Busted!

 It was early in the evening and I was just cleaning up after dinner when five policemen stormed into my driveway. 

Well, okay, they didn't storm. I exaggerate. They congregated. One stepped a bit forward from the others toward the front door and called out "Hello?" several times. 

Examining these men from the window, I could not tell what sort of policemen they were. Surely not just regular run-of-the-mill policemen, for they were wearing what might be described as combat fatigues--boots, red bands on the arms of their uniforms, berets.  

My goodness, what have I done?, I wondered. I was pretty sure I hadn't murdered anyone lately. Certainly something like that would stand out in my memory. But wait ... what memory? What did I do yesterday, as a matter of fact? Ah, there's the rub, for I myself have little idea. 

"Hello," I answer at last, stepping out the door. "Whatchyaall want?"

"Eh?"

The five policemen lean forward as one. 

"Ada apa?"

They look at each other. Do they know what they want? 

"Lapor," says the heavyset one at the fore. 

"Lapar? Hungry? Am I hungry?"

Is that what this is about? Have they brought dessert? 

"Bukan, Pak. No. Lapor." 

"Oh! Lapor. Report, ya kan?"

"Yahhhh!" 

Thumbs up. 

"Lapor mana? What report?"

They look at one another. 

"Lapor," they explain together. 

"Hmmm. Lapor ya? How about KITAS? Do you wanna see my KITAS?" (my foreign resident permit). 

"Yes, good, very good," the heavyset officer exclaims, smiling widely with relief. "KITAS, good!" 

Yeah, so I bring out my KITAS permit from its place in a bedroom cupboard and they pass it around between them, studying it by turns. 

"Ah! Ini dia! Ini alamatnya. Bagus Pak. All good."

They are happy that the permit shows my address. 

I am happy not to have been caught in any heinous crime. 

They shuffle away together and then roar off on their five motorbikes. 

And I call a neighbor to ask if she knows what the hell this was all about. 

Turns out they are not the military police or a SWAT team or a bomb squad. They are Balinese local police and they are checking to see if I have an official permit to live in the house I am living in. A lapor, in other words. 

One thing I still don't understand though .... 

Why does it take five of them to do this?