Yesterday, Scott and I encountered our first taste of bold-faced unabashed corruption. As the innocent young men we are, it was little shocking, and a lot of fun. It went thus:
We enter the Immigration Office of Cebu, Philippines, to secure our exit clearances (to go to Malaysia). We proceed upstairs, inquire about leaving the country by boat, and are whisked into a private room by a grey man in a grey shirt. He proceeds to pile paperwork on the table, and asks us for our passports and boat registration. Passports we have, registration, we don't. We explain that Philippine law prohibits us from acquiring registration for two reasons: 1. we are foreigners, and 2. the boat has no motor.
He shakes his head, and calls for backup. Enter the fat man.
The grey man explains to the fat man our predicament--no registration, no exit stamp. The fat man leans back in his chair, tilts his head, smiles, and says "You will have to pay. How much are you willing to pay?" We lowball--1,500 pesos--and explain our pitiful financial plight is due to our volunteer lifestyles. The fat man shakes his head and says, "There was a tugboat once--he paid P50,000. This will cost 50,000 pesos. We take great risks in attempting to help people like you".
Touched. We shook our head and begged for help. He called for back up and assured us that help was coming.
In comes the doctor. He nods to the grey man and the fat man and listens to their story. His voice is loud, and he sets a black leather purse on the desk and pulls out a stamper. "50,000" he says, "and we can help you".
We apologize profusely, and beg our exit. We explain that we will attempt to procure the necessary registration document, and thank them graciously, and turn to go. "Wait wait says the fat man--the supervisor is coming to help."
We stand nodding and begin to sit as a man in a white barong sweeps into the crowded little room. During the drama, an old couple, possibly man and wife, have joined to chat with the grey man. We stand up to shake hands with Mr._____, an immigration officer. A good man and good cop, he listens, and then asks why they can't help us for free. It's impossible, of course, and he submits to the reasonable explanations of his office mates. We finally excuse our selves as the four men smile, nod, and encourages us to come back to them, and only them to complete our difficult mission. And bring 50,000 pesos.
Right. The good news is that we can get an official letter rejecting our request for registration from the Marina office. The bad news is the the only people who can stamp us want 50 K or an actual registration letter.
There are pirates among us...
