Extract
I got this on my Neighbourhood Watch WhatsApp group this week: “Our nanny and baby were held at gunpoint a few minutes ago, on Grant. My wife stopped at the pharmacy and went in. A thug approached the car and pointed a gun at the nanny threatening to take the baby and demanded a laptop. “There was no laptop so he got into a white Pajero and drove off.”
The neighbour went on to describe what “the thug” looked like and what he was wearing before telling the group his family was in extreme shock.
The baby’s nanny, he said, could barely breathe. His wife was having difficulty sleeping. They’d threatened his child! He was frightened all the time.
He warned us all to be extra vigilant. And I extend this warning to all of you.
I know that it’s unfashionable to talk about that hoary old chestnut, crime. It’s like saying, “Look, the sun rose today.” It is an utterly unnecessary observation that needs no mentioning. In fact, a lot of us would prefer to pretend that crime doesn’t exist. Perhaps pretend is too strong a word: ignore would be more appropriate.
Some of my friends have banned it from dinner party conversation. Others will put their fingers in their ears and refuse to listen to horror stories about muggings and hijackings.
Someone I know has unfriended people for posting videos of crimes-in-progress and blocked someone for sending her pictures of people in distress from random criminal acts.
My therapist says it’s one of the ways that we, those of us who live in Johannesburg, cope with the extreme stress of living in a crime zone. People in this city are suffering from continuous, low grade, unspecified anxiety, a counsellor who deals with the aftermath of criminal attacks says.
It’s the worst kind, he explains, since we are all in heightened “flight” mode, all the time.
We know all that! And so I must explain: this column has been prompted by a host of things that have happened to people I care about in the past week — all of them horrific, with devastating consequences.
But first, a ghost story.
My American friend Melinda, a fearless, Pulitzer Prize winning journalist, posted this story on Facebook.
“And now for something totally different,” she wrote. “Last night I was home by myself finishing an editorial. I drifted off to sleep, then woke up when I thought I heard Bill [her husband] come in, walk up the steps, and walk right back down.
“I called him, but he didn’t answer, so I walked downstairs and saw that no one was there. A minute later, he actually did get home from work. It wasn’t scary, but I really don’t think I was dreaming. Ghostly visitation?”
We’ve started victim-shaming our friends; we blame them for bringing bad fortune on themselves. On top of the trauma, those who’ve suffered what must be among the worst days of their lives have to feel guilty for inviting criminals to violate them. It’s grossly unfair
I was gobsmacked. She heard someone walk up her stairs, and then back down again, and thought it might be a ghost? She didn’t check to see if she’d turned on the alarm? That the doors were still locked? That the windows were closed?
She didn’t even once suspect that a burglary might be in progress? She didn’t press the panic button?
Melinda had dozens of comments on her post, most of them from her American Facebook friends, and not once did anyone ask if she was sure the mystery footsteps had not been those of an intruder. How wonderful to live in a world where you immediately attribute strange, inexplicable sounds to beings from another realm.
This doesn’t happen in our version of reality where we are taught, from very (very) early on, that our world is unsafe, that we live in a hostile environment, and should be prepared for bad things at all times.
Nine-year-old Nina, the daughter of a friend, was excited: experts were coming to her school the next day to teach them how to behave if they were in a carjacking, or at home being held up by men with guns.
How does a nine-year-old behave in these circumstances? Lie on the ground? Be absolutely still? Be very quiet — make no noise?. Close her eyes? Always listen to the “safe” adult with you? Do not look at the bad men? (Always men, women do not hold children hostage, it would seem.)
This is what we are teaching our kids along with maths and science. And, sadly, I’m glad that children are being given survival lessons — little ones need to be prepared for any eventuality.
Criminal counseling
Talking of lessons, all of us, need to be schooled in the etiquette of dealing with those who have just experienced a crime.
A friend and her husband were attacked in their car. His limited edition watch (worth hundreds of thousands of rand) was taken, as were her high price tag diamond rings, bracelets and Tanzanite earrings. Within hours, the couple was being scolded for having a large, showy SUV and for wearing expensive jewellery.
We’ve started victim-shaming our friends; we blame them for bringing bad fortune on themselves. On top of the trauma, those who’ve suffered what must be among the worst days of their lives have to feel guilty for inviting criminals to violate them. It’s grossly unfair.
My traumatised, terrified friend is so spooked by this, her second hijacking, that she is selling up her lucrative business and moving with her husband to a small coastal town in the western Cape.
It’s a travesty.
Cellphones are snatched while their owners stand on pavements waiting for Uber; and hijackings at robots are on the increase — Rosebank on Oxford at McDonalds, and Jan Smuts near Hyde Park Corner, it seems, are this week’s hot-spots in Johannesburg.
We live in an insane, strange city, evidenced by this story told by Frank. At a traffic light with his window open, a man stuck a gun against his head and demanded his cellphone. He’d just been at the gym and didn’t have his phone on him.
In the end, the gun-toting thug accepted his story, shrugged and reached out to fist-bump Frank. Frank was so surprised (“no hard feelings bru”) he reached out to fist-bump the man who, seconds before, had held a gun against his head. It’s a funny story. And not. We’re an odd lot.
So, be careful out there. Y’all. Be safe.
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