WHUMP! WHOMP! FHRUMPH!!

This was supposed to be a blog posting on our most recent travel experience to Durban, South Africa. I was going to title it something like: "Curry Me A Favor: Durban's Curried Experience." But not now...somehow events surrounding our arrival back from the KwaZulu-Natal mini-vacation have moved to the forefront and taken precedence over curried lamb with rice.

Some strange circumstances surround how our personal affects back home were violated while we were in/around Durban. I'm referring to items at our DeVilliers Avenue residence. Things are "missing." That's missing, as in stolen. Yep, how about ALL my dress shoes...the ones I wear to school. Teachers need good dress shoes; they kind of look nice with sports coats, suits, etc. No more. Six pair of my Cole-Haan, size 13 dress shoes have taken a "walk." And a nice pair of tennis shoes to boot (yeah, yeah...I'm playing with words, right?).

This is NOT funny to me at all. Shoes are expensive and the Cole-Haan brand is well-known as being "top of the line." That means comfortable, but expensive. Why take only good shoes from my wardrobe? The expensive sports coats and suits were not touched...neither was my silk tie collection. They (him, her, "it"), did not mess with any of my recently purchased ethnic, African artifacts. For that, I say "thanks."

Now, get this...the thieves also lifted my U.S. State Dept. Fulbright-South Africa, blue-canvas briefcase! It was filled with Norkem Park High School papers that were important to me, and me only. The papers, along with the briefcase, are probably in some trash bin as I type these words. Oh, and an airline pilot's, over-sized briefcase from my exchange partner's closet, has also flown away somewhere (probably filled with stuff from the house).

My wife keeps updating her list of missing items. Shoes. Belts. Some clothing. Thank goodness none of her underwear is missing (gulp!). Now she says some jewelry pieces I recently gave her are missing. To make matters even worse, Ivan reports that his lion's claw necklace we gave him for his seventh birthday is also gone. We celebrated his big day at Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe, where I purchased the (expensive) lion's claw, along with a crocodile tooth necklace. The punk thief left the croc tooth...gee, thanks.

Unfortunately, now we know all about the "real" South Africa--the one associated with high crime, corruption, and worse. Needless to say, this is an experience that will will not soon be forgotten. Ivan's lion's claw meant a lot to him...father-to- son thing, you know. Yes, no one was hurt. What was "hurt" was our perception of our experiences here, but we cannot allow something like this to dismantle the good things we have encountered. By all means, this criminal act will not allow us to blame any one group of South African people. It still hurts though, right? And being shoeless is not a comfortable thing for a teacher.

The money is gone. But please tell me what the thief will do with his new "millionaire" status? He/she can take the missing million-plus Zimbabwean dollars to Zimbabwe and buy a double-cheeseburger at the only Wimpy's in town (Victoria Falls). From our brief vacation time there we also know a million Zim dollars can purchase a bowl of carrot soup. Or perhaps it can be used to cart off ten loaves of bread. Enjoy the carbs...

Hey, the thief has our money, our shoes, some brief cases, items of clothing, and other "things." What the scavenger doesn't have is our humaneness. Hell, I would NEVER walk off with ALL of someone's shoes! At the very least, I would leave the fellow at least one pair of shoes. And I would never, ever take a Fulbright-South Africa briefcase. Too personal.

I'm reminded of the poor chap I witnessed being chased down a side street in Durban. There was one helluva commotion: screaming, yelling, etc. The guy was eventually caught and the small crowd of men beat him viciously. He wiggled free, but was immediately downed by a large man with one of those long, thick wooden poles with a large thob on the end. Whump! Whomp! Fhrumph!! The guy lay still on the street, bloodied, gasping for air, and crying like a kid that just got one of those "behind the woodshed" beatings from his father.

I felt sorry for him. Then someone explained that the bloodied mess lying on the street had stolen something from a nearby shop. He also related how this was "street justice", Durban-style. Somehow, I still managed to feel sorry for the guy.

No more. I don't feel sorry for him or ANY thief who violates peoples' lives by stealing from their home. If I could locate the person who took our possessions I would be first in line to administer a few whacks to said person's skull. Whump! Whomp! Fhrumph!! So much for humaneness...