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...

The Day I Haven't Exactly Forgotten About II

The Day I Haven't Exactly Forgotten About
... and then the strap of the hand bag snapped causing two things to happen.
1. I was flung into the gutter to my left. Not sure, but I felt the pain in my chin and then in my chest, so I'd say I fell in the gutter chin first.
2. The rear tyre of the car was thrown into the same gutter.

I remember feeling slightly dazed.
Someone or some people helped me out of the gutter and then I notice one of my shoes had fallen off. So then I decide to search for it. Found it in the gutter just where I fell and then I start to search for an earring that had also fallen off (I totally loved those earrings and the shoes too). After about 2 minutes, I give up the search for the missing earring (I must have realised the futility of my searching for an earring at about 10:45pm). I then move towards the car looking inside as though I was searching for something. Someone comes up behind me and asks what I'm looking for. I then tell this person (and anyone interested) that I was searching for my hand bag. Suddenly, one guy pops up seemingly out of no where and says the thief jumped over a wall with it.

Thus begun the mad hunt for the thief.

Me, after seeing all the curious stares I was receiving, some of them a mixture between curiosity and "the girl's gone crazy", and realising my hand bag was gone, I left all them people behind speculating as to what had happened and I set off to my house, wearing one shoe, the other in my hand, wearing one earring and the other most likely lying somewhere on the ground.

I get to the front of my house and bang on the gate. My keys to open the gate were in the stolen hand bag. My mum opens a window and shouts asking who it was. I guess she heard the commotion coming from the junction and was minding her own business in her house, not wanting to get mixed up with all that, and being all extra careful by checking who was banging on her gate before opening it.

Little did she know that all that ruckus had to do with her very own daughter, me. And then I start acting almost like someone who had just been through what I had.
I start sobbing and wailing and somewhere in there, I manage a, "mummy, he took my bag"... (what was in that bag?)

The Day I Haven't Exactly Forgotten About

There is a not so flattering scar on my leg to remind me of it, but then again, how many times do I look at my leg in a year?

A couple of weeks ago, I was in a hair salon in my neighbourhood when one of the neighbourhood guys walks in and says whats up to me. The ladies in the salon surprised ask how he knows me. Reason? I keep to myself a lot (always have) and hardly speak to anyone in my hood. Then the guy says, "oh, your salon is new here. This young lady helped get rid of thieves in this area".

Some 7 years ago (wow, seems like eons ago. how come the scar isn't totally obliterated?), just out of uni (translates to I had no job and no money aside what generous members of my family would give), I was heading home from a programme. It was about 10:30pm and I was in a bus (trotro). I hated taking the bus home (for varied reasons) but I really didn't have a choice. My car broke down a couple of weeks before and no one was willing to fix it (did I already say 'just out of uni').

I get to my junction and I get off the bus. I could have used one of two routes home, and I chose to use the one I never use. Why? Because there was this guy who kept staring at me funny in the bus who got off at the same bus stop, and headed in the direction of my usual route. So I thought, why not use the other route. It didn't matter to me at the time that the street I wanted to walk on was too quiet as compared to the one I usually take, which had a pub and a store on it that closed well after midnight.

I move from the main road (the bus stop) to this very quiet street and I instantly start feeling uncomfortable, so I walk as fast as my legs would carry me (which wasn't that fast. anyone who knows me would know why, plus I was in heels). You know how sometimes you can feel someone staring at you from behind? I think I've read it in books as "the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end", that's exactly how I felt. I would turn around every once in a while but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

Then I made the first turn and I felt better. Why? There was a bread and egg seller on this street I was on, and she had quite a number of customers at that time. Now, I relaxed a bit, but still walked as fast as my legs would carry me, and then I made it onto my street. I was convinced something was going to happen but I felt I was home free, or so I thought.

I was walking on the left side of the road with my hand bag hanging on my right shoulder, when this car at top speed, makes the turn onto my street. Thoroughly angry, I turn around ready to scream obscenities at the driver, but I didn't have to bother because the car came to an abrupt stop right next to me. Now I'm thinking that at least the driver was considerate and didn't want me to over utilise my vocal chords by screaming so he had come to me to receive his scolding (who even does that). I open my mouth ready to speak (I was still thoroughly angry) when the driver speaks first and asks me for directions to a bar. I stop for a second thinking about the name of the bar and thinking it sounded awfully familiar (all thoughts of the scolding he deserved out of my mind). I stopped for a second too long.

In that second, the driver of the car lunged for my hand bag and I did the most stupid thing anyone in that position could ever do. I held on. I struggled with him, and then I started shouting "thief", "thief". When I realised nothing was happening and no one was coming to my aide, I shouted thief in two different Ghanaian languages. Just then, I heard the steps of people running towards where I was, I guess from the bread and egg seller's place.

That was when the driver of the car went into reverse and stepped on the accelerator and moved with the same speed he had made the turn with. I'm not sure, but I think I fell chest first onto the ground because I was on the ground, but I first felt this sharp pain in my chest when I hit the ground. Now, I was screaming alright, but in pain. My voice however didn't sound like my own (it sounded too low for someone that was in the situation I was) and the sound of the car's engine totally muffled whatever sound did come out of me. Now, I just wanted to let go of the hand bag, but it was seemingly glued to my hand, and my hand wasn't doing what I so desperately wanted it to do; to let go of the bag.

So here I was, my right hand attached to my hand bag, a guy driving a car and holding on to a part of this same hand bag, the guy in the car and me outside the car and on the ground. Me, the hand bag, the guy and the car were all in motion, being powered by the engine of the car, which was of course controlled by the guy's foot on the accelerator. I knew once he made the turn off my street, and should I make it onto the main road with him, I was a goner.
Prior to that, I know I'd always told myself that should I ever be in a life threatening situation, I would say my last prayers. Thing is, I wanted to live and saying my last prayers meant I was ready to give up, which I wasn't.

All I kept saying over and over again was, "Jesus, help me"...