| It Has Been A Rough Year |
I am adding this additional chapter to my introduction, because after I initially wrote the introduction, it was very difficult to come back to it and try to make sense of all that I have experienced through the various stages of my life and the trials that I have endured or overcome. I wish ...
| The Birth of Charles Leonard Wiggins |
The story has already been written for awhile on my blog "From the heart of Praise, Prayer and Perseverance. 0; Here is a link to that posting, Below are the pictures of the blessed event.
http://fromthehea rt-dotwigg.blogsp ot.com/2008/03/an other-2-prayer-re quest-answered.ht ml
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Richard 's Story > Categories > Journal-Day to Day Accounts
| Date Range: 03/03/1999 To 03/03/1999 ||
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A NIGHT OF PRAGUE
Richard Ozanne Journal Entries- 1999
To be robbed at gunpoint in New York is one thing...what is 20 dollars after all? In New York it can buy ones life. The Sensations of greed comes in all shapes and sizes. For some it means Nations, others it is a desperation layered in the cantilever of dreams, ambitions not fulfilled. On the street level it is the short mind in even shorter animal-man suit, readied for a street style mugging.
Now in this story, which is [true to the memory] takes place in Prague Czech Republic in early spring of 1999, in the precinct named "Flora" or Flowers. (Description for Flora District of Prague near Vinohrady)
I had a studio for painting and living in Flora. It was not a gigantic space but ample for the work I was doing, and the budget of a struggling expatriate to live at that time.
In Prague they were much more tenacious when it came to mugging...using a very powerful mix of Russian Tear/Gas and Chemical to mug me (I've experienced Pepper Spray and this was no such issue...felt like Nitric Acid, burning my cornea to blind me/choke me off/Pull me down?...only catch my wallet...and all of my documents!
Wandering around Prague-Blind as a bat all night-face a crimson bloated red from the chemical-corneas scratched and back totally out of alignment from the fight that ensued as the perpetrator pulled a knife....Prague-trying to get "help",Swollen and beaten without any documents. How this worked out...
Was it a closed end conspiracy...some people have asked me…
A Night of Prague
The Timeline still in memory....
I am an artist, and was completing a series of paintings of the people of Prague. I had an exhibition of these paintings under completion. Now some would think 10 works were ample to make a series of works, times 10--but on this occasion, and at this time, I had sketchbook at hand, and the oil series had grown to at least 80 works in oil--(though small works) My eyes had a steady speed about them, having studied classical painting, I was also a good portraitist--not the subject of photographic work, but able to capture a dead likeness if needed---
It was a dark night, when I was returning home to my place in Prague (Flora). I had just met with some artist friends as well as gave a couple of English lessons to private students at the government offices and concluded some business for an exhibition/showing of my work. It was an average day for my life in Prague, a smirk over my face of a little addition, a possibility of a new show making it successful day altogether and the mode of business had drawn into the night till 11pm. I had some bills to pay and this night of all nights I had my papers with me, strapped to my side in a sling like sack.
The streets of Prague are dreary at night. A certain coldness of the mercury lamps creates an uneasy texture on the streets and buildings especially outside the city center.
What we can imagine is a Kafka night in its coldness.
It was a cool night and I was coming home to my apartment in the Flora section of Prague. Since it was rather a small place (to what I was use to) with big tall ceilings, and some plaster walls with large windows I tried to consume most of my time away from it, only to utilize the days out in the field of life...if the perspective was clear...coming home pushing back the large Soviet era furniture so this could become my studio. I had no television or radio to entertain me, so it was comrades who I sat and met with, talked with, had intellectual conversations and sometimes exchange a game of chess, where I would often promptly lose with intellectual forgiveness, not really good at thegame now, but was then
But now I was headed back to that place I called something of a large memory in the details, that place that was an old mansion, and that all consuming part of the floor that was my studio, a safe haven.
But it was this night that terror struck out of the blackness of the subway stop. The grin of fortune only last so long as they say..as the rather happy events of that particular day reared their head quickly to an awful one, being mugged from out of the shadows.
It all started when I turned a corner of a street adjacent to where I lived. it was only about 5 blocks from there...and down a street...usually an easy and uneventful walk, rather lonely as the streets were always vacant...but on this particular night they weren't.
"Dobry Den" a voice came from out of the blackness of the Prague street background. I fumbled in Czech saying "What do you mean? Its nighttime!..Dobra Noc!" And thats when it hit..a very quick struggle for my wallet-fanny pack that was tightly worn around my waist. It was not just one fellow...but two...and they came in very quickly, and the struggle was rapid. He reached for the pack and I tried to get away...His friend out from the darkness tried to hold me down..striking very quickly. And a very forceful push ahead for me..trying to fight not one but two of these muggers back with furiousity. All of a sudden one fellow pulled out some sort of gas and sprayed me right in the face with it. It felt like some kind of acid. (I had been hit with mace after a cloud wisp by from riot years ago in Seoul Korea..and this was nothing of the sort!) It felt like acid. I brought out my keys that were tightly chunked together and the fight grew to something of a life struggle for me to get away. He hit me again with a direct blow of this gas. Whammo! My God! I pulled to the left and then to the right...my assailants friend coming in from the side to try to knock me out with blows to the head which I dodged and kept fighting this other fellow off. Like a cross between West Side Story and something unimaginable...Whammo! It was a losing proposition as my eyesight was going quickly and my adrenaline was kicking in, hitting the assailant as hard as I could to try to get away...using Judo and a brandishing full set of keys in a ball in a full status military attempt at saving my own life, and then I went down. I was fighting two off, one coming in from 45 degrees to the attack and falling away while his friend did the mugging. I was clear, but the face full of aerosol Mace was too much, feet falling from under me into a turtle shell position..back up on the ground! The mugger spilt in a stream the entire aerosol container right into my face while I was in a curled up position, pounding my side and back and then I saw him draw a very large and sharp knife..appearing as a 2 foot flash in my peripheral…
Yeah, these cowards didn't fight fair!
What happened next? I just ripped the bag and threw it to the side--he gave me a couple of blows which literally felt like rubber against my cinder filled eyes, sprayed with this spray--I couldn't see anything when I looked up!
But I got to my feet---Right up, and a sound coming from somewhere "Stand!", it sounded like God, with the voice of my father at command!
I stood. Feeling the liquid water pouring from my eyes I could barely make a thing, only darkness, the kind of darkness hell would reveal in a day down there.
I took my palms and tried to feel my face but it was burning with intensity and I could only see small specks of light, my back bruised, and legs pretty unsteady after the assault.
Needless to say he got my pack, wallette and goods..and all of my documents running away with his friend into the darkness. Gone: My passport, birth certificate, 3 visa cards only one active with a super-secure passcode...my money, and ID’s etc.
I was blind.
I could not see three feet in a painful blur of chemical.
I wandered the night streets in an attempt to get home, but first trying to summon help. I went to this cafe nearby. I stood in the doorway, the place ready for closing and the lady behind the counter shrieked at my tomato red face, burned by the substance as I tried to get her to call the police. (I didnt want to summon an ambulance, I've never been that way-it didn't seem like I was heavily wounded except my eyes were becoming more and more swollen. "No Understand! No Understand she yelled ushering me out. I knew it was I against the night. If I could find my way home by edging along the street I could probably put some water or ice on my eyes as the sensation was really bad--I would say worse than a pepper spray-
I did find my way home and passed a phone along the way attempting to summon some assistance from a friend or two--Cislo #--the numbers were in my pack- Up sh.. creek without passport or documents, and about 2 dollars to my name and thats about it--a phone card with 50Kc on it half expired- no cell phone in those days---
The phone took the card and I called friends--it ticked off money anyway at several units a minute, no good--I tried again--ticked off money for an answering machine, and I was chancing it that one friend would be at home, speaking little English anyway---I called my then girlfriend--Middle of the night--ticking away that crazy tone of the phone phone loud in my ear--Her mother answered.
She spoke one word of English...Hello...I asked for my girlfriend. She said she was sleeping and would call me in the morning and hung up. I called back and surprising even though I said Emergency she did not get it! (Its good to give English lessons to the parents of those you're involved with) I called back a third time, I got two words in and the phone card died.
I made it back to the apartment in the blackness of night even scaring black Prague cats as I walked by.
I was alone in the night, a figure matched by a shadow of himself, and the blue street-lights overhead.
It was a haunting sensation, feeling like the only man, left to himself in a abyss of darkness.
Roughed up and looking like the Golem, I somehow scraped myself to my room and the lights came on.
I kicked the door to open it, maybe trying to summon some help. Not one person came, not one single solitary individual.
The blazing light hurt and I went to the sink and doused my eyes with water---baaaaaad I could only see my tomato red outline in the mirror with the backlight, looking like something terrifying in the senses of a dream, a nightmare.
Something serious was going on and this washing of my eyes was only making it more painful and wasnt gonna work.
I prayed, for help. What came is to walk forth, and try to get to a hospital, remembering one briefly in hindsight..only a green cross.
I had that image on my mind, the fellow who mugged me, and it would be the last day of the Earth that I wouldn't see some kind of justice to him--
I brought out a pen and drew half blinded a sketch of him, my eyes becoming more and more closed with each minute--I couldn't see what I was drawing--I needed help.
I set off into the night grabbing what I may now about 2 AM. I had to get to a hospital or find someone to help me.
The streets were dark and I edged my way down streets against the wall like a blind man finding purpose for a specific direction.
My hands grabbed the next stone ahead, I couldn't even look for anything, because I could only see pin bright matrixes of light,
No one was around and like a compass I set myself in the direction of Prague center in order to try to find that Green Sign which I remembered was a foreign medic. (It was that green cross) What was I going to pay him with? I would cross that bridge later.
It was very early and I found some internet spot that was open. I convinced the young lady I needed help and to please type for me an emergency message to my girlfriend that I would be at the medic office in the center of Prague on Vodichkova Street and Wenceslas Square. The young lady said I looked bad but didn't offer any help but directed me towards the center of Prague.
All night I had been walking and finally I had made it to the Green Cross, up the stairs and to an office where I even scared the receptionist! The doctor came piling out, she asked for payment for services before rendered...a cozy 35 dollars "just to see"--yes but that was the problem!
Well in all cases there is a good samaritan, a passing nurse who grabbed me and took my arm to the Czech Ophthalmologists office upstairs. She spoke english,and the charge was nothing-due to polite European emergency procedures which are free.
They worked on me. Quite severe scratched cornea was the diagnosis of the attack in that spray!
Even the doctors eyebrows went up, not normal! Not Pepper spray!
“Some sprays contain small particles of plastic…” one doctor said, examining my eyes for shards of glass.
Later of course, the rough and tumble ordeal had some twists and turns in my back, legs and arms. I was lucky.
"You must contact the Police" they insisted!
They were not letting me off the hook in this respect as the assistant doctor took me right over to the central office on Wenceslas and filed a report-
Now in New York they laugh! I was mugged in NYC, had a shiner the size of the state of Texas, and they said I was lucky to be alive…
But in Prague they made it almost like a murder investigation.
Kid you not, before the afternoon I had an inspector a crime scene investigator and two police cars up to the place where it happened as they drew and photographed a police line, to the point of taking witnesses.
Questioned and cross questioned I told the story about 25 times and when asked what the fellows look like---ha! Well Ive got a drawing! They couldnt believe me at first, but I produced it, was asked to look at photos etc and taken to the "Owls Nest" a gray sombre building that Im sure used to be the old KGB headquarters.
They took my drawing and they scanned it into an APB, the police investigator making notes and rather impressed by the drawing itself--not artful, but every important detail of my assailant!
Two days later, and after filing report after report, they had him in a line up! Got the Son of a......Behind a mirror I watched as five people were brought in. Number 1---Nope---Number 5 ...No...and then the door opened and the fellow came forth looking as though he had had the roughest night in Hell. 130 pounds, a Russian Boxer type with a rough Damien like face and blue eyes---He looked like he went through a thicket of razor wire, and hit a few poles along the way. My description was a gash on the chin and brow--right there and there--a small earing, left---tufted lower lip---I could have entered the drawing in a photo contest---
He stood shaking at the other side of the mirror glass---
A Drawing Dead Ringer!
The drawing was rescanned to APB, and appeared in State Defense. (Different in Europe) No trial by jury….
Now more formal reports and interrogation by the defense--All evidence was marked "State Secret" until processed---and i got to choose the punishment in this case! Old Napoleonic rules in Prague!
"Book-Em!" What was my choice of punishment? "Throw the book at him!"....and they did! After court, witnesses etc he got 4 years in the Hooskow, rather known as Jail---
He had been active around Prague in a number of really bad activities, beatings, attempted murder of an old lady, lude encroaching acts on young ladies, selling, racketeering etc and no one had fingered nor got a good photo of he the Son of ___except me, with a drawing!
I was shown at one point what they called "The Hall of Death" at the Czech police headquarters, which was not encouraging and downright spooky enough to commit to nightmares, unknowns who were never found---and asked if later I could use my talents in their police force-(quite good if I could have obtained a visa for extended stay--permanent visa)--There is another angle to this which is interesting altogether later, which I found out-
Now after this fellow, this mugger, my Nemesis, got out...there was talk on the street (and Prague was small-in some sections so one heard of many things that happened), he might be looking for me etc etc, but I might be looking for him too!
Artists sometimes have good memories..like instant Polaroids so to speak. Even though an abstract painter, there was a time to show academic talent in a street sketch of a mogul, brute and mugger. I have the drawing today as a reminder of how good a sketch artist is on the scene.
I took some time out and came back to the USA to regroup several months later-
It took me the rest of the summer to recuperate from this crazy thing, and one can imagine living with what means one has in the interim in a foreign land. Of course I had work, and everything came out to be ok---
The fellow had tried to cash my Visa out at a Casino, and some other cards which were dead---bad choice, another card was cancelled-only one live card with a low balance MAX per day (good idea for foreigners-travellers to immediately have a set of cancelled cards with them--they're easily tracked) it demands a trace on the card. He also tried to sell my passport...Bad choice, since I was a foreigner I was also on a Special List. (Good choice to be on the US Embassy Warden List, I believe it was called, if not good for much, it can tell your next of kin) Having a special visa mark one was a sitting duck in trying to use it Another document had him almost immediately arrested in trying to pass it for cash from witnesses. But the big thing was the drawing, one simple drawing! I didnt get my documents or anything back, even though requested, a letter of leniency later if he returned the documents---
Of course Crime dosent pay, ever as they say...