Early in the morning on September 18,
2014, my house in Kabale, Uganda was broken into. It was around 330
am and I had woken up to hear a strange scratching at my door. I then
began to play a little game called 'What is outside? Is it a chicken,
a goat, a cow, rats, or an intruder?” Unfortunately, it was the
latter.
After getting up to investigate, I turned on the lights and waited to see if the disturbance would go away. After a minute of standing in limbo in the living room, I began to walk back towards my room as my kitten puffed up into one of those scary “Halloween Cats” and I knew something was really wrong. Just then, my door creaked open and a Ugandan man in his 40's wearing slacks and a baseball cap entered my house.
“Give me laptop” was the first
thing out of his mouth, just as I began shouting, “Get the fuck
out!” A mini stand off occurred while we both sized each other up.
He stepped forward and shoved me out of his way. Just then I felt as
if I had stabbed myself with 10 epi pens and the adrenaline of the
Hulk was flowing through my body. I assessed the situation. The man
was under 6ft, had no weapon and was heading straight towards a
thieves paradise- my bedroom. Camera, laptop, kindle, iphone, ipod,
money and my passport; if he was lucky, he'd be able to retire.
Luckily, my adrenaline and Hulk-like reflex wasn't going to allow it.
I followed the intruder into my room while screaming for help/
demanding him to leave. He hit me in my head, knocking me to the
ground. A little dizzy, I crab walked towards where my laptop was
charging, unplugged it and handed it over. “Get the fuck out!
Please!” I screamed and pleaded as the thief looked around my room,
grabbed my cheap “Village” cell phone, laptop and ran out.
Luckily, he was there for my things, not me. A few minutes of panic
and phone calls (on my iphone) then ensued as I briefly came undone.
Scary stuff. During the panic, my neighbors began to react and ran
around the compound with machetes and sticks searching for the
intruder.
In the intruder's panic, he dropped his
cell phone outside. Sucker.
After an hour of talking with Peace
Corps Security/007 Fred and waiting for the police, Kabale's finest
finally showed up to assess the break in. After a few victim blaming
comments and lack of empathy, the police brought a dog to sniff out
the intruder's tracks. All the while, my Ugandan coworkers and
neighbors waited with me.
We discovered the intruder had cut the glass of my front door to reach around and unlock it from the outside. While I stood in the living room in limbo, he stood on the other side of the front door, in limbo. Gives me shivers just thinking about it.
The early morning hours after the break-in were eerie and exhausting. It should be noted that Peace Corps reacted very quickly. Country Director Loucine Hayes called me within hours of the break-in and medical and security followed with check ups in the days that followed. My site mate and “Father figure” Carl, came with me to file the police report, opened his house to me, and even took on my annoying cat for over a week. My boyfriend and fellow PCV Matt, was here the next morning (his village is 5 hours away). All I received in the minutes, hours, and days that followed the break in was support. Support from Peace Corps, other volunteers, my community in Uganda, and my friends and family back home. (Thank you)
You may be wondering why I'm writing about this. I know it may be a little morbid for my second blog entry but that's just strange timing, I swear. I'm not writing to envoke sympathy or to scare potential Uganda Peace Corps Volunteers away. I'm also not writing this to paint a big and scary picture of my life in Africa. This is one isolated incident that happened to me and could have happened anywhere in the world.
To me this experience is about power. The power of adrenaline, the power of an individual and the power of community support. I'm writing and sharing the details of this story because I think its important for people to hear. It's important for my friends and family to understand that although this is terrifying, I'm ok. Oftentimes when traumatic events happen, we don't talk about or share them. We simply want them to go away. I want people to know the details of the break-in so they can visualize the power of adrenaline and what one is capable of when they are faced with fear, to understand the love and support a close-knit community can offer, and explain why an incident like this is not scaring me away from my work in Kabale, Uganda. It is frustrating to be over here, volunteering my time and possibly being targeted for having money because of my skin color. But to those thieves and criminals who make Ugandans look bad, Screw You! You are not ruining my African adventure and you are not undoing the work I've put in and will continue with.
In an e-mail I received from Anita, the owner of Mpambara-Cox Foundation in Uganda, she stated, “These things have a way of dimming the spirit but we pray you will overcome”.She even offered to let me borrow a laptop in the meantime. I have been asked not to abandon the great work I've been doing in Uganda and the Headmaster of my school even pleaded with Peace Corps Security not to take me away. I can't walk down the street without hearing someone say "Sorry, sorry" and it makes me smile.It's these words of affirmation and support that keep me here, continuing my work, and staying in my house (which now has two padlocks and a bedside machete.)The investigation on the break in will continue and I'm sure dealing with insurance on the laptop will be a hassle but if that's my biggest hang-up from all of this, I'm grateful.
Shit happens but we all know what grows from shit. Flowers. It's all about perspective.
