Friday, May 30, 2014

The Day I Haven't Exactly Forgotten About III

The Day I Haven't Exactly Forgotten About
The Day I Haven't Exactly Forgotten About II
... nothing! There was nothing in that hand bag worth losing my life over, but I had clung to it like there was a gold mine in there. Contents of hand bag:
1. a mobile phone that needed to be held together by 2 rubber bands
2. another mobile phone (fairly new) that at the time cost not more than GH¢150.00=$50.00*
3. 2 notepads and a couple of pens
4. my daily prayer book
5. cash worth GH¢10.00 = $3.33*
*I should add that at that time, GH¢1.00 was equivalent to $1.00, so the cost in $ were relatively higher

For me it wasn't about a gold mine in the bag (I wish), it was more of me feeling the bag was mine and the guy had no right to snatch it (me feeling violated), that I'd say informed my not so smart decision to hold on to it.

My mummy opens the gate and is going all like what happened etc. etc., but before I could say anything, the old ladies in my hood were right behind me and they just jumped in and told my mum my story, while I stood by and didn't get the opportunity to get a word in edgewise. Of course they got most of the story wrong, but before I could say anything, they had managed to somehow convince my mum to forget about me, leave me behind, and head to the scene.

I went inside my house first to find some slippers (totally proves I wasn't crazy) and then I headed up the road to the scene. It was my story. No way was I going to let a bunch of nice old ladies mess it up.

I get to the junction and a bunch of guys from my hood were smashing the wind shield (front & back) of the car. One guy was trying to stop them, but that didn't work until he explained that the car might also be stolen.

Now, there's a whole crowd (that's those not involved in the hunt) around, and me, the star (I so wish) had arrived and people were still telling their own versions of my story.

According to the bread and egg seller, she saw the car follow me from the first street onto hers and then onto my street. Did she do anything about it? No. So I wasn't particularly interested. According to this guy who was sitting in front of his gate a few metres away from where everything happened, he saw me get onto my street, he saw the car pull up next to me and then he saw the struggle, and then he got up and walked into his house. Yes, I remember seeing him and I remember when I first started screaming thief it was for his benefit (cos he was the only one I could see on my street), but when he got up, that's when I switched to shouting out thief in local languages.

Why did he get up and leave? He thought I knew the guy and we were having a lovers tiff and he didn't want to get involved. I almost screamed out, "like seriously!", but before I did, my mummy said I needed to go get myself checked out in a hospital (most reasonable thing I had heard all evening). Just then my brother drives onto my street, my mum brings him up to speed on the night's happenings, and tells him to take me first to the police station and then to the hospital.

We get to the police station, make a verbal report and I'm handed a hospital form and asked to go get myself checked, and make sure the attending doctor fills out the form. Just before my brother and I head on out of the station, one of the officers approaches us and says he needs to get to my hood since the robber is still at large, and secure the car as well.

He needed a ride from my brother since there was no car at the station. Like seriously...


  1. Was the thief ever caught? Were the police able to trace the car to the owner?
    True, you cane forget such an incident, it lives with you but as the years go by, just as a memory loosing it's traumatic potential

    1. Hmmmmm... at that point, I thought it was all over, but it just got weirder. Promise, will pick it up next week.

  2. *Sigh*......sounds like it happened in Nigeria....I am not sure where we have put our sense of citizenship and humanity!

    1. Yep, totally got that right. Sad though :(


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