Long delay….I know. I am going to update you first on my sad current situation and then go backwards. Stay tuned this week as there should be a lot of posts.
October 28, 2009, 3pm. I felt at peace, I felt proud, I just plain felt good. Earlier that morning, the ten best student businesses from the Granada and Rivas departments (states) competed for the right to prizes and a ticket to the national business plan competition in Managua. I had spent the previous month planning for this day, meeting with the students to review their business plans, walking the streets trying to raise money, calling judges, etc, etc. The regional competition along with the school competitions had occupied the majority of my time and mental efforts. But now I was back at my house, eating some hummus, and reflecting on the day, what went right, what could have been better. School would be ending in less than a month and freedom was just around the corner. Life was good. Actually, now that I think about it, life was great. I would even say that it the high point, the pinnacle of my Peace Corps service.
I had just planned a big time, successful event; classes were ending soon; the little kids’ basketball season ended smoothly; my relationship with Regina was great; I had spent a wonderful week in the United States with my friends and family; I had found a great work, social, personal balance and was very much looking forward to a strong, exciting finish to my Peace Corps service.
October 30, 2009, 7am. The high point of my Peace Corps service crashed as if it was the New York Stock Exchange of 2008. I arose from my bed noticing that there seemed to more light in my house that to what I was accostumed. I noticed the front door, slightly ajar, then as my eyes dashed around the room, I noticed that my bike was no longer there. My heart sunk, it couldn’t be. My fingers were crossed as I swung around to see if anything else was missing. The television, gone. My laptop, gone. I moved closer to my bed. Cell phones, ipod, no longer there. Fuck. This cannot be happening. I walked outside to notice the lock on my outside door was no longer there, taken with everything else, and as calmly as possible knocked on my neighbors’ door. Me robaron todo. I was robbed. My neighbor, the matriarch of the family, Wilma, could not believe it. That made two of us.
How did I sleep through this?!? I always thought if someone entered my house, I would wake up. They broke the lock, jimmied open the door, took almost all of my valuables, were literally one foot away from my bed, and I just slept peacefully through it all. Apparently neither did either of my neighbors who share walls with me. Obviously, these guys were good and had planned this robbery for some time. Still I felt terrible, sad, and upset.
As I took a look around my house one last time before heading to the police station, I noticed a little black sliver sticking out from under some of my books. My wallet! They did not find my wallet! I then remembered I needed to check for my passport, and luckily, it was also there along with my camara and a few other valuables safely hidden from eyesight. It felt like a lucky break amidst a sea of unluckiness.
So instead of heading to Masatepe to visit my host family, share stories and hugs with them, give them presents and Halloween candy, I found myself making the shameful walk to the police station around 730am. I met with an officer and began to make an inventory of all that was lost, realizing that they were just interested in the material items.
At this point, I was surprisingly calm (or not that surprisingly for those that know me) as I walked some investigators back to my house, only 2 and a half blocks away. They looked around, again took inventory of what was taken, and tried to look for fingerprints. We sat down around my table and they asked me some more questions and then called me a yanqui (an ignorant and/or derogatory term used for United Statesmen) after learning I was from the US. I explained to them that I was not in any way or form a yanqui and that in fact I was from the South. This led to a further explanation of the civil war, yankee doodle dandy, and why you shouldn’t call United Statesmen yanquis. Did the cops appreciate this lesson in history? Not too sure but they did appreciate the donuts I got for them. Then after the cops made some sexist comments and lowered their level of professionalism, I realized that this was going to be a very frustrating process.
After they left, I realized that even more was stolen from my house. A pair of pants was stolen that was bedside (obviously with the intent of finding my wallet), two pairs of athletic shoes (both on the point of being thrown out anyway), and an orange towel (that they must have used to cover up fingerprints, footprints, etc). I do congratulate the thieves on taking the remote control for the tv. They can at least watch in peace. I mean not even they deserve to have to get up to change the channels, no one does.
So at this point, I decided to act. I went to the company that manages the house I rent and told them what happened and that I needed more secure doors and the locks changed asap. Then I went to Claro and Movistar (the two cell phone operators here) in order to block my numbers. But first, smartly, I asked them to see if any calls were made from my stolen phones that morning. Sure enough, in the first big break of the case, the thieves used my Movistar cell phone to make around ten calls to three distinct numbers, one being the most frequently called. How stupid can you be to use a stolen cell phone?!? Thank you ladrones, thieves.
I took this list to the police trusting that they would be able to locate and identify the people behind these cell phone numbers in order to solve the case. Of course I also made a copy for myself should the police not do their job (as is the norm here).
November 4, 2009, 11am. As I write to you, the police still have not taken a single step in solving what should be an open and shut case. They literally have the best clue of all write in front of them and they have not acted on it. I spent this past weekend visiting the police station, buying new cell phones, getting new doors and locks, and going through the headaches that will be my life for the next few weeks. On Monday, I went to the Peace Corps office in Managua to see if with the help of our director of security, we could help speed up the process with the police. Julio, the director of security, has been very helpful up to this point and we made a lot of calls finally ending with the police chief in Granada agreeing to meet with me. I went to meet with him yesterday and now that he knows about the case, I am expecting results in the next day or two. If not, it will be time to take the law into my own hands.
So what does it feel like to have your house robbed while you are sleeping? Well, it does not feel good. I have not slept well the past few nights, waking up in the middle of the night and listening for every single creak, footstep, and sound. I have replayed in my mind the thieves standing right there beside me while I slept. I have realized that I am lucky not to have woken up during the robbery. The biggest thing lost in all of this is not measured in dollars lost; it is my peace of mind, belonging, and security.
So what’s the silver lining? Well, I had always wanted to live a minimalist lifestyle and I am now way closer to this. Also, I know that if needed, I could take out my credit card and replace all that was physically stolen it less than a day. Things are just things. I realized how sad it is for a poor person to have something stolen from them, knowing that it cannot be replaced. I have also realized that my neighbors do actually care about what happened to me, and understand that this means their houses and properties are less secure.
I also now know that if I want to continue living in poorer parts of the world, that my status of a foreigner will always and forever make me a target, and that I need to take proper precautions in order to protect my house, my things, and my peace of mind.
I went from a Peace Corps high to a Peace Corps low, all in the span of less than 48 hours. But no worries, I will be even stronger now from this experience and will continue to roll with the punches life throws my way BUT always remembering to know when to hit back.
