Before it is right to say what happened: this morning around 9:30 I put the bike in the parking lot outside the train station Gerenzano (a mountain bike of very little value) As always chained in irons. I go home for the 17:30 instead I was a little 'more in college to finish the job that I had imposed for today, I managed to 18.30 and are returned to the village in the Varese offering me hospitality Monday through Friday. Entering the park I look around and I can not see the bike in the place where I had left in its place I just sheared clean off the chain.
then and there I did not think anything had been an impulsive person I probably would have started shouting, cursing his arms to the sky, but I was quiet, peaceful but certainly demoralized. Maybe a cool head over an hour or two I called the police, or I would have dropped down the thief would have also done a favor, at least I would have bought back more than a bike worthy of the name.
was not necessary because shortly after I picked up the chain to approach a policeman. Still dazed I struggle to formulate the thought and it takes me a couple of seconds before I said that to happen there at the right time. Then he shows me just outside the carpark pouring on the ground that bike is mine and the next there was a guy who has had no more than 19 years (he just turned 18) with a dark complexion (and then find out come from Morocco) suit to put it tamarro brutal, with the face of one who knows he made a shit. Passed through the avenue and on patrol by a strange coincidence, chance or God, whatever you want, at the same time and same place were the thief, the robbed and the police. Seeing another boy running away that he was blocked out by bike, have dropped by blocking the road and they looked around to see what was happening. After that, load it in the car aggressively, to seize the cutter (big one), do you give the document and find that is unprecedented and must stop. This continues to beg for mercy, I implore pardon, and I do not know what to say, I do not know how to react, as if I said anything that was inappropriate.
A few minutes passed, the bike is left in a safe and come together in a barracks Cislago, not far from Gerenzano, to file the complaint. They spend about twenty minutes, two police officers begin the bureaucratic and after a while 'I hear screams in the Roman and the distinct sound of two slaps. After a while ' I find that those screams came from the captain, it makes me sit in his office, with very professional to me explained the situation, seeing a attimino confused and asked me if I want to proceed with the complaint.
Initially I would not, then the captain tells me the nippers to me that would be the case to proceed and with a little 'sad heart I give him the ok.
It takes another twenty minutes to fill out the complaint, after which bounced back into another office where two policemen formalize the minutes of seizure and release of the cutter of the bike, the charges for the boy (robbery) and a dissolved slightly 'tension I talk to them. They understand that
things are pulling at the long and calm me by saying that I soon let go, and that's when all the cliches that you hear so much about in the newspapers, on television or talking just to give air to the mouth appear suddenly.
front of me I have a man in uniform, a humble servant of the institutions and citizens with bitter irony that complains of red tape which he is forced to undergo as a result of a trivial two-bit pilferage. It would almost want to drop the complaint and I point it to him, as well as I note with irony that the fault in the end it's just me that had I not decided to study an extra hour does not nothing would happen (or might not have happened to me, who knows?). Lets go to matches, but draws a laugh when I seriously warned that doing so would have been wronged by staying silent and that the war was lost from the start. Then I point out that he is right but that a war must be fought with the right tools, what they have available.
I decide not to speak and let them work. It is now nearly eight o'clock when I was taken back to the station, worked in a frantic and have not yet finished within 48 hours because they must carry all other documents and submit to the court. From the tone in which they tell me I understand that their work is exhausting, but do so because unlike those who would not let them resign themselves to the worse because they believe in something. And that's when I stop having compassion for the boy and I feel compassion for them, who faces unmade by fatigue of a day probably began early and will end tonight a little 'later than usual, which are two of four car service, the card for gasoline and degaussing awaiting a replacement battery supplies must be paid out of their pockets, with a radio that is falling apart here and there patched with duct tape, and must patrol a vast territory and difficult to manage. They do what they can, they can not always be where they should be, and now they have been so they were lucky as me because when I greet them and wish them good job with all my heart I read in their eyes the satisfaction of knowing you have done well their part.
the return trip I tell a little 'of their hopes, they ask me if I come from there are Albanians or Moroccans, I reply that in my area there is a large community of Indians that despite everything works and does not create big problems, at least nothing comparable from what I see and hear around here, and one of them blurts out, "but only because those of us captain here?".
tell you a bit 'in the residence permit in the points, but they know it will be a palliation as has been the penalty points, then he would become a point and then it will be like going to the store or the gas station to collect points. They tell me that all this work will serve to give the boy to say so six months in jail, maybe less or maybe no one will come back out and next time will be another six months, and the next six months, until three years and adding them to become then the penalty will be greater, but in the meantime of crimes they have committed a lot '.
The thing that makes more angry is no longer "there was a close one that I stole the bike, now is the last of my thoughts. What makes me angry is to see these people who want to work but are forced to do so with their hands tied, that the Italian bureaucracy is not a buzzword language of the complex political jargon but it is a stark reality, and that a citizen has good reason to lose hope in the State if it forces his most humble servants to work in similar conditions, but must not lose faith in the people who know and want to give something for the good of all. This makes me angry.
It makes me angry to know that they themselves realize that their work is undervalued, because if you know who suffers a theft from the outset that will spend two hours in the barracks rather not make the complaint, let slip wearing the wrong suffered, they will be powerless and the next time it's up to someone else. This makes me angry
makes me angry to know that tomorrow things will not change, that will not be better than today, and we do not know best when it will be. This makes me angry.
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