The two boys did nothing. One was
drunk and hassled Vince for a cigarette, and his friend just stood
there and watched. Nothing happened.
The next day we were at the police
station with both of them. They were a few inches shorter and a few
years younger than us. They were forced into a room with Vince so
that he could watch them get smacked around by the police. Later the
boys' families arrived and they were beaten by their fathers. I did
not see it happen, but I could hear crying and yelling and hitting.
The families told us that they were deeply sorry for their sons'
actions. The Police told us we were welcome in Morocco and that they
would make sure we had a safe stay. One family told their boy to
apologize and in between sobs he cried out “please forgive me.”
I tried to shake his hand and say that I forgave him but he was
cuffed to the chair. He kissed me on each cheek and I felt his salty
tears.
I expected to file a simple police
report, but we remained at the Police Station for three miserable
hours. Vince and I were horrified by the boys' treatment, but we
knew better than to interfere. The entire situation was beyond our
control.
“This is awful. We should have never
come to the Police,” Vince told our Peace Corps supervisor.
“There was physical contact when he
approached you for the cigarette. You were physically harassed.
Our procedure is to file a police report,” she replied.
“Yea, file a police report. Not
this! If only my host brother had not mentioned the incident to my
host Mom. Then the incident would have been forgotten. I would not
have called the Peace Corps Safety and Security Office. Then, none
of this would be happening.”
Vince's host brother stood nearby and
understood enough English to solicit a response. Using a mixture of
Arabic, English, and French, he explained, “These are bad kids.
They have knives and they steal things and sell hashish. This time,
no problem, because you were not alone. But next time maybe they
steal your wallet or phone. And they are dangerous for the girl
volunteers too. Trust me, they are bad. They must be punished.”
Vince was not reassured, “I feel like
they are going to want revenge for going to the police. The guy that
asked for the cigarette keeps glaring at me. He hates me. His
friends are going to hate me. This is really bad. I don't want to
make enemies in this town. I mean, nothing happened last night.”
“No! If you do nothing, every time
they see you they ask for more or touch you more or try to steal.
But we tell the police, and now they are scared. Listen, they are
crying. If they come near you again they will be in a lot of trouble.
They are scared! Now you are safe. And all the people in the town
are safe. They are afraid to do bad things now. This is very good
for our town.”
Does it make any sense to deliver
justice before the crime is even committed? In America, the
punishment comes after the crime, not before. In Morocco, apparently
the police can smack the shit of some poor teenagers for annoying a
couple Americans. I believe what happened will help keep me safe in
my town. I don't believe that such a justice system provides peace of
mind for its citizens.
“Will the two kids go home tonight?
Or do they go to jail?” I wondered.
Again, Vince's brother had a response,
“They go home. They have wealthy families and I saw them give
money to the police.”
