3 Dutch Policemen Cornered Me At Lunch
I Still Have Cold Sweats At Night About The 16th Of January
AN ACTUAL CONVERSATION WITH THREE DUTCH OFFICERS SENT DUE TO AN ANONYMOUS TIP FROM THE GHANAIAN EMBASSY IN AN ATTEMPT TO FORCIBLY ADMIT ME INTO A PSYCHIATRIC FACILITY AND CRISIS CENTRE.
I LEFT MY TABLE AT THE DINING SECTION OF THE DYLAN HOTEL TO GRAB MY FAVOURITE BOOK, Where Chefs Eat, FROM THE ‘BARBOU ROOM’ WHEN I SAW THREE UNIFORMED OFFICERS ENTERING THE HOTEL. I WONDERED WHO THEY WERE HERE FOR.. LITTLE DID I KNOW—IT WAS ME.
Officer 1: Excuse me, sir…
[INITIALLY, I IGNORE HIM AS I DON’T IMMEDIATELY REGISTER THE APPROACH IN THE HALLWAY.]
Officer 1: Sir!
Me: Me? [ABRUPTLY STOP MID-STEP.]
Officer 1: Yes, are you Joseph… Awuah-Darko? [IN FULL NEON GEAR.]
Me: Umm… yes?
Officer 2: You are?
Me: Yes, errr… what’s… what’s going on? [TERROR CONSUMES MY VOICE.]
Officer 1: We just want to have a quick little chat. Let’s go into this room. [GESTURING TOWARD A WHITE DOOR.]
Me: Errr… is everything okay?
Officer 1: Let’s just have a chat. This way, please.
Me: Errhm… can I just grab my—
Officer 1: That won’t be necessary. As I said, this way, please.
[ I DID NOT HAVE TIME TO BE EMBARRASSED ABOUT THE ONLOOKERS WITNESSING THE AMBUSHED CONFRONTATION. AT THIS POINT, MY FIGHT-OR-FLIGHT INSTINCTS KICKED IN. I RECALLED THAT MY BOTTEGA BAG WAS STILL UNZIPPED ON THE TABLE WITH MY TEA AND THAT MY ID WAS NOT ON MY PERSON. I STARTED LOOKING FOR EXITS WHEN I CAME TO THE SOBERING CONCLUSION THAT COMPLIANCE WAS THE ONLY WAY FORWARD. I PROCEEDED TO DO WHAT THEY SAID AND ENTERED THE DOOR WITH THE METAL LETTERS ‘BARBOU’ ON IT. ]
Officer 3: Please take a seat, and it’s very important that you relax. Crucial.
Me: Ummm… sure. [MY SHOULDERS PROCEED TO TENSE UP.]
Officer 1: So, Joseph… how are you feeling? [HE ATTEMPTS A PERSONABLE TONE, FAILING TRAGICALLY.]
Me: Oh… I’m okay, I guess. Just came here for afternoon tea and some writing inbetween. [FIDGETING WITH THE UPHOLSTERY OF MY CHAIR.]
Officer 3: It’s a very, very nice place for that, isn’t it?
Officer 1: Have you been feeling depressed recently or like you are a danger to yourself?
Me: Errr… in what way? [THE HAIR ON MY FOREARMS STANDS TO ATTENTION.]
Officer 2: Do you feel like you may want to end your life at any given point? Or plan to harm yourself?
Me: No. Not in this moment, as far as I’m concerned. [I SUDDENLY REALIZE WHAT IS HAPPENING.]
Officer 1: Ah, I see. Well, Joseph, some people are quite worried about you.
Me: Who is?
Officer 3: We are not at liberty to say, but we were sent here by the Ghanaian Embassy. Do you understand why they may have reason for concern regarding your well-being?
Me: So… I was clinically diagnosed with bipolar disorder, and— [MY DIAPHRAGM ACHES.]
Officer 2: Ah, bipolair. I see that.
Officer 1: So again… you are sure you do not feel like you may be a danger to yourself in this moment? We need a clear answer. [THE VEIN ON HIS LEFT TEMPLE PULSATES.]
Me: Yes, I’m quite certain that I am not.
Officer 1: So then, where does this concern from your embassy stem from?
Me: Well, I’ve been quite vocal online about pursuing assisted euthanasia in The Netherlands and exploring non-violent means to end my life.
Officer 1: Online?
Me: Yes… on my Instagram, essentially.
[THE THREE POLICEMEN BEGIN EXCHANGING GLANCES, A MIX OF CONFUSION AND DISCOMFORT.]