A South African Rite Of Passage

Well, it was bound to happen....

Last Friday (just over one week ago) I went to Mokopane; it was another ordinary day. As is usually the case on Fridays, I went to the Mosque just outside of town and prayed Friday (Juma) Prayers. Afterwards I went to my friend Sulayman's house for lunch, and then afterwards he gave me a ride back into town, to the hardware store where he works.

Ismail's Hardware, where I got dropped off, is about one block away from the main taxi rank in Mokopane; it's an area I know very well. I've walked it so many times; every time I'm there I almost feel like it's an extension of my village because people just seem to know me and greet me in Shangaan, especially lots of people whom I've never met before. That "local celebrity" feel makes me feel welcome in town, feel like I belong, safe, like it's MY town.

Alas....not EVERYONE knows me. I was walking near the taxi rank, on a crowded, busy street. Stalls selling sacks of potatoes, mopani worms, cellphone chargers, and cheap hats were all around me. I know it well. I heard a beep from my cellphone; I'd received an SMS. I reached into my pocket, pulled out my cellphone; it was an SMS from Caitlin.

I was reading the SMS, looking down at my cellphone, and didn't see the guy step in front of me, blocking my path. I noticed at the last second, and tried to move out of the way, to side-step him, but then I noticed that there was another guy on my side, blocking my way. Immediately, I was pushed into the small alleyway I was at the entrance of. There were three of them: one snatched my phone out of my hand. A second started rummaging through my pockets. The third stood on the side, holding me back, saying over and over into my ear:

"Shut up. Shut up. I shoot you. I shoot you."

One of the three grabbed my wallet and opened it. I saw my identification and bank card looking at me, and the thought of losing them, the hassles I'd have to go through, made me inadvertently speak. I asked for my ID back. So, in a small gesture of decency (can you even call it that?), the douchebag holding my wallet took all of the money out of my wallet (it was about 400 Rand or so) and then actually handed the wallet back to me. I was thankful for that. The "spokesman" of the group, who had been threatening to shoot me, said "Get out of here" and pushed me.

I went to leave, but the other asshole was blocking my way. And still, the spokesman was telling me to "Get out of here." This was just ridiculous; I was pretty pissed off and I yelled "I'm going!" I pushed my way through and left them behind.

And that was that. It took less than a minute total. Like so many others, I was mugged. It's almost become a South African "rite of passage", it's so common. What really got to me was that, although I'd expected a mugging at some point and always guarded myself against it, I'd never thought it would happen in MY town. I let my guard down; I got too comfortable. It won't happen again.

All night I was pissed off, in a bad mood. The next day Erica and I were scheduled to meet Mmushi, a guy who runs a local NGO, for lunch in town. I went into the meeting with a bad attitude, and came out of it entirely reassured. We had an intense 2-hour conversation; Mmushi is an intelligent, caring, dedicated guy who knows what he's talking about. When arriving in South Africa, I'd hoped that my teachers would be like that and was sorely disappointed. But Mmushi could talk at length with Erica and I about things we care about. Even more surprising, his views were not outdated, but were balanced and informed. Then he paid for our meal, took us to Checkers (the local supermarket) and bought us a bunch of food. And the whole time, he was saying, "I'm so sorry you were mugged yesterday. I feel bad. I want to treat you today, to make you feel better."

People like that make my experience that much more worthwhile. Last Saturday entirely made up for last Friday.