Where I live getting robbed isn’t a big deal, not really.
It only counts if someone gets raped or killed in the process, otherwise it’s just another day in the city of gold.
I have armed response, two dogs, a wall and bars on every window.
That’s normal here too.
In Manchester, which is apparently the UK’s home invasion capital, 1 in 1 000 people experience a burglary. Every one of them makes it into the newspaper.
In South Africa a woman is 4% more likely to be raped than to be able to read and write her own name. Look online and you’ll see article after article about how crime rates are falling to acceptable levels. How is that acceptable?
It’s not a big deal.
My house was broken into.
Some stuff was stolen.
It’s just stuff.
We’re all okay and we have insurance – so, it’s all good.
Only it isn’t. All good.
My kids are terrified.
The fact that “bad men” watched them sleep has given life to a monster far scarier than the Boogie Man. Mommy can kill the Boogie Man, but she can’t stop the “bad men”.
Next time we might not be so lucky.
Next time they might not let us sleep.
The policemen who came told us that if someone wants to get in, nothing will keep them out. All we can hope to do is slow them down long enough for armed response to arrive.
Armed response took 12 minutes.
A lot can happen in 12 minutes.
I am very grateful to the men and women from the South African Police who came out to my house, took fingerprints, even though we all know it won’t make any difference, and spent an hour helping us upgrade our security.
Most of all I am grateful to the lady who called us the following day to offer counseling services to my children.
Thank you for realizing that just because something happens all the time doesn’t make it normal.
My husband said, “Its our fault. We become too relaxed.”
No, it is not our fault.
Yes, for the last little while we became less scared and starting living like normal people, having a glass of wine before bed sitting outside and watching the stars.
I hate that they stole that simple pleasure from me, it’s something insurance can’t get back.
That simple feeling of being safe in your own home.
My father-in-law spent the war in Dachau and what he said made me step back and evaluate what my life has become.
He said, “The way I am living now? It is worse than it was when the Nazis came.”
I am sick and tired of pretending that is all okay.
It is not f@$cking okay.
It is miles and miles away from okay.