty International very excited.  I was asked to go in and translate the articles.

What caught my perverse-humour eye, however, were two articles: 

不要用手铐锁住自行车 / Don't use handcuffs to lock up your bicycle

and 

警车要姓警 / Police car must be surnamed police


It seemed that policemen had been using handcuffs to lock up their bikes, so that when they actually caught someone, the handcuffs were not around for them to use on the person arrested!

The other article (警车要姓警 / Police car must be surnamed police) was about police cars being used for things other than police matters: weddings, lifts to/from the airport or train station for friends and relatives.  Hence, the appeal that police cars must be surnamed "police", i.e., be true to their original purpose.  Hahahahaha.

(1992)



Monday, 23 March 2015

Traffic around the world: Jakarta (Indonesia)


I had been giving private tuition to a group of Indonesian teenagers whose parents had sent them to Singapore for their education.  They kept telling me I must go and visit their country, so during the end-of-year school holidays in December, that was what I did, staying with student Honi Handaya’s family.

    On my second day, Honi took me out to explore Jakarta.

    The driving was hair raising, to put it mildly, with smaller vehicles like motorcycles, bicycles and becak trishaws weaving their suicidally fearless and reckless way in and out of the throng of buses and cars.

    Sitting in one of these becak trishaws, you are only at the level of the wheel of a bus, so it was very frightening to be about a hair’s breadth from these tons of metal thundering past.

    Also, the becak rider is behind the passenger, which means that the passenger doesn’t have the driver between him/her and the vehicle in front to take the impact of any collision.

    After that leg-wobbling experience, I suggested we take the bus instead.

    Honi took me to where a cluster of people were standing by the road.  That was the bus stop.  No post, no board with bus numbers, let alone a board setting out the routes (which we didn't have in Singapore at the time anyway, so I was used to this last element).  Just a bunch of people to mark the spot.  

    I asked Honi, “How do we know which bus is going where?”  She said, “The conductor will announce the stops.”

    Whenever a bus — unmarked on the front — arrived, the knot of people would surge forwards as it approached, looking expectantly and listening intently.

    The conductor would hang out of the door, shouting out the names of all the stops from that point on.

    Those who heard the name of their stop on the list would leap on.

    The rest would step back to wait for the next bus -- when the whole process would repeat itself.

    Hahahahahaha, quite mad, but most entertaining to watch!

(Jakarta, Indonesia / December 1973)


* becak [pronounced beh-tjak]:  from the Hokkien / Fujianese dialect pronunciation of 馬車 / 马车 mǎchē / “horse vehicle”.  

(From googling) Quote A becak (pronounced beh-chak) is a traditional Indonesian three-wheeled pedicab or cycle rickshaw used for public transport. It features a front seat for one or two passengers and is powered by a driver paddling a bicycle from behind, offering a slow, open-air way to navigate urban neighborhoods. Unquote

Tuesday, 19 July 2011

The gomi (Tokyo, Japan)

Back in 1980, a German friend living in Japan at the time would go out walking at night, as was his wont anywhere.  

He came across a fridge at the gomi[1] which he felt was in good working order, so he went back the next day with his bicycle, in the dead of night as there’d be no traffic around, loaded the fridge onto the outer pedal, tilted the bike towards his body, and wheeled it home that way.  

A night patrol policeman happened to come along, and stopped him for questioning, as he simply couldn’t believe that a gaijin[2], supposed to be wealthy or wealthier than the locals, would want to take something a local had thrown out.

Fast forward to 1993 when I went to visit an Englishman teaching English out there.  

He had three bicycles.  I asked him what he wanted three bicycles for, as he couldn’t ride all three at the same time.  He said as he was a peripatetic teacher cycling from school to school, it was useful to have a spare bike or two should one of them develop a puncture, as he could just abandon it at home and ride the spare one, leaving the repairs to be done at the weekend.  They were free of charge, anyway, as he’d got them from the gomi.

He also had a three-piece leather suite and a vacuum cleaner, all from the gomi.  Towards the end of my six-week stay, he said, “The vacuum cleaner is not sucking well.  It’s time for another visit to the gomi.”




[1] Japanese for rubbish — the dump in this case.
[2] Foreigner but more Western foreigner than any other racial group.