Judging a gifted horse

Aug 07, 2010 Features / Columnists, Peeping Tom

A VIEW FROM INSIDE OUT

The departure time was nearing. The waiting area leading to our departure gate was already filled up with passengers.
I had been here for sometime but had not spoken a word to the gentleman sitting next to me. Neither had he uttered a word.
I could not tell whether he was from Trinidad or Guyana or to which of these countries he was destined. He could have passed for either.
He just sat there staring at the other passengers some of whom were reading books, while others were sprawled out on the chairs trying to catch a cat nap before the plane departed. Every single arrival met with his scrutiny. He looked not just at the individual but also at their duty free bags no doubt trying to assess what they had purchased. That kept him busy, for in the one hour that he sat next to me, he did not speak a word, not even small talk or grant to me the courtesy of an introduction.
He would eventually speak though.
It was just minutes to boarding time. An airline official and a security official flanked a rough looking man. They walked step in step, the man dressed in a plain T-shirt and a denims, with a running shoes on his feet.
Neither looked nor spoke to each other but the man in the middle was the passenger. He tugged a bulky hand piece. He looked as if he was not traveling voluntarily.
The airline official held an envelope in her hand. The man sat down in a vacant chair and the security official sat opposite. The airline official proceeded to the boarding gate cubicle.
The rough looking arrival looked uncomfortable. He was not dressed like your average passenger and he had bent his head trying to avoid eye contact.
Mr. Silent, sitting next to me, however, was staring at him intently.
Then from the corner of my eye, I saw it. Mr. Silent was smiling at himself and looking in my direction. He touched me on my arm and began to speak quietly.
“That is one of them!” he whispered under his breath.
“One of whom?” I asked. “And just who are you speaking about?”
He motioned to the rough looking fellow and then to the security official sitting opposite? “That one!” he said motioning again to the rough looking fellow. He is a deportee.”
“How do you know that?” I asked
“You didn’t see him being escorted here?” he said. “That is the immigration officer over there and his deportation papers are in that big envelope that the airline official has. The security official has to hand him over to the pilot and when he lands, the pilot will hand over the papers to the police who will take him away.”
“You know all of that just by looking at the man?”
“I see this all the time,” he said. “I hope he is not seated next to me.”
“Presuming that is true what you say,” I said, “Why do you think that he was deported?”
“Probably drugs, robbery or wife beating,” he answered.
“You can know all that by simply looking at the man?” I asked.
He nodded his head. And with that he went back into his quiet shell and never said another world. Even when he rose to board, he did not have the courtesy to say anything. He just stood up and walked to the gate.
As things turned out, the suspect was seated right next to me.
He was quiet too. He did not speak at all. But as morning neared and the flight and landing approached we struck up a conversation.
It turned out he was not a deportee at all. In fact, the only reason why he was in the company of the airline and security official, was because he was traveling on a pass and was on standby and thus the last to be checked in.

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