Via Nishi Odori: A gaijin driver's tale

by Jing Santos

THE VIEW WAS PERFECT FOR A joyful drive. The sun was about to set. The day was about to end. Against the clear bluish background, a few clouds formed in the horizon. The rays of the sun cast a glimmering shade of orange and red. From the drivers seat, it was beautiful scenery to behold while driving towards home. The serenity of the view plus the soulful song of my favorite singer from my CD made a calming effect to my frayed soul.

I was blissfully driving when my reverie was interrupted by the sound of a deafening wail of the siren followed by some Japanese phrase which, to my Japanese-handicapped mind, meant nothing to me. I drove on and even hummed the tune I was listening to. I was oblivious to the sound because I was aware that I was not over speeding. I was unmindful of the situation when lo and behold, when I looked at my rear-view mirror, the police car was following me. Yes, me! But in heavens name, what was that suppose to mean? As far as my mind can trace the seconds that passed, I did not, for the life of me, commit any offense. Why the wailing of the siren? I haven’t even driven over a cat.

Since the police car was tailing me closely, I decided to pull over. I rolled down the glass window halfway and asked the man in uniform “Why?” The old man met my eyes with a blank stare. I gathered my wits and spoke with my limited Japanese “Konban wa. Doshite?” He answered with a barrage of Japanese which I cannot understand. His face was very stern and his physical features reminded me of a samurai warrior I often see on the TV. It was getting dark and I was the only adult in the car plus my two kids at the backseat. Fear was beginning to creep all over me. My mind automatically switched to scenes we have in our country where policemen are a source of not so pleasant experiences.

My mind churned out a lot of confusing questions which only compounded a very frightening scene. I automatically groped for my international license which was tucked in the drawer. He took it and made a cursory glance and said that he wanted to have my passport. Passport? Why? Am I traveling by plane? Am I getting out of the country? I thought. “Passport wa uchi de ….” I replied. I can not recall if I said agemas, aimas or aremas. All I can remember was it ended with mas. He then asked me for my alien card. Obediently, I searched for my big wallet and there hidden among the various ID’s was my alien card. I heaved a sigh of relief. It will soon be over. I consoled myself. Once he knows that I legally entered Japan and that I am properly documented, I will be whistling on my way home. I was mistaken.

He went back to the police car with my driver’s license and alien card and spoke in Japanese over the megaphone. I remained seated in the car because I cannot understand what he was saying. The barrage of noise continued coupled with the flashing of lights. I was becoming conscious because I noticed that some drivers were looking at me. After a few more seconds, another policeman appeared on my window. I told him that I do not understand Japanese. I mumbled with my already diminishing supply of nihongo vocabulary. I did not care if my grammar was correct. All I can think was that I can somehow communicate a phrase which will make sense to him. “Watashi wa nihonggo osukohosi.” He gestured me to follow in the police car. I replied “Chotto” while I grabbed my cellphone and reached for my husband’s cell number. I told him that I was stopped by the police and that they wanted me inside the police car. I was hesitant to join them because my kids will be left in our car. He gestured that I should follow him. With great hesitation I went near the police car. I just stood there thinking that they just want me nearby while they are microscopically examining my documents.

Then the young police officer motioned me to get inside the car. Panic began to take over me. Various images formed in my mind. I was so afraid that time. I never felt so helpless in my life. Where are they going to bring me? Will I still be alive? Will I be spending Christmas in prison? Will my kids be motherless orphans? These are some thoughts that flooded my already nervous heart. I can see my two kids from afar while they peered from the rear window. I argued to the police officer that I will not get inside because my kids are left behind. Every time I took a step towards my car the young police officer blocked my way and motioned me to the car. I kept on pointing to him that my kids are left by themselves. He did not listen to me. He insisted that I get inside the car. Resigned, I sat at the back seat with my feet outside. I did not want to be totally inside that car. He pointed to my feet and told me that he is going to close the door.

My heart thumped very fast. I began to take deep long breaths just to take hold of myself. The old officer spoke, which seemed like gibberish sounds, because my heart and head were already out of sync. He spoke at length, which I countered in English. I kept on telling him that I was a teacher way back home, that my husband is a researcher and that I have a visa. While the officer was busy talking to me, I hastily scrolled my cell phone and dialed a friend. Thankfully she was in her house, which is unusual because she is usually at her office during such time. I hastily explained to her the situation. I then placed the phone to the officer’s ear. After what seemed forever, the police officer handed the phone back to me. I do not know what transpired because all I heard was the word “Go” and then he handed back to me my drivers license and alien card. No receipts were written or any record of wrong driving. I muttered a hasty “Arigato gozaimasu” and ran towards my car.

I sat there shivering. I stayed on the side of the highway for a while. Maybe I was unfortunate to be part of their random check-up, I told myself. I waited for my breathing to become normal and then I mustered the courage to drive back home. When I reached home, I let the kids out and told my husband that I wanted to be alone in the car. I then allowed myself to a good cry. *

Back to top

We welcome our readers to contribute their articles to Philippines Today Online. If you would like to submit your article for posting at this section, please use our Submission Form.