Dar es Salaam 2

Saturday 21 April, 2007 - 22:31 - Dar es Salaam

Today was an all around pretty rotten day, mostly because bad things happened to me and I failed to choose a positive reaction. It started off well – a phone call from home and an hour-long conversation with my mom. We did not talk about anything serious, but it was nice to hear her voice and be cared about from so far away. She convinced me to carve out time to see animals and check out Kilimanjaro before returning home. I do not normally choose to spend money on myself for luxuries, but it seemed like a nice idea - a treat to myself after all these months - so I went into town to withdraw money from the ATM.

There is a machine just opposite of the main bus stage that I have always sworn I’d never use. The glass doors and the ATM’s proximity to such a busy area practically invite pick-pocketing. But today was hot, I was tired, and it was only going to be once. Like lions picking out a meal, they must have been sitting back, watching people, looking for targets – otherwise they would never have picked me with my dirt-stained shirt and holed shoes, carrying a grass-woven basket and some wooden spoons from the market; I did not look like the wazungu with money who take taxis and wear ties. But they watched everything I did – analyzed my moves, calculated their chances, and determined I was it.

The money was in my front pocket, zipped closed, along with my other valuables – phone, camera, et cetera. Just like every other day, a zillion people were trying to get in and out of the matatu simultaneously. I was somewhere near the back of the bulge trying to squeeze in when the commotion kicked off. I’m not sure how I knew I was being robbed – perhaps it was the slight shift in weight, or maybe a sixth sense? Somehow I knew. The rest happened really fast. I turned around and immediately picked him out of the crowd, then lunged and had him in my arms, screaming so as to draw everyone’s attention. But good thieves work in teams, and already the first handoff, half my money, had been made. He threw his half on the ground and all eyes followed, creating a distraction for his partner to slip away. When I bent down to pick it up, my phone was there too. Quickly, though, the guy next to me (probably the one who was about to take the next hand off) told me it was his, so, confused, I handed it to him – then he was gone. By this time onlookers had gotten involved – younger Tanzanians were holding the thief while outraged elders slapped him across the face. They were all ashamed of their countryman.

People wanted to report him to the police, so half the mob went together. We got there in a hurry, but I realized my phone was gone, as was the other cut of money. Neither were recoverable, and seeking just punishment was not going to change the situation – nor would it have changed his behavior. So, deciding to save time and energy on the follow-up work, I cut my losses, declined the report and let him go. We spontaneously shook hands – twice, actually, one after another - which was kind of odd. The first was to convey that what was done was done, in the past, and that we should move on. The second had a more intentional feel, more knowing, less settling – something closer to forgiveness. I was not fully there yet, but could not stay in an angry state much longer without suffocating in my own evil – hatred, pride, and self-centeredness. You know how it goes – before attempting forgiveness all one can do is dwell in victimization and wallow in self-pity – and what useful purposes do those serve?

But I’m no saint. Like a float toy at the base of a dam, my mind cycled through tension, confusion and anger the rest of the day. Things happen for a reason, yes – but trying to figure out what that is, is a waste of time because I’ll never know. At best I might stumble across a reason that is good enough to appease my angst, but who knows if that will be right? So I relinquished control of the reason thing as well and just tried to move on. What I do know is that at least I walked away from being robbed without any bullets or knives – and I still have four working appendages, ease with breathing and an intact mind, and that’s more than enough to be grateful for.