Busted!

In the short time we had at the mission home, we felt like we'd been hit with a firehouse of information. One of the things they told us that fortunately we remembered is that if we get stopped by a policeman we should ask to see his identification, call the zone leaders (ZLs) to translate for us, and not let him keep any of our documents--it's best if we can just show them to him and get them back.

Last week as we were almost to our front door we passed a group of three men talking. One of them stepped over to us and showed us his police ID. He jabbered away, even though we kept telling him we didn't understand what he was saying, but he said something that sounded like documents so we gave him our ministerial certificates. He studied those carefully while Dave pulled out the phone and dialed the ZLs. The policemen said something and I could tell he was asking if we were calling someone who spoke English to help. I nodded, but he still kept talking away to us in Russian. After I explained the situation to the ZL, he asked to talk to the policeman. They talked for a few minutes and then the policeman hung up, handed us back the phone and kept jabbering away to us. We didn't know what to do--if the ZL didn't fix it, we were in BIG trouble. We kept hoping that meant the ZLs were on their way to meet the policeman in person, but they didn't come and didn't come and didn't come. We were getting more nervous by the minute. Finally Dave figured out he wanted our passports. The policeman took them and started writing down all the information from them, including our visa number and city registration. Then he pulled out his phone and started talking. At one point I heard him say "Holbrooks" (well, the Russian version of it anyway). He talked for a long time. It seemed like an hour but was probably less than 10 minutes. We tried to be rather nonchalant and just visited, checked out our surroundings and stood there. I figured that if we didn't seem upset or worried, he would pick up on the fact we didn't feel like we were doing anything wrong but if we got angry he might decide to haul us to the police station, which we definitely didn't want. After he hung up from his phone call, he finished making some notes, handed back our passports and said до свидания (do svidanya or goodbye).

We went inside and looked out the window. The policeman talked to a guy who had been hassling some of the young Elders last week, and then got in his car and left. A few minutes later the ZL called and asked if we were ok. Then he explained that after talking with the policeman, he called Brat Piotr from the mission office in Novosibirsk who then called the policeman and explained who we are and what we're doing here--he's a native Russian so he can speak to them in Russian without any problem and knows all the Russian laws inside and out. Apparently a neighbor thought we had more than just the two of us living here since he saw the young missionaries coming and going a lot as they came to meetings and helped us get settled and learn our way around. Since we're foreigners we might not know or understand how things work in Russia and he wanted to make sure everyone was registered and that we were obeying the rules. We shouldn't have any more problems. WE HOPE!