McLovin in Cape Town

As some of you may have heard, I got robbed on my own street last night by three guys who pulled up with their car, the hatchback bandits. First, they drove by, stopped, and asked me where Church Street is. I told them I'm not familiar with streets around here, so they pulled a U-turn at the next intersection and sped away. I made it halfway down my street and they came speeding back, stopping next to me on the sidewalk. A guy from the back gets out, grabs my arm while threatening to pull out a weapon in his jacket, and says "Get in the car, get in the car". I back up, and say "I'm not getting in the car", then drop my backpack and grocery bag. The guy hesitates, then grabs my backpack, gets back in the car, and they make their getaway. Now you're probably wondering, what's the damage? My Camelbak backpack (which I was quite fond of) contained my Macbook Pro laptop and charger, my iPod, Columbia jacket, glasses, and house keys...let's say $1,500. But, I was fortunate to walk away with my cell phone, wallet, most comfortable pants, apple juice, and shrimp flavored ramen noodles. All is not lost.

The loss of money is definitely a bummer. But luckily, I see this incidence from a new perspective. I still have my life, running water, and comfy pants, and can probably earn the money lost in three weeks. What really makes me angry is the loss of all the pictures and movies I have taken here in Cape Town, the masterful collection of music on my iPod, the Word document I had saved about teaching methods and techniques that were inspired by different university professors, and all of my past essays. But these "challenges" are laughable when compared to those of Lily and other Kayamandi residents. In the end, it's about perspective. Samuel L. Jackson's character from Pulp Fiction, Jules, has a few words to say about good, evil, and perspective:

"There's this passage I got memorized. Ezekiel 25:17. "The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the iniquities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is The Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee." I been saying that shit for years. And if you heard it, that meant your ass. I never gave much thought to what it meant. I just thought it was some cold-blooded shit to say to a motherfucker before I popped a cap in his ass. But I saw some shit this morning made me think twice. See, now I'm thinking, maybe it means you're the evil man, and I'm the righteous man, and Mr. 9 millimeter here, he's the shepherd protecting my righteous ass in the valley of darkness. Or it could mean you're the righteous man and I'm the shepherd and it's the world that's evil and selfish. I'd like that. But that shit ain't the truth. The truth is, you're the weak, and I'm the tyranny of evil men. But I'm trying, Ringo. I'm trying real hard to be the shepherd."

Quoting Pulp Fiction makes me feel pretty badass, and while I'll never be able to exact revenge personally, at least I can make fun of the thieves behind their backs. I mean these guys were a bunch of fuckin' amateurs - they let me go with wallet and cell phone in pocket. So, a) if they had any skill in the art of theft they could have taken my atm card and withdrawn all the money from my account in 5 minutes time; and b) let me get away with a phone I used to call the police. I mean, come on, that's absolutely pathetic. It would be like taking money from the register at a bank, while ignoring the vault, if you were to attempt a robbery. BURN!

My night did not end there. Eventually the cops showed up to take me to the station for all the formalities and to file a complaint. First we drove around Rondebosch and the surrounding areas to see if the thieves were feeling risky enough to double down their bet. We drove around for about ten minutes, when they got another call on the radio, causing them both to go into high alert mode. The one cop looks back and asks, "Do you mind if we make a detour?" What did he think I was going to say - no officer, I would rather not pursue this call that may be a life-threatening situation for someone, thanks for asking though (sarcasm). He turns on the flashers and puts the pedal to the metal, like the Millennium Falcon going into light-speed. Meanwhile, I'm in the back seat, having trouble digging the seat belt buckle out of the cushion, slightly freakin' out. With the tight roads, high speeds, and cars ahead simply ignoring the siren, I didn't exactly feel safe. Talk about suspense - I have no idea who or what we were apprehending at top speeds, the adrenaline was pumping. The car was a manual and there were a number of speed bumps around the neighborhoods, so the car was bumping all over the place (it was kinda like that one stationary-car-rollercoaster thing that used to exist at funscape, for all those lucky enough to know what I'm talking about). The driver didn't see one of the speed bumps that we hit at a pretty high speed, and he was courteous enough to look back and apologize once the car touched back down. Finally, we get to the scene of the crime, where six cop cars are surrounding this one small sedan. We didn't stay for long because the situation was very much under control.

I felt a bit like McLovin in Superbad, cruising around with two cops, joking with them between the pursuit. After that whole charade, I heard "79 Albion Road" (my house) come from the radio. The cop looked back and said, "Well, I guess the call just went out for your complaint" with a bit of a laugh. That means the thieves had about 25 minutes to get away before any police units were notified. If you were at all wondering about the police system in Cape Town, I think that says it all. Later they asked how their driving was, to which I replied, "A bit crazier than what I'm used to. But I'm from the suburbs, so it doesn't really count." He says, "What? Like NASCAR?" I joke, "Are you trying to call me a redneck?" It was some good fun and helped to distract the fact that I just lost some serious moolah.

Now, I think it's fair to say that I've had the full Cape Town experience.