Police Darkness

Written 6 February 2007

I awake to darkness. Not because it’s dark outside, but because with the external security shutters, windows and internal shutters closed the morning light is entirely prevented from permeating our bedroom.

Gigi showers in preparation for the start of his Tuesday, a Qi Gong class at 9am followed by Tui Na appointments, while I prepare coffee and put away last night’s clean dishes. Returning to the bedroom I strain to budge the old fashioned latch before flinging open the internal shutter doors. The doors are heavy, standing at about 3 metres tall, the white paint flaking at the edges.

Peering through the cloudy glass windows, badly in need of a cleaning, but it’s a job that requires a ladder, a plentiful supply of newspaper and window cleaner; I’m surprised to see that Via Vergini is unusually quiet for 8.30am on a Tuesday morning.

This little side street is ordinarily a hive of activity, with market stalls, a constant line of cars manoeuvring around those that are illegally, if only slightly inconveniently, parked while scooters zip down the one way street the wrong way, or take to the pedestrian area, weaving around shoppers carrying white plastic bags with fresh bread, balls of mozzarella or mandarins with stalks and glossy leaves still attached.

This morning is a different story though. The absence of street stalls, and triple parked vehicles is explained away by the presence of the ‘Polizia Municipale’. The Municipal Police have set themselves up along Via Vergini. From our balcony, I spy eight of their little Fiat cars, navy stripes and blue lights on the roof. The police themselves are standing around in small groups of two or three. Occasionally they flag down motorists with their red and white lollipop signs. They’ve turned what is normally a humming, bubbling market street into a road side vehicle inspection zone.

They seem to target older cars, although I watch with interest as the police stop a red scooter, the rider intently talking on his mobile phone. As he pulls over to the side of the road, he indicates to the two police officers that he’ll be just a moment while he finishes his phone conversation. They wait patiently, slowly pulling out their clipboards, preparing to write him a fine. As he hangs up, I can see from his gesturing that he wants to know why they’ve picked on him. Their unheard response is met with fierce nodding, as he lifts the seat of the scooter and produces “i documenti”.

Anyone riding or driving a vehicle in Italy is required to carry the registration and insurance documents at all times. I understand that this is to primarily establish that the vehicle isn’t stolen, and that it is both registered and insured in accordance with the current legislation. Ironically, many drivers in Naples can’t afford to insure their cars for theft or fire. I guess if your car is only worth €2000 and it costs €1000 to insure it each year you wouldn’t bother either. Logically, I assume that if your car is stolen, and you don’t have insurance, many people simply don’t bother reporting the theft to the police. After all, what’s the point of sitting around in a police station for a day, dealing with the paperwork and their apathy, when you know nothing will come of it, if you don’t need the police report for an insurance claim? Really, what’s the point?

As noon approaches only a couple of police cars linger. The police themselves appear to have disappeared into the bar for another coffee break. A couple of street vendors have set up shop towards the far end of the cobble stoned street, but otherwise it is eerily absent of trading. Two aged and fading vans are parked in front of our building, their owners standing at the rear doors, surveying the progress of the morning’s blitz. They are obviously waiting for the police to move on, so they can get on with the business of the day, setting up their stalls, unloading their goods, and selling the baskets, saucepans, clothes, haberdashery, cleaning products, toys and shoes to the women that are wandering around popping into the regular delicatessen, butchers and bakery in the meantime.

I wonder how much the police raid has cost these illegal street vendors. They would mostly be operating on the black market, evading taxes, failing to hand out receipts in accordance with Italian fiscal law. But the loss of several hours of trading must hurt someone’s pocket somewhere. I wonder how much of the street market is controlled by the Camorra, the local organised crime network. I wonder how many of the motorists fined today will pay their fines. Moreover, I wonder how many of them will simply destroy the fine, lose it, ignore it or call a friend who works for the relevant government department to have the fine waived.