By Brett McNeil
My police registration card arrived in the mail today. It’s signed by the Inspector General of the National Police in Jakarta and attests to the fact that I’ve been sufficiently vetted by the proper authorities and adjudged sound enough of mind and circumstance to warrant the card. Which is nice.
I’m not exactly sure why I have the card or what it took to get one but the folks running the Fulbright program here in Indonesia told us that a police registration card is difficult to come by. In a country still very much defined by those who have access or an inkling of access to power and those who most definitely do not, possessing a difficult thing suggests a little social or political heft. It’s exclusive, or exclusive-ish, and maybe the cops don’t give you the hassle you might otherwise get as a foreigner working in a country where the official unemployment rate – about 8 percent – is a patently ginned-up fiction. Maybe you get to go without greasing anyone’s palm, or maybe the asking price is a tad more cut-rate.
Posted on September 28, 2010