(2) Reality Check

The view from Table Mountain.  Useful when you're trying to find perspective on things.  Note Robben Island in the distance.

...Continued


I'd gone to the internet cafe for a few hours and missed a few texts from Eve.  We were due to meet for Friday night drinks, but the foul weather was making that unlikely.  I ran out of credit and trotted back up the street to the apartment - it was gone 8pm already and I was looking forward to bed and a movie.

Eve was home, leaning against the counter.  A few lights were on but there was an eerie silence - I was surprised to see her like that: normally we'd enjoyed thumping beats from the kitchen stereo and chuckled that I couldn't name any of the artists.  This was different.  Something was wrong.

'No, I'm not alright.  I've been robbed', she answered plaintively.  She'd been crying, looked shocked and frozen.  I glanced around for an explanation, but the apartment looked the same - oh, God, I thought... dreadful scenarios welling up in my imagination.  This is South Africa: everyone worries about their security and packs pepper spray instead of cigarettes.  I didn't know her well enough to initiate a hug, and her defensive posture didn't encourage me either.  Was it a 'hold up', I stammered, confused, a car-jack, or worse? 

It was none of those.  The theft was of Eve's valuables in the flat - taken whilst we were out, sometime over the last 24hrs.  Personal possessions, irreplaceable.  My initial relief that she hadn't been assaulted caught in my throat - this didn't make sense.  Quicker than I can type this sentence, I had run though a mental check list.  The doors and windows had been locked, but there was no forced entry.  It's a top floor apartment and the building has security gates, cameras and guards.   That's an 'inside job', I thought crassly: only the long-serving maid had unfettered access.  Well, only the maid and, er, me.

Eve glanced at me and watched as I put 2+2 together.  We're not stupid, and even as we muttered about police and insurance, changing the door code and checking the CCTV, yet it was obvious that my standing was now compromised.  The bearded biker who blows into town with minimal character references - just how does he afford that lifestyle?  It's a bad movie plot, but under the circumstances I could see how it looked.  Missing those texts hadn't helped - they started 'arriving' over the next hour... nine in total, increasingly worried.

Eve was nice about it.  'There's a great hostel with secure parking in town', she said, 'It's important for me to be alone tonight', and 'my friend Nikki is coming around'.  'I hope you can understand.'  Of course I could, and I started filling my bags.  We said farewell and I rode away - the hostel was a good recommendation and in other circumstances I'd be very happy.  But I wasn't happy - this was shit.

I cared little about my own material situation - a quick check established my money stash untouched.  But I was sick in my stomach about the theft - I felt violated, and all those warm first impressions of South Africa have been poisoned.  I could see how much worse it was for Eve: her trust shattered, her security compromised, her emotional state riffled as cynically as her jewelry box.

Cape Town from above.

It was hard to sleep - I played back the past few days in my head, questioning whether I'd made a mistake, left any doors or windows unlocked, or let someone see me punch in the door code?  Had I said anything to the maid to encourage the theft: perhaps I said enough to explain I was 'just passing through'.  However it happened, it was my presence that presented someone with an opportunity.

I let Eve know my immediate plans - I'll not be joining her friends down the coast on holiday any more, obviously.  I need to make a police statement and I'm easy to find, I explained; the likelihood is that nothing will be done, she replied with a sigh.  This is South Africa.

It was a clever theft and that makes it worse, somehow.  Simple cash-grabs, bribes or swindles are par for the course.   Set ups are evil.  I picked holes in the plot ruefully: had I been the thief, it would have made more sense to steal from the owners, not Eve.  Such analysis is pointless - Eve will always be unsure.

With my ideal of Cape Town cracked, I'm standing back up and dusting myself down.  I'll learn a lesson but not let the thief rob me of my trust in others, or my belief that 99.999% of people are honest, friendly and deserving of respect, whatever their means and mode.  I really hope Eve can get over this shock too, in time, and retain her warm nature and kindness.

Sorry to be a bearer of bad blog news.  I wanted to explain how things have gone so strange.  It's just a crappy situation all round, and I've got to find silver linings:  as robberies go it was non-violent.  I'll gladly suffer personal indignity if the resulting karma keeps Eve and her friends safe in future.  

My next post will be more cheerful, too.  I'm heading out onto the Garden Route next week and if the weather would warm up I'll be in for a treat.

Stay safe out there.