Stop thief! Oh, the humanity!

 

Since I got the dog, I haven’t walked home much because I don’t want to walk for 1:20, get home at 6 and then take Zu for an hourlong walk. I’m mostly taking the shuttle home but on Fridays, if it’s not too hot or I’m not lugging a bunch of stuff home, I still like to walk.

It’s really a lovely walk, or most of it is, anyway. In my mind, it’s a video game that I’ve broken down into 10 levels, each with its own challenges. For example, leg 3 is the longest one – so long I break it down into three smaller sections – is beautiful but has people pushing or pulling carts through the potholed-filled roads, random zebu blocking the path and motorcycles or bicyclists passing and kicking out exhaust or up dust/mud.

Other challenges include a narrow bridge, traffic, hills and cobblestone roads.  At no point has “fear of being mugged” entered the picture. Until Friday.

My week was rough, and I looked forward to the walk and listening to Careless People by Sarah Wynn-Williams, which someone recommended. And I did enjoy it – through level 3, most of 4 and then 5. But 6 went sideways – I had my phone snatched!

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This is the book I was aborbed in.

Backing up, close to the end of 3, I walked past two guys. This is not unusual – I walk fast and there are lots of people, including kids getting off school. I say bonjour or salama to everyone, and everyone is friendly. And I didn’t think anything of passing the two guys.

A couple minutes later, they passed me. Again, not unusual – think of all the times this happens in cars. But then one slowed up and I passed him, and I remember thinking, “Hmm, I don’t like being between these two guys; I will slow down and let that one catch up.” And he did, so they were again together.

Then they slowed their pace slightly. At this point, I was coming up to level 4, which is where most people go left but I job right down a little hill and then wind around to the narrow bridge before hitting 5, which is the stretch between the airport road and the bridge – the big road I cross. I slowed some more, which was starting to get a little weird, as it seemed really slow. But at that point, I had a Spidey sense that something was off -  except I had no idea what to do with it.

Right where 3 switches to 4, I fully expected them to walk to the left. But they stopped completely – lighting up cigarettes (which not people do, incidentally) and I didn’t see that I had a choice but to keep going. I nodded to them as I passed --  bonjour – and kept going.

I tried to walk really fast, but I got caught behind parents with two small kids on the narrow bridge and I couldn’t pass, plus there were two people on bikes coming the other way, right before a guy with a giant sack of some sort. Basically, I couldn’t go fast. And I tried to check behind me to see if they’d turned, but I did not see anyone.

So, honestly, I forgot about it. I took a stop on the airport road to take a sip of water and turned down a narrow passageway, then exited to the cobblestone road that is level 7. Not five meters in, I suddenly heard footsteps and felt a bump.

I knew exactly what happened – someone grabbed my phone and took off. As it’s a little street, there were people everywhere and they started yelling and I took off after the guy – and so did they.

I am not fast, but they were. I ran back down the narrow passageway and to the road, where the guy was already 100 meters up. I was yelling STOP HIM! (in English, so not helpful) and others were also yelling, pointing and chasing.  This was pure Willie Nelson -Toby Keith justice, and, as people joined the chase, I honestly started worrying what would happen if they caught him.

He got to an intersection with a little road, and I could see other passers-by pointing where he was going, and about that time, a guy pulled up next to me on a motorcycle, asking what happened. It took a second to register it was a colleague, and then I pointed and said that guy had my phone.

So he took off, and I really have no doubt he saved the guy’s life. He told me later the crowd was wailing on him, and then a police officer (somehow) got him and was holding him but not making the crowd stop beating him up.

Eventually, the crowd helped me catch up to the cop and the perp, but another cop had my phone. (Seriously, I have never seen a patrolling cop, so I have no idea where they came from.) I was told I needed to go file a report, and I thought they meant in the police van. I went to the van and, lo and behold, the perp was also in the van. And I wasn’t giving a statement there; I had to go downtown.

Possibly that was the most surreal part of it – being in a police van, sitting in front of a guy who’d robbed me, lights on and all. And by “van,” think something probably minted in 1972, with no seatbelts, pretty much no upholstery (and certainly no A/C – the windows were open) and a sliding door that didn’t close. But hey, we had a light and a siren, not that one can generate speed on the roads of Tana.

In the van, looking at the guy, I realized he must have been one of the two I’d seen before. I asked him (in French) if he had been following me, but he didn’t respond. I did not tell the police about that suspicion, but filed a just-the-facts-ma’am report. Fortunately, my colleague didn’t listen to me when I said to not bother coming down to the police station with me and followed me to the police station. I hadn’t realized it was going to be the main one and assumed that it would be fairly nearby. Had he not followed me, I have no idea how I would have gotten home.

I did, of course, call out security team and reported it and all, and they offered to come give me a ride home, but my colleague had a motorcycle, meaning we’d get home at a reasonable hour. The traffic at that time of day is a complete standstill, so we weaved in and out and got home just before the rain.

I haven’t told too many people here, although I did run into the colleague who recommended the book and jokingly told her I’d gotten robbed and it was all her fault. (Mental note: when security says to not carry your cell phone in your backpack pockets or listen to headphones, listen to them!) But word gets out at a small post and I’m already being asked if I am OK.

And I am. I wasn’t mugged at knifepoint; it was the equivalent of a smash-and-grab. I’ve no idea how he did it so fast, really – I can’t pull the phone out of the pocket easily myself.

God looks out for me, and did, not only sending the colleague my way but through all the people who made sure the guy didn’t get away with it.  And, by my colleague’s estimate, it was over 100 people. They have no idea who I am, but they saw what he did and came to help.

The roads here

Although I bought a car before coming here, I don’t drive regularly. The most I’ve ventured is to the grocery store, which is less than two miles away, or, in desperation, to the kennel, which is near the airport. Both are equally terrifying to me. The roads are narrow with all kinds of obstacles in the way somehow – some of them living and breathing.

The grocery store is about five turns away, left out of my garage and then the drive, then a sharp (and blind) right up a giant hill. Then, there’s a left out of the apartment complex, thankfully assisted by the guard. But that’s where the scary begins, because the road doesn’t so much have lands or anything, plus there is always an assortment of people, vendors, motortaxis and such along the sides. This is in addition of it not really being wide enough for two cars to begin with, and that’s not counting the slight ditch on either side or the giant concrete thing that squishes two “lanes” into one.

But after that, as well as a bizarre right that’s sort of a cut through of a gas station with no real traffic pattern and a left at a pharmacy where three roads come together with no discernable right-of-way, it’s all downhill to the grocery store. I mean, there are taxi vans stopping in front of you all the time, people jumping out, random dogs and things like that, but the line of sight is good – at least until you arrive at the roundabout. If there are police there directing traffic, that’s always a mess, but if not, it runs more or less how it’s supposed to, although I’ll never enter one without saying a prayer and holding my breath.

Yesterday, it was a little scarier than usual because almost immediately after the roundabout, the grocery store is on the right. Since it’s a two-lane roundabout that feeds from a single lane, it’s a bit risky, and Friday morning there was a giant blue van sitting on the side of the road, out of traffic but getting ready to enter. I had to honk to make sure he didn’t run into me, but it was fine.

Honking isn’t impolite here, but mostly people, especially taxi van drivers, rely on a lot of (polite) hand signals. A wave outside the driver’s since window can either mean “I see you and I’m waiting on you to go,” “I see you and I acknowledge you’re there, but I’m going anyway” or “My turn, just hold on a sec.” No malice seems intended.

The kennel is a bit farther away but, after the initial downhill through a market (thankfully, one way, although there are way too many people there), a blind right turn and a much bigger roundabout, it’s less crowded and therefore not as bad. Well, unless it’s rush hour. Then, the turn out of the kennel road is a left and that’s never, ever done without a prayer.

So yeah, I drive as little as possible. We have a shuttle we can pay to take to and from work, and I have no problem letting a professional drive. Every day, I am reminded why I don’t drive.

It’s the rainy season, so the rains have compounded the issues with the roads, which are full of potholes on their best days. There are also little shops and such crowding the streets and people flooding the areas, making driving pretty heart-stopping.

The way itself isn’t more than 6-7 miles, but it can take an hour or more. Last rainy season, on a day I walked home in 1:20, it took the commuters three hours. There are only about four turns – one of them hairpin – but it’s a lot of winding on the overly-crowded road. Once we’re at the roundabout, though, there are two ways to go – the long way, or “Skinny Road.” The long way is the safe bet, but it takes forever because traffic is at a standstill before the next roundabout. After that, you’re home free, but getting there can take 20 minutes.

Skinny Road, OTOH, is a quicker route, but it’s also like a cut-rate Disney ride. It’s not paved, full of potholes and, well, skinny. When my colleagues take it, they tuck in their rearview mirrors so as not the dink them. One commented that every time he took the road, it took 10 years off his car’s life. Fortunately, it’s (mostly) one-way, although occasionally a motorcyclist or banana cart guy will buck the system and mess everything up. My fear is a flat tire – there’s nothing you can do.

Before deploying overseas, we have to take this week-long course that includes defensive – really defensive – driving, including how to get out of nightmare situations. This could mean ramming into a car to get away or jumping curbs. Well, on Skinny Road, neither is possible. The concept of curbs in general isn’t a thing here. It’s always a relief when you can see the end, although if there’s a car that’s going to try to go the other way, it’s going to be at that spot. But oh, to get off the pothole-y dirt road and back to pavement, no matter how potholed it is, is a relief.