THE ARREST
There must have been some kind of mistake, for Jovan K. was arrested on the 25th of March for a crime he did not commit. Jovan K. woke up at six-thirty that morning, just like he did for every weekday. He brushed his teeth, relieved himself, got dressed and kissed his wife goodbye and went to the hawker centre downstairs to buy his usual breakfast of vegetarian bee hoon. He bid the bus driver, a young Chinese man good morning, grabbed an empty seat and napped on his hour-long commute to Tuas. Yet now he found himself in a holding cell with four scary-looking police officers.
K. didn’t immediately recognise them as police officers. At first, he thought them fresh faces from management, judging from their long-sleeved cotton shirts, slacks and lanyards that dangled around their necks. But when he tried to clock in using his employee card, one of the officials glanced at him and signalled with his eyes to the others as if to say “It’s him.”
“Excuse me,” K. began to say, but one of the plainclothes officers cleared his throat loudly and gave him a sharp glance.
“You can ask questions later,” the policeman said.
What in the world was going on? Was he being arrested? He couldn’t think of any crimes he’d committed, besides jaywalking the night before or littering cigarettes. Maybe it was because he drank alcohol in public with Seng? But the police didn’t enforce that rule. Not that he knew of, anyway. Perhaps the GM, L, had heard him voicing off his displeasure about the management to his fellow shipyard workers during their lunch break. Beads of sweat started to accumulate at his brow. L was not known to be lenient with his subordinates, and Bee Hwa was six months into her pregnancy. If anything happened…
The man put his head in his hands.
*
THE TRIAL
Three hours later, L entered the room. K. barely noticed him entering. He had been holding his urine for the entire time because the officers would not let him go to the bathroom. Bastards, he thought as he watched them file in and out of the room freely. However, L didn’t speak to him. He whispered some words to one of the officers and left as quickly as he came. Then one of the policemen grabbed his arm, said “Let’s go”, and whisked him away in a car.
They entered the carpark of a gigantic blue-and-white building and left him seated in a white room with white walls, a table and two chairs. There was a long black glass along the wall at his left. He knew this was a one-way glass from watching police serials on local television. This must be a police station, then. But why was he here? The attitude of the police officer and the silent treatment all led K. to believe that he had committed some sort of massive crime. Did Bee Hwa know what was happening? Did anyone know that he was being held here besides L.? K. felt his mind twist into knots. How was this even legal? He hadn’t been proven guilty, yet they’d held him for over six hours against his will. Perhaps it wasn’t even an issue of whether he was guilty at all. Yes, he’d offended L. That must have been it. He crossed the lines with the powers that were and now he was going to pay the price. He should never have mouthed off to Amirul about L. Now he was going to lose his job, his family and his life.
A Chinese man in a suit entered the room. He sat in the chair opposite K. K. thought that he had a disturbingly wide smile. He took out a sheaf of papers from a folder.
“Good afternoon, Mr Wang. I hope that you’ve been well.”
“Wang? I’m not Wang. My name is Jovan Kwok Cheng Leong. I’m a shipyard worker at Keppel.”
The man frowned.
“Let’s not play games, Mr Wang. We both know who you really are.”
K. was in a state of panic now. What was this strange state of affairs?
“I’m not Wang,” he yelled. “I’m not Wang and I want a lawyer right now!”
The man frowned again.
“I was hoping you’d be more cooperative, Mr Wang.”
He reached into his folder and pulled out a monochrome photograph. It was a man who looked exactly like K. The man was crouching behind a crate of goods. He was placing something on them, but it was too blurry for K. to make out. He looked exactly like K. Was this man him? K. felt the room start to spin.
“Sir, this isn’t me. I swear it’s not me,” he whispered.
The man leaned forward.
“Then where were you at 3pm on the 24th of March?”
K.’s shoulders slumped. He had indeed been in the shipyard, working as usual. The reality soon dawned on him that he would be locked up forever, that there was no way of proving his innocence.
*
It was a tiny room. He slept on a straw mat and rested his head on a pillow he made by stuffing a t-shirt with cloths. In the left corner, a black, dome-shaped surveillance camera watched him relentlessly. How long had it been? Days had blurred into months. The men in suits came to see him often, but he never confessed. Each time, they laughed and told him that he would stay locked up forever. He thought of Bee Hwa and his aging mother and wondered if their child was born yet. He imagined the smells of the countryside he grew up in. He was filled with rage and indignation, yet he was powerless. The State, one of the suits told him, had no pity for terrorists. He would stay here for as long as it took for him to confess his motives. But what about Bee Hwa? Did she think he was a terrorist too?
Published 12 March 2021
The preceding text was for a creative assignment applying a European text to a local context.