Yes, the day I’ve been dreading for so long has finally come. I’ve been robbed, at gunpoint.
Early on Friday morning, May 26, as I was on my way to Nongqubela train station in Site B Khayelitsha, I was robbed by two youths. A gun was pressed against my chest, hard, and I was ordered to hand over my cellphone and my backpack. Then the two young men simply turned away and robbed another woman who was coming behind me. I heard her cries, but I couldn’t do anything.
Still numb from shock and shaking, I go to the police station to report what has just happened. On the way there, I tell myself I’m not going to cry — I’m going to be strong. I’m so hurt, but strangely, there’s no anger inside. All I feel is pain, loss and sadness. I try to speak to the officer but nothing comes out. And then, I start crying.
When I regain my composure, I open my eyes to see two officers staring at me. They ask some questions and I answer. They tell me to report this to my cellphone network and have the phone blocked.
As I leave, one officer says to me, ‘Hayi sisi, these things happen.†I take this as his way of comforting me, and though I would have preferred him to get into a police car with me and search for the thieves, I say ‘thank you†and leave.
On my way to the train station, I think about what the officer said. And I know he’s right. I knew it was just a matter of time before this happened to me. I knew I was living on borrowed time.
Imagine: aged 25, living in Khayelitsha and never been robbed! Here violence is our daily bread. I’ve seen people being beaten up, neighbours stabbing each other in the street, a man hacking his wife with a panga, rapists paraded, stark naked, on the street by angry residents. I’ve seen thugs throwing bricks at a youngster while he lay helplessly on the ground, and I’ve seen thugs shooting at each other. With all the shootings and stabbings, sometimes you think you’re in a war zone.
A while ago, while my mom was watching TV, a bullet came through our window and hit the wall, missing her by an inch. In just two weeks last year, she was robbed twice at gunpoint. All her friends have been robbed; one was robbed as she was locking her front gate.
My mom no longer takes the train to work; she now uses the bus and doesn’t have to leave the house so early in the morning. But this doesn’t really guarantee your safety.
Just last week while my mom was on her way to the bus stop, she met a woman walking down the street crying hysterically; apparently they robbed her and her daughter, also at gunpoint. My mom said the woman had soiled herself. I’ve heard some people wet themselves when they’re frightened.
While waiting for the train, I hear three girls talking about crime — two of them have just been robbed. And guess by whom? Yes, by the same tsotsis that robbed me earlier. It’s a bad dream. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Can someone please tell me, where else in the world does this happen? The girls say that another middle-aged woman had her bag snatched. Can you imagine how many people these boys robbed this morning?
For now, I’m feeling relieved that my life was spared and, in a funny way, to know finally how it feels to have a gun pointed at me. I knew one day it would happen. That’s my world. I live in the most violent, lawless place in South Africa and nothing is being done to change that reality. Perhaps the next time it happens (and I promise you it will), I won’t hurt so much.