The first thing I saw was the crowd surging forward towards me, everyone sprinting in a panic away from Sol. Was there an errant car careering down the pedestrian street? Or, god forbid, a bomb? (Unfortunately it’s a possibility in the back of many people’s minds as local elections approach in this country with an active local terrorist organisation.)

Then I realised that it wasn’t the whole crowd that was fleeing for its life, just young black men carrying white sacks. They’d had pirated DVDs, imitation designer handbags, belts, wallets and sunglasses spread out for sale on a white sheet, had yoinked up the corners to make a sack and were running with their wares as fast as they could at the first sign of the authorities.

As the men thundered past me, I looked around for the patrol car, but there was none to be seen. Instead, two undercover cops were engaged in a scuffle with a black guy. The officers had the immigrant up against a wall and were doing their best to stop him escaping and to get him into handcuffs. And, showing the same desperation as his friends who’d fled, he was putting up a very determined resistance.

The three fought it out for a good couple of minutes, and more than once it looked like the arrestee was on the point of escape. Madrileños out shopping on this beautiful Saturday morning crowded around in their dozens. A few older citizens shouted criticisms about the amount of force the police were using, to which another retorted that they were just trying to arrest the guy and that he’s just making it worse for himself by struggling. Yeah, but it’s not like he’s hurt anyone, shouted another.

The game was up when two uniformed officers arrived. Shortly after the guy was bundled into the back of a police car and driven away.

The man arrested was almost certainly an illegal immigrant from West Africa, one of the thousands who risk their lives each year, piling into an old fishing boat in Senegal and heading for the Canary Islands. They flock to Spain in the hope of escaping interminable poverty at home, but their illegal status forces them to work the black market, risking deportation by standing on the street selling pirated goods.

I find the situation unbearably sad. We live such privileged lives in the first world, and it’s easy to forget just how lucky we really are. It’s events like this one that show us the price that some people have to pay just to live amongst us in our rich, first-world cities.

Other posts by Katie Llanos-Small