India, Muslims & Cab Drivers
The SAME hip pack on the SAME trip that I describe under Rangers, Burglars and Masai Mara was the focus of an 8 hour odyssey in Bombay, India. This story is even more important and appropriate in light of the terrorist attacks in NY.
I had spent several weeks in India before going to Kenya on the same trip (airline discounts and mileage awards enabled me to combine India and Kenya into one trip for about $500 from the US in 1992...). As I was waiting in line at the Bombay airport to fly to Delhi, I re-counted my bags and realized my carryon hip pack had been left inside the cab I just got out of! What do you do in this case? You have no idea what cab it is (they ALL look alike there), no license plate, no driver name, etc.
I got out of line, waited in another line for an hour to cancel my flight (paying almost enough in penalties to buy another ticket). I also distinctly remember missing a great picture of a man with 2 thumbs (you especially remember the pictures you missed). Birth defects are everywhere in India. The time was 6 PM. I stored my luggage in a secure area, went outside and stopped to think.
Another cab driver approached me and asked if I needed a ride. I said no, but he continued to ask what he could help with. He seemed different from other drivers, and I needed to start somewhere. So I told him what happened. He said “No worry, I will help you” (I didn’t care that he would want a nice tip–if he found the bag, I would be amazed).
For the next 6 hours we looked. He started with the cab registration station at the exit to the airport. All I could tell him was that the driver was probably mid-late 20s with a beard. My cab friend asked for some money to “give” the police to facilitate their cooperation. They then looked up a few possible addresses and we went with them to a few cab drivers’ homes. No luck. The addresses usually proved fruitless and outdated.
After spending a few hours with the police, they gave up, and my cab friend started following his own intuitions. At 1 AM, we went to a corner where there were about 25 cabs resting for the night, with a watchman sleeping in one of the them. He and my friend talked in their language for a minute, and he pointed to a residential complex of about 200 apartments. My friend drove there and went in.
He came out with a man (not my driver) who was carrying my bag. I jumped out of the car and asked how? My cab friend said that the only fact I told him–that the driver had a beard–was enough to narrow it down. Most Indians do not have beards, unless they are Muslim. This driver was Muslim, and, according to my cab friend, “Muslims are, contrary to American propoganda, honest. They will not steal.” This was true. All my camera gear and the 25 rolls of exposed film on India I had shot, was there. Untouched.
I was grateful to both, and paid the biggest tip in my life (more than what it would cost me to Fedex more film to India) this cab driver, whom I had to trust unconditionally, despite rumors to the contrary before I left for this trip.
Moral: Religion is not the measure of a person’s merit. How he treats you, and others, and the world, is a truer measure. All cultures and religions have their strong points and their fanatics, and only the ignorant or lazy lump them all together. Take time to see through the faces and the world will open up a bit. Or maybe a lot, in this case.