I have been mugged

November 26, 2008

I have been mugged in the Port of Peace. It feels a bit weird to even write that. I guess I will just launch into the story, but I am still sort of in shock that it actually happened. My last entry about finding gratitude in your everyday experience couldn't have been more right on for advice I need to take at this moment as I alternate emotions from anger, to fear, to gratitude, to deep sadness. But overall, I can't catch a break here, even on vacation.

I go to Dar es Salaam to meet up with my friends Josh and Benja, both who are there for close of service before they return to the states. I am having a good time having them show me around the big city. We are eating good food, enjoying being on vacation, and seeing the sites of our capital city. I feel good because I am with two guys, both of who speak Swahili and know there way around Dar. The second night I am there Josh and I make plans to meet up with Benja at where he is staying with some expats. He is going to cook everyone a big dinner and we are going to watch movies. Josh and I leave around 6.00 PM. We are walking, it gets dark in Tanzania between 6.30-7, so it is still light. I am walking along enjoying the sight of the Indian Ocean, which I have waited my whole life to see. We take a wrong turn, but Josh knows where we are so I feel fine. It is dusk now, about 6.30.

I hear yelling behind me, I turn as three guys come running out of the bushes. Then everything happens really fast. They are on us before I can even think to run or do anything. (And they are Tanzanian, so obviously I would have been outrun immediately.) Two of them grab Josh, around the arms/neck whatever. The third one grabs me. The next thing I know, I am on the ground. I am unsure of how exactly I got there. He is ripping my cloth Iringa bag off me, but I have it crossed over my body. He is yelling obscenities at me in broken English and Kiswahili. I can hear Josh telling them in Kiswahili that we will give them anything, if they don't hurt me. I am pretty sure I am making no sound. I have always wondered what I will do in a situation like this. It is happening so fast though that it is difficult to know what to do. How much do I struggle? There is something unknown about being from different cultures also- I don't know the kind of desperation that they are acting on. About this time, since I am on the ground, I see the Panga (Tanzanian machete) in front of my face. I am not sure how sharp they are but I know they can cause some damage. A few years ago a PCV was in Arusha, she was robbed, and then took a panga to the back of the head. She was hospitalized and had to shave her head and get stitches, but heroically she finished her service. I think about her while I am on the ground. That is the most clear thought I have. Then I hear Josh telling me to give them my bag. So I stop struggling and pull it over my head. Then I watch for a second as my beautiful earthtone Iringa bag goes off into the night inside enclosing the most expensive things I own in my life here: My Peace Corps identification, my mini-med kit, my camera, my cell phone with every number of anyone important in my life on both sides of the world, my Washington Mutual bank card which I have just used to pull out $300 of my hard earned money from home to buy Christmas gifts for my family- that money is also all in there. My Tanzania NBC bank card, as well as about $100 worth of money from that account. And lastly; 2 of my favorite American lip glosses.

I can't think of that stuff now because Josh grabs my hand and yells "Brie, run!" The first thing I can remember saying is begging him not to leave me behind, which was sort of silly because he wasn't going to but fear of being caught again made me scared. We ran into the street which is a stupid thing to do any where but particularly here, but a car stopped for us and we got in. It was a Tanzanian couple who drove us to the police station. In the car, I got a bit hysterical, honestly. I was so focused on my material loss. Josh had had his phone stolen out of his pocket and his shirt had been ripped but apparently these Tanzanians didn't realize that American men keep their wallets in their back pockets because miraculously that was still there. So we still had his PC ID and his money. He is feeling thankful I am okay and we are not going to the hospital. So while I am crying, he is telling me that none of that matters because I am alive, but I don't feel thankful, yet.

We walk into Dar's Central Police Station just in time for the electricity to go out. The officer lights a candle which we do business by. I am afraid of Tanzania's police as they are notoriously corrupt. But this officer is kind and tells me not to cry. I could not be more thankful to be with Josh, who holds it together. So that while I sit crying, mosquitos flocking about me (If I get malaria from this, that is icing on the cake), covered in dirt (From being on the ground), and sweat (You cannot get any hotter in Tanzania than Dar es Salaam), I survey my damage- only some scratches and bruises. Josh files a police report, he calls the PC officer on duty, he calls our Safety and Security personnel at PC (All calls made from the police phone). He makes sure PC will call Benja, who we are sure is worried. Then he gets us a taxi, so we can go home.

We are starving, so we go to Indian food next to our hotel. Throughout the evening I ride on ups and downs. "It is only material possessions." "I am lucky to be okay." " My camera... My phone..." But there is also this anger, like I felt when the guy tried to get in my car in Downtown Portland- "How dare they make me feel fear." It is funny while it was happening I was more worried about my stuff, there was never really a moment I thought anything would happen to me. Josh says that me on the ground was what he was worried about and he didn't think about our stuff and only making sure I wasn't hurt. It is only later I have some Post Traumatic Stress from the situation of having guys with machetes jump on you. Today, I am suddenly afraid of Tanzanian men, which I wasn't before. When they run, move quickly or talk to me, I am scared. It is a difficult thing to be afraid of fifty percent of the country you live in. I haven't gotten six inches away from Josh, which isn't a very sustainable solution as he leaves the country in five days. I hate that I feel like this. I worked so hard to get over any fear or worry over Africans. I believed that they are safe, warm people who are happy to have us here. That night I wanted to go home. I didn't like this country, I didn't like these people. I hate that these men decided to prove Americans fears about Africans right, as I have tried so hard to trust and love them. I cried and cried. Josh reminded my that these men are not my service and maybe they are the reason why we serve to keep kids in school to help people in the developing world have other options besides desperation. We focused on that we are safe, our parents, siblings and partners in the states are safe (as far as we know), the other volunteers we love are safe. We recalled all the Tanzanians who love us, who will be appalled that this happened to us: Juster, Roma, and so many other friends we have in our villages and Njombe. We spent moments appreciating Njombe- it's cool climate, small town atmosphere where we are never harassed and run into someone we know every few feet. This is my service: Njombe, my village and my villagers.

We are now in Moshi. I have no money or way to get it, no ID, no phone, and no camera to photograph Kilimanjaro. I have nothing. I will be back in Dar on Tuesday, where PC will help me figure all this out, where I will buy a new phone. In the meantime- please send me your phone number- brienneblacklidge@gmail.com. I will post my new number once I have it. Please be patient as I put my life back together. I am just a stupid girl who had too many important things together in an African city capital. Never a good idea. So this Thanksgiving, I learn a lesson and I try to remain thankful for my health and the health of those I love.