A Thief in the Night?

[Editor’s Apology: Sorry if this turns out spotty on the grammar/spelling. I’ve been reading and writing in Portuguese all day and my mind is kind a blend of language right now. And not a nice blend, like a milkshake. Its more like a spinach and yoghurt smoothie with a good deal of protein powder to keep my glamour muscles looking good. I tried to proofread, but offer no promises.]

A couple weeks back we had a visitor who shall remain nameless. No, it was not Voldemort, but if you look around hard enough (read: not very hard) you can find it out. I’m just dropping the name to save some embarrassment. Anyways, she got here when I was still in South Africa.

Among my responsibilities here in the orphanage is serving the meals, keeping clean-shaven, and showing the visitors around. Well, one afternoon the kids had all been fed and I decided to shoot for two-out-of-three and take the visitor to town to show her around. We hit all the popular spots tourist spots (the grocery store and internet cafe), and even a few that are hard to come by (don’t ask), and hit the bus stop to come home.

A couple days later I got a knock on my door from nearly sobbing visitor who just had an afternoon so bad you it could not have been scripted worse in a movie. Having taught her how to get into town and move around, she took it upon herself to go into the city for the morning. After an encounter with “the kissing man” (yes, its exactly what it sounds like) she decided to cut her losses and head home. After making it to the bus stop, and this is where I’m blurry on the details, she was talking on her iPhone when some guys came up and literally just snatched it from her and started running away. After a couple steps she found herself in a giant puddle and lost her sandals. Somewhere along the way she dropped her back-up cell phone too. And then, rounding the corner chasing the thieves she ran smack into a (slowly) moving car, knocking her to the ground and allowing the perps to get away.

Victor rushed into town right away to talk to any witnesses that were still in the area. Apparently it was hard to determine who was eyewitnesses and who had simply heard the unforgettable story of the white girl who got her iPhone stolen and then got hit by a car. Then, after Victor when to the police precinct and I got the third best text message in the history of text messages:

“I am at the location now with secret police.”

It was to be all for naught, as the undercover brothers turned up nothing. But it gets better. The next day, as Victor was doing errands around town, he had a momentary lapse in judgement and left his blackberry phone sitting on the car seat with the car unlocked. Unlocked cars in Mozambique (read: all of Africa) are high up on the “never ever do this” list right ahead of getting in a car that’s missing the passenger door and right behind kissing a cobra.

Well, it wasn’t two seconds before Victors phone got stolen having been left on the seat in the unlocked car. I’m sure the police just laughed at him when he made the report. Three phones he reported stolen in two days. If this was Nigeria he’d probably be put on a watch list for running some type of scam (sorry Nigeria*).

If my mom is reading this (you know she is) I want to say two things. First, that I’m destroying your NCAA bracket, and second, that there’s a very small chance of some encounter like this happening to me. The reason is because I’m bigger than everybody else in this country by a lot. And size is the first thing people consider. The other thing to consider is that I have a good reputation in our neighborhood. A reputation that says I work at the orphanage and am I nice person helping your community. My reputation also says don’t mess with me cause I will destroy you. Earning this reputation involves serving meals to 50 great kids three times a day and walking around the neighborhood with an ax in hand. It a while, but eventually the message stuck.

*No I’m not.