January 15th, 2018
I was robbed on January 3rd and it’s been pretty rough. I have a 12th
grader living with me who has been guarding my house while I was gone
and who will be helping out with chores moving forward the next year. At
4 AM, he woke me up and called me out into the front room of our house.
It was a disaster and about half of the main room was missing – the
half remaining were items that did not fit through a window sill. The
grate in the window sill had been pried out of the wooden frame.
The
moringa seeds that were being stored in a 25kg sack of rice were dumped
in the middle of the floor. Most of my tech was out in the front room
charging along with my roommate’s tech. It’s all gone. Both computers,
both phones, 2 of my external hard drives (I lost roughly 1500 movies),
25kg of rice (it was being stored in buckets to prevent bugs from
entering), 5kg of beans, a box of tomato paste, 8 packages of pasta, the
surge protector for the fridge, and my 5000 mets
in cash I left under my computer (roughly 88 USD) – and then the
ridiculous items! 1 of my 2 backup water filters had been stolen (I
guarantee they have no idea how to use it let alone would they want to),
the TWO CHICKEN FEET left in the chicken stew from the night before,
half a bar of soap (worth about 0.33 USD), the fake Christmas tree (not
to worry, they dropped all of the ornaments in front of the house), and
even one glass bottle of beer which fell as they were leaving and broke on my front porch.
In short – I’m okay, my roommate is okay, and I have insurance for my tech stuff.
Continuing
the story, my roommate almost immediately assumes they entered the
house without making noise by using magic and casting a spell. We go to
the police and as I’m recounting what has happened, the three officers
outside overhear the report and begin talking about how the thieves must
have used magic. After reporting it to the police, I go to my sitemate’s house (HUGE shout out here to Alex, my sitemate,
for all of her support that day and since then). I wake her up at about
5:30 AM so I can make some phone calls and begin to figure things out.
Over the course of the day we slowly realize all of the things missing.
My roommate’s house keys had been taken along with various other items.
For example, at first I did not realize I was missing two of my hard
drives – at first I only realized one was gone. Turns out they took the
cord to my electric oven and decided to leave the oven!!
At
around 7 AM the local neighbourhood kids came over and saw the house in
disarray. In half disbelief, the local kids begin scouring the area for
signs of clues. They found a crowbar in the grass where the thieves
used a motorcycle to carry their winnings on home. Between the crowbar
and our fans, we began to understand how they got into the house without
either of us waking up. My coloring supplies where in my room so I grab them and have the criancas sitting on my front porch dutifully coloring while I continue to make calls and send emails.
After going to the police I knew I would have to decide what to do about the criancas
(local kids). I knew I did not want any distractions and it would be an
added stress. But I also knew I needed to have their presence. The criancas,
as frustrating as they may be sometimes, are a large part of why I love
being here. I was already robbed – that I could not change. But I did
not want these thieves to also steal coloring time from the kids.
I have often wondered how I would react if all of the things I owned were
taken. If all the advantages life has given me were stripped, would I
be able to recuperate and get back up? I’d like to think yes but
hopefully I’ll never have to truly find out. What I do know is this –
you can steal the things I have without my permission. I will make it
challenging, but it’s always possible. However – my spirit and my heart
are mine alone to give and I am not going to let some poor and hungry
thieves take my spirit (I mean they took the two chicken feet for goodness gracious!! I can only imagine how hungry they were). Allowing the criancas to come over and color was my way of saying to myself and my community – try to steal my things sure. But still my spirit? My resolve? I think not.
I
started planning repairs and making purchases in town to improve the
security of my house. I bought new door locks and immediately replaced
the locks on our doors.
Furthermore, we went to bed very late the night before and were
probably in deep sleep when they entered. Going to bed the night after,
the window where they broke in was still unsecured. Still unnerved a
bit, I set alarms throughout the night and woke up about every hour. The next morning I had the welders working on making grates for the windows to the house.
With
the repairs completed thus far, if someone wants to enter by a window
they’re going to have to take down the entire wall. I’m working on
reinforcing the doors next – to break-in through a door someone will
have to use an axe to split the wooden door. At least those are my
plans. My windows are now well secured and I have been sleeping
perfectly during the nights again.
In
all honesty, I did not think I would ever be robbed let alone while in
my house in my community. I felt safe and secure here – I felt welcomed,
wanted, and invited.
I was arrogant and assumed because I had positive relationships in my
community I would be protected. But people in the community get robbed
too.
I
should also say – I still feel welcomed, wanted, and invited. The
feelings of safety and security are returning as I turn my house into a
fortress. My
community has been supportive. I had two families stop by and donate
money to me – money which I knew they could use more but money which I
could not socially refuse. I had a few families stop by and give me “milho”, ground corn powder – milho which I knew they could use more (especially considering how I do not like cooking with it) but milho
I could not socially refuse. Several families in my community asked if
they could cook me dinner for the foreseeable future until I would be
able to get my house fixed and buy food again. My neighbour is the procurador
of my district – essentially the person in charge of the justice
system. So, he sent the Police Chief to my house and by 8 AM the day of
the robbery I had both his personal numbers. Wow.
I
knew Peace Corps would approve housing repairs/upgrades,
reimbursements, and I have insurance for my tech. The things stolen
would be replaced.
How fortunate am I?
My
house was robbed and everything in the main room of value removed and
taken. My community came to me and gave support in various ways. I am
fortunate enough that shortly after the robbery I had a trip to
Nelspruit, South Africa planned to handle visa issues for Peace Corps.
Hence, I already have a new computer. I am fortunate enough that I have
parents able and willing to front me some money until my insurance money
comes in.
It’s
been hard for me watching my roommate react to the speed of which our
items are being replaced. He comes from a subsistence farming family –
tomorrow they are slaughtering a pig so they can sell the meat to sign
their kids up for school this coming year. Overall,
I am pretty damn fortunate. I am loved and cared for. I will not nor
cannot let the actions of the few taint my spirits or my love for my
community.
With
that said, I almost broke down. I almost wanted to say, screw it all
this place isn’t for me – and here’s the story from last Wednesday,
January 10th:
A
group of us were in South Africa applying for work visas for
Mozambique. Crossing back into Mozambique from South Africa, I wanted to
exchange a 100 USD bill to help with some of my cash flows. The rate
should have been 1 USD to 58 Meticais, and I knew that. I come up to a
group of 4 money exchangers and they tell me the rate is 60. I’m oddly
surprised and say okay. He counts to 5900 and I tell him to keep the
other 100. At this point, I’m thinking the rates either changed without
me knowing or he doesn’t know that the rate has dropped. He hands me the
stack of cash to count it. I double count it and it’s perfect – 5900 mets in 100s and 200s. The fact that he counted it in 100s and 200s should have been the other dead give away
– he should have been using 1000s and/or 500s. It’s rare for people to
have that many small bills let alone be okay with using that many small
bills. I hand him his stack of cash back and pull my 100 USD bill out. I
hand him my bill, he hands me a wad of cash and tells me I should put
it away because it’s a lot of money and someone might take it. Without
thinking twice, I put it in my pocket and walk to the bar where the rest
of the PCVs are enjoying a beer.
I
should have noticed a lot of things going wrong – there were plenty of
warning signs. I also should have asked one of the other PCVs to stay
back with me while I exchanged. But they were within sight so what could
go wrong?
I
get to the bar, pull out the wad and begin recounting before putting it
securely away. Turns out it was a different wad of cash totally about
3300 meticais!! I was furious with myself and furious with Mozambique in
general. I felt overwhelmingly exhausted with constantly fighting –
fighting for myself, for the criancas,
for my community. I have two other PCVs return to the exchange location
with me – and of course the 4 men are gone. There are others in the
vicinity and I begin talking to them and explaining what happened. I
could feel the anger surging inside – and it wasn’t just anger about
being robbed 2500 meticais. It was anger for everything in my house
being taken, for feeling like the thieves who broke into my house will
never get caught, for feeling robbed without being able to fight back,
and then finally for being robbed 2500 meticais right in front of my
face. I felt like a fool.
I
explained who I was, how I worked in Mozambique as a high school
teacher, and I tried to say if they don’t know who the 4 men are, maybe
the police would help them remember. After all, we were at the border
entry so the police were also within shouting distance. One of the
bystanders responds “dude, next time you gotta
let us know you’re one of us so this doesn’t happen!” – to which I
laugh and it even brings out a small smile. Eventually, we turn and
return to our bar with the rest of the PCVs. A fellow PCV bought me a
beer and hands it to me. After taking but one sip, a bystander comes up
to me and is like “follow me”.
So myself and another PCV follow him to one of the “Chefe’s”
(boss) of the money exchangers. This Boss-dude has me explain what
happens and then he refunds all of the money I was short. I gave him and
the bystander who brought me to him 300 meticais as a tip/thank you.
All of a sudden, I feel relieved but guilty that I was so quick to give
up hope. I also feel rejuvenated but completely mentally exhausted. We
return to the bar to continue drinking our beers.
A
few minutes later, THE BOSS of the money exchangers came up to talk to
me. He was walking with a guard and they both were carrying batons. He
tells me that he heard the story in the street but needs me to confirm
what happened. I tell him everything (leaving out only the part about me
giving the middle boss dude a 300 met thank you tip). He asks if my
money is complete to which I respond yes. He apologies for the incident,
thanks me for my report, and turns to leave. That was that.
It’s
been a trying two weeks. I’ve been emotionally drained and exhausted.
I’m back home for now but have to leave soon for a Peace Corps
Conference.
Drama
aside, it has also been a productive two weeks. We sold/distributed all
of the Peanut Butter we had in stock! I have a meeting with the
director of a graphite mine later this week about supplying their
kitchen with peanut butter. We have a new contact in Pemba who wants to
sell our PB in their store. I’m hoping to meet with some Peace Corps Chefes while I’m in Maputo to discuss our grant application in which we’re hopefully to buy a motor/bicycle powered machine that will allow us to meet an increase in production.
Stay
tuned, because I plan on writing two blog posts this month! I want to
take some time and write a little more about PB and life here. As many
reading this may know, President Trump made a derogatory comment about
Haiti and the continent of Africa in regards to immigration. For now, I wont
deny his alleged comment about it being a “shithole”. There is trash in
many streets in my town. Many homes do not have proper toilets or
adequate bathrooms. Less than 10% of my town has power and even fewer
people are linked to the city water, which runs for an hour or so at
best every so often. Many children are malnourished and disease is
rampant. Would I ever call my community a “shithole?”- No. I love it too
much. Is it rough around the edges? Ya. Is life hard here? Ya. What I want to discuss is WHY.
As
always, thank you for taking the time to read my post. I appreciate all
of the support I have and continue to receive. I want to give a cheers
to the chicken feet and the fake Christmas trees around the world – they
can steal what we have but only we can give our spirits and hearts.
They do not have permission to steal our spirits and hearts – however
challenging it may be at times. May we work toward a world where people do not need to steal out of hunger.
With all my heart,
Daniel Bladow
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