You’re Under Arrest!
I
By Mike Erhartic
t’s July 4 and Phil and I are in Skopje visiting “Naistar”
(the oldest) Michael. There are six Michaels in Peace Corps
Macedonia – I am “Postar” (the older) Michael. We are there
to attend an afternoon picnic organized and sponsored by the
American Embassy and which is open to any American citizen
that happens to be in Macedonia.
We had spent the morning shopping for stuff that we
can’t find in our communities. I purchased a muffin tin and a
Bundt pan so that I can continue my quest to introduce “new”
foods to my Macedonian friends and neighbors. We had taken
many photos of a musical group that was performing in the center
and of other interesting things that caught our attention. We had
taken off on our 20 minute trek back to Michael’s apartment (79
year old Michael wasn’t with us because he didn’t want to miss
his workout at the gym) and had three hours to get ready for
the 4 o’clock picnic. It was a quiet Saturday and there were few
pedestrians or shoppers about at this time on a hot summer day.
th
Who was it? The mayor, a foreign
dignitary, a rock star?
We were walking down the main boulevard and as has
happened on numerous occasions before, noticed ahead the traffic
lights weren’t working at a major intersection and that a police
officer was directing the flow. Nothing we haven’t experienced
before. We got to the intersection, started to cross and stopped on
the middle island, checking for oncoming traffic.
It is then that we saw in the distance, a motorcade
approaching. Great timing, we thought, and got our cameras ready
to capture it when it passed. Who was it? The mayor, a foreign
dignitary, a rock star? We had no idea but got our cameras ready
and took a few pictures in the less than 5 seconds it took for the
motorcade to pass. We put away our cameras wondering who it
had been totally obscured from our view behind the blacked-out
windows on the vehicles but continued on our way.
Our ‘way’ was less than ten steps before we heard
a whistle and the police officer who was directing traffic and
next to whom we were standing when the motorcade passed,
was heading towards us. He motioned for us to stop and asked
us in broken, yet understandable English, of what we were
taking pictures (a rhetorical question perhaps because clearly
he already knew the answer). “The motorcade”, we answered.
He asked us for identification and we gave him our Peace Corp
ID’s at which point he called for backup. Within minutes there
were eight more police officers on the scene: four plains clothes
and four uniformed in four separate squad cars. They asked for
our passports which “Naistar” brought, after our call, from his
nearby apartment. They confiscated our cameras and refused
to speak with our Peace Corps Security Officer, Goce, who we
thought would better understand the situation since he happens
to speak perfect Macedonian since, well, he is a Macedonian.
This left Phil and I standing around, trying to guess what
we did that merited such an overwhelming response from these
law enforcement officials. We ruled out jaywalking. Then the
Paddy Wagon (a politically incorrect term nowadays but I don’t
know what else to call it) arrived and Phil and I were ushered
in. We were told we were “under arrest for photographing the
President’s motorcade” a seemingly serious offense in this
developing nation. The Paddy Wagon appeared to be brand new,
leaving Phil and I to believe that we were the first prisoners to
utilize it, somewhat of an accomplishment in and of itself.
Earlier on, I had called the Peace Corps Duty Officer
and told her of our predicament. She in turn called our Safety
and Security Officer, and he in turn called his contacts at the
American Embassy. Within the hour a Peace Corp staff member
and a representative from the Embassy arrived and sat with us
in the waiting room while the police inspectors examined our
photos and did whatever else it took them two hours to do.
By four o’clock and the picnic starting time, after
signing statements that we didn’t need a lawyer now, that we
wouldn’t need a lawyer later, that we needed no medical care,
and that we had been treated well in addition to a couple of other
innocuous documents, we were given back our cameras and
credentials and were again on our way back to the apartment,
already late for our sole reason for being in Skopje. All this was
accomplished with the Embassy representative translating and
guiding us through the process.
In the end, the police inspectors and the police
commander apologized for what had happened and for the use
of the term “arrested” when it more accurately was “detained”.
His officers spoke very little English and had been following
pre-established procedures. I want to be clear that at no time
during this adventure were Phil nor I concerned about what was
The police commander apologized
for what had happened and for
the use of the term “arrested”
when it more accurately was
“detained”.
happening. We knew the Peace Corps and the Embassy would
manage the situation and they kept in constant contact with
us the whole time. The “arresting” officers were low key and
professional. They didn’t take our phones; they didn’t search our
bags, and they didn’t handcuff us on the trip to the stationhouse.
In the end, they asked us to erase the pictures of the motorcade,
trusting us without supervising us, to do so.
And so, Phil and I, serving together in Macedonia, have
now broken the law, been detained by a squad of police officers
and have ridden togethe r in a paddy wagon - boasts few if any
Peace Corps Volunteers can make. The brotherhood has been
strengthened and a solid reminiscence has been engraved in our
story telling repertoire.
I am unable to support this episode with any photographs,
for aforementioned reasons.
fall 2009 - 11