El Pueblo has it Under Control

I remember complaining about the Madison police one night about two years ago because they took about 12 minutes to come to where two men were following a girl in the street. Anything could have happened within the first five minutes, I thought. I was mad since they are always in a hurry when they want to raid a bar or a house party, but when it comes to actual safety, they dilly dally their way on over to the potential crime scene (the death of Brittany Zimmerman particularly came to mind).

Well today, I would give those same Madison policemen a big standing ovation compared to what I just saw last night in Guatemala.

Antsy to get out of the white-wash, English speaking bars in most of Antigua, I decided to go to a bar close to my house that is out of foreigner-radar. The fact that I went with an English speaker, though counterproductive, will be ignored. (We spoke half in Spanish!)

Three men sat at the bar, and later a seemingly tranquil and harmless guy came in and sat at a table by himself. Emphasis on the word seemingly. He was wasted and his tranquility vanished. I didn't even noticed him stand up, and it seemed out of no where when he and one of the three men began to fight.

The poor bartender, a woman alone working with these drunken men, kicked them all out. They left, swaggering in all directions, and she ran to shut the door. Before we could finish our beer, the same drunk kid was initiating more fights, but with the owner of the bar, who I assume came on the bartender's request.

The bar owner brought his posse to make sure the drunk guy caused no more problems. They were not going to sit idly and watch him damage the bar. Oh no, they were taking control of the situation. A heavy-set man wrestled the kid down to the ground, as a lady in her pajamas hit him continuously over the head with a wooden flute. The kid really took a beating, whether deserved or not you can decide. The bartender took his own hits and kicks until his friend held him back. The heavy man kept him in place with a tight neck lock, and sat on the ground with him waiting for the police to arrive.

Only a few minutes after they called the police, they arrived. Now wait-- let's not give them credit just yet for getting to the crime scene in a mannerly fashion. What the Madison police lack in speediness, the Antigua police lack in any sort of usefulness.

It seems as though the ideal policeman in Antigua is one that could be confused as the Guatemalan Homer Simpson. Maybe add a darker hue, cut an inch off the beer belly, replace the love for donuts with tortillas--oh, but keep an affinity for beer. But most important of all--they must, without a doubt, have the same blank dumbfounded expression Homer makes. (Can anyone say "DOH!").

They stood there, listened to everyone's stories. "He hit everyone, even me!" Exclaimed our tough-cookie bartender. And can you guess what they did? These well-trained policemen who clearly have a big concern for the safety of Guatemalan citizens just stood there, as thick-boned man wrestled with the drunk on the ground. Not a single word, not any movement and no notes to scribble down. Picture Homer Simpson as a policeman, and you will imagine what I saw last night--no exaggeration.

And then, finally, a complete sentence! "You need to file a complaint." Well, I think we all know how much good that would do.

They let the drunk man go and if he hadn't screamed, "I'll come back to kill you tomorrow!" he could have been home free. The policemen walked near him, and recharged their gun. I didn't see much after, but I imagine they gave him a scolding, maybe even a slap on the wrist. Bravo! Job well done! You used the same negative reinforcement we use on a six-year old that said a dirty word.

"So, are they going to do anything?" I asked. The bartender's response: The police do nothing here.

No wonder people take matters into their own hands here, even if only with a big man and a wooden flute.