Bars with
bars
Viv's third
and hopefully final spell*1 the wrong side of the bars
of a jail cell occurred while he was working in the Sultanate of Oman. In spite of
being a Moslem country, while
Viv was working there, between 1989 and 1993, unlike Kuwait, in Oman, alcohol was not illegal and oil company
employees even had a monthly allowance of beer and spirits*2
from the company off-licence.
Apart from the oil company bar, where Viv and friends would go for a beer after
work, there were bars in most of the larger hotels, often with a reasonably
good Filipino band
playing rock and pop covers. However, in Oman the legal limit
for drinking and driving was, and probably still is zero, a fact ignored by all
the ex-patriates and
many of the locals. From the authorities' point of view everything was fine as
long as you didn't get caught!
On the
night in question, he had started at the PDO bar,
then gone to the bar at the Intercon. Hotel.
After that, at about 10pm, he headed to Muscat Rugby Club to see
what was going on. After leaving the club, he got into his trusty
Lada and headed across the
rough loose shale of the
club car park. Before going on, it would be useful to look at the geographical position of the
Rugby Club. It was in a barren, dusty, rocky area near Al Kuwair, situated on a
bend in the road. To the left of the club, when leaving it, there was a big dip*3
in the road where it crossed a Wadi
(dry river bed). Unfortunately, three coincidences combined to turn this trip
home from routine to disaster. Firstly, although used to driving on the right
most of his adult life, Viv briefly returned to the English system and turned
out of the club onto the left-hand side of the road. Nothing serious would have
resulted from this mistake if it hadn't been for the fact that when he checked
for oncoming traffic, a Nissan Pathfinder
hadn't been entering the dip in the road making it impossible to see either the
car or any light from its headlights. After being confronted with a
car coming at speed on the same side of the road, Viv immediately took evasive
action, driving the Lada off the road and onto the scrubland
beside it. The third trick of fate was that the shocked Indian driver decided
to take exactly the same evasive action and ended up ramming*4
the passenger door of Viv's car. Ever since buying his Lada Niva four-wheel
drive, Viv had had to put up with jibes*5,
jokes and snide comments, but these were like water off a duck's back to Viv because
his trusty car virtually never let
him down*6. Whatever can be said about the reliability
of Ladas, as for strength, they are virtually unbeatable.
When he got out of his car he was faced with the following scene: one Nissan
Pathfinder with its front end completely destroyed; one red Lada with a minimal
dent
in the passenger side door! Viv's world seemed to fall down in pieces around
him and the thought of being repatriated
slunk
into his mind like a silent fart in a lift.
The other driver refused to come to any sort of arrangement and demanded that
we wait for the police to arrive. When this happened things moved quickly. Viv
was first taken to Ruwi police
station where he was given a blood
test, then transferred to Qurum Jail.
It had the following layout - one small administrative office with an Omani in
police uniform behind a large wooden desk. Leading from this office was a
corridor with a large barred gate. The bars went from floor to ceiling
and extended for about five metres. This was the entrance to the cell,
one large room with a concrete floor and roof open to the sky, apart from the
3cm metal bars which formed a barrier between those inside and the star-studded
sky*7. The cell was lit by moonlight and Viv could see rows and rows
of prisoners sleeping on blankets on the floor. Off to one side, to
the left of the entrance was a small room with lavatories and showers.
There's
only one advantage in being caught drinking and driving - because you're drunk
you don't really give a damn about anything until you wake
up the next morning! He had just heard the 'clunk'
as the cell door closed behind him, and was taking in the scene, when a voice
came out of the dimness 'Are you English?'. When his eyed
had adjusted to the moonlight Viv made
out*8 a European facing him - Pete. It turned out that he
had been part of a band contracted to play at a hotel near the airport, and had
been arrested for possession of drugs after hashish
had been found in his hotel room. He'd been in jail for a couple of months and
immediately took Viv under his wing. He found blankets and made
space on the floor next to his 'patch' to sleep. The last thing Viv remembers
from that fateful night is lying on his back looking up at the moon shining
through a barred roof surrounded by a sparkling backdrop of pinprick
stars. The two Europeans were singing at the top of their voices 'Tonight
there's gonna be a jailbreak'
by the Irish rock group Thin Lizzy!
All of the
nice feelings generated by drugs or alcohol have corresponding negative effects
- the hangover the day after. On opening his
eyes, it took Viv a while for everything to fit into place, and then came the
realisation of how black his situation was. Breakfast arrived at 6.30am - one
large pot of coffee, one large saucepan of curry and a similar one of rice.
Next came a surprising ritual. At 9am all of the prisoners, mostly
Arabs, Indians, Pakistanis and Philipinos, gathered in a semi-circle in front
of the barred entrance. After a few moments five Oman police officers including
a high-ranking
officer filed*9 into the corridor on the other side
and also stood in a semi-circle. Those prisoners who wished could make pleas
and ask for information from the officers. This event took place in Arabic, so
Viv could only guess what was going in. He came to the conclusion that it was a
safety valve designed to avoid prison revolts.
At 11am Barry Thomas from Viv's British contracting company arrived at the Jail
and Viv was allowed out to talk to him. The first words were something like
'You stupid idiot Viv!'. Then things got more constructive and he explained
that the only way to get Viv out was to involve the PDO security office, run by
a relative of the Sultan. Another two hours later Barry returned and Viv was
authorised to leave the jail. Before leaving he told his guardian angel, Pete,
that he'd be back to visit. Then it was home to shower and change, then taxi to
work - all done under the haze of the 'mother of all hangovers'.
While in front of the computer with a glazed expression later that day the
phone rang. It was the head of PDO security requesting an immediate interview.
Viv borrowed his friend's car and drove to the company head office. The
interview was short. The large man in Arab dress and Omani hat asked Viv to explain exactly what had
happened, then wanted to know if he'd been drinking. Finally, it was stated
that if the situation ever repeated itself there would be no further help from
PDO - they'd throw away the key. Viv answered all the questions truthfully,
including an estimate of what had been drunk the previous night. On reflection,
later that evening, he was under the distinct impression that any attempt to
hide the truth would have resulted in very serious consequences. The head of
security was in possession of all the facts.
For the
next couple of months, Viv still went out to the hotel bars in the evenings,
but NEVER did he get even remotely tipsy.
Firstly drinking fruit juice, then shandy.
However, as the incident receded from memory, things gradually got back to
normal again and before long life was the same as it had been before that stressful
night.
Viv was
destined to return to Qurum jail twice more. Firstly, with Barry, to pick up
his Lada from the jail car park, and secondly, a visit on a Saturday morning to
see Pete and take him some newspapers & magazines as promised.
*1 Noun -
definition 3
*2 Noun -
def. 14
*3 Noun -
def. 12
*4 Verb -
def. 1
*5 Noun
& verb
*6 Phrasal
verb - def. 2b
*7
Thesaurus definition
*8 Phrasal
verb - def. 1
*9 Verb -
intr. (intransitive)