I was awakened about half-past six next morning by the orderly in the
grey uniform entering the bedroom to announce that my bath would be
ready in five minutes, and that it was against the rules to be late. I
promptly went into the bathroom and found the bath half filled with a
thin, greeny-yellowish fluid which smelt like a strong disinfectant.
The orderly explained that all foreigners were obliged to be
disinfected in this way.
"But," I said, "I was disinfected only yesterday."
"The bath yesterday," he explained, "was to ensure that you brought no
disease into the country."
"And what is this for?" I asked.
"This is to prevent you from contracting any new disease through the
change in climate," he answered.
I remarked that the authorities were very solicitous of the welfare of
foreigners, to which he replied:
"Ah, we must look after ourselves; a sick man is a source of
infection."
I was told to remain in the bath forty-five minutes. I found I had no
choice, for, once in, I had no power to get out.
At the end of the forty-five minutes the orderly came and lifted me
out, turned on a shower bath, and said, "Breakfast in ten minutes."
My own clothes had been returned to me. I dressed quickly, ate my
breakfast, which was the usual light continental early breakfast of
rolls and coffee, and was preparing to leave the Police Office when the
orderly informed me that Inspector of Foreigners Stiff was ready to see
me.
"National Councillor Ming," he began, as soon as I entered his room, "I
find you have with you letters of introduction to several persons in
Meccania." (So my private papers had been closely scrutinised during
the process of disinfection.) "You will, of course, not present these
until you have received permission from the proper authority. In no
case can this be given until a period of three months has elapsed.
Now after completing these forms, in accordance with the Instructions
I handed you yesterday, you will be authorised to begin your tour of
observation in Bridgetown." Here he handed me four forms. "You must
first decide whether you mean to stay a week, or a month, or longer;
for that will naturally determine the programme of your tour of
observation. You cannot in any case leave without giving three clear
days' notice and completing your arrangements as to the place you are
proceeding to."
"Oh," I said in some surprise, "I had no idea that would be necessary.
I thought I would just look round, perhaps for a day or two, then go
on to one of your other important cities and make my way by degrees to
Mecco."
"Then you cannot have read the Instruction Form No. 4, or you would
know that is quite impossible. If you intend to stay a month, please
fill up this blue form."
"I think, perhaps, it would be better to say a week," I replied; "then
if I want to stay longer I suppose I could do so?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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