Glass and blood

Nevermind Blood Diamond. If I wait until I’ve got a fitting review written to publish here I’ll never get to what I really want to say. This is a blog about being in Africa. In particular South Africa, so let’s get to it.

On 6 February 2007 my girlfriend was smash-and-grabbed. For those unfamiliar with the term it is the word we South Africans use to describe when a criminal breaks a window of your car and attempts to steal valuables inside. These valuables are typically notebook computers and ladies’ handbags. This particular criminal was after a PBMR bag (or more specifically the contents thereof) that was a gift to her.

Allow me to return to the beginning of the story. It was a wonderful evening out. We had gone to see a movie (The Departed, I think) and afterward, on a whim, decided to go to Capeesh, one of our favourite restaurants. For the first time in awhile we had travelled seperately as we both had to rush to make it to the movie on time. She went to her home in the East and I went to mine in the South. At a traffic light on the way home a man in black came up to the car and smashed the passenger-side window. It took him two tries, but he smashed it quickly enough. As he went for the bag, she grabbed it too. It was left zipped open when she paid the parking attendant the R6 we had to shell out to park in the lot outside the restaurant. The result was that the bag tore in half and its contents spilled onto the floor off the car when they faught for it.

When I got home I got a call from her mother who then put my girlfriend on the line when she indicated that she was able to speak to me. Initially we thought that the guy only got away with the empty front half of the bag. Only later did my girlfriend realise that she couldn’t find her flashdisk with pretty valuable information on it or the MP3 player I bought her for Christmas. I must say that I am very impressed with her — that her first reaction was to fight rather than just let the guy take it.

I hate how insecure this makes you feel. I know that we are well looked after, that no harm will come to us. I also know that there is much worse that could have happened and yet I feel that we should not have to be thankful for what did not happen. Instead I feel justified in my anger at the invasion of her space.

My intuition says that more women are targetted by criminals. Women are the ones who get smash-and-grabbed, more women are mugged, much more women are raped. I’d even extend that hypothesis and say that men are more often robbed when they’re around they’re families, significant others or female friends because then they have something to lose. I have no stats to back it up, but I’ll do my utmost to follow this up. Right now however, I am most definitely angry that women are suffering in Africa because they are physically weaker, making them more likely targets. I call such targetting cowardice.