I went through something Jerry Maguire referred to as a pride-swallowing siege, over the course of the past few months. When I moved to Johannesburg 23 months ago, I started renting a loft apartment in the upmarket suburb of Houghton (well, neighboring Houghton, in Orchards). To give you can idea of the level of posh, I was living literally 2-3km from Nelson Mandela's mansion. What happened to me though, beggars belief.
I suppose it started off not happening to me, but to my slumlady (as opposed to slumlord). Due to the worsening economic climate she tried to put her house on the market, failed, raised my rent and then a confluence of events, mostly bad, including a burglary conspired to...well...force her to move out of her own lush lodgings and hire them out. So guess what she did? She started moving into my space. I know what you're thinking. Since she was the owner it was her space after all? Maybe, but then what was I paying for? The priveledge to provide charity to a sqautter? She occupied a sauna space immediately below the loft (placing a board over the saunca and then sleeping on that), and used the garage area I was using as her kitchen and the swimming pool area (er...my area) as her washing up space and lounge. Naturally we were living in closer and closer proximity - a recipe for conflict.
I was preoccupied initially with work and what not, and although we had our occasional run-ins I suppose I hoped/imagined that she was going to find some other place. Because who could live like she was for an extended period? Cooking in one garage, microwaving in another, sneaking into and out of places. Surely she'd tire of this sort of lifestyle, especially given the one she'd been used to...
Noooooooo.
Things got worse and worse. She started coming into my apartment while I was at work and using my refrigerator to store her milk, my kettle to cook tea. Someone said they saw her and her son walking through my place and her getting onto my bed and climbing through one of the windows.
But everything came to a head when my girlfriend moved in with me. The old lady went nuts. She knew her game was up you see. She could no longer have the run of my portion of the proiperty while I was work as she had been doing because my girlfriend would be there. And since I wanted a decent space for us to share, and privacy, I needed the old lady - if was going to persist in squatting - to do so as unobtrusively as possible, and also to startclearing up the growing garbage dump that was once a fairly pleasant swimming pool area.
Of course she was having none of this, and if anything it was me that had to crawl into a corner. Her final response to my letters informing her to quit using the garage as a kitchen was to serve me with an eviction notice. In the middle of the month. She later accused me of damaging her refrigerator, she called the police and the next day I was sitting in a jail cell with a suspected murderer and an alleged car thief.
You can imagine my frustration. And of course, who is anyone going to believe? The poor old lady, or the young man 'with an attitude'? So I began to catalogue the sequence of events, photographing the deteriorating conditions, photographing the swimming-pool-as-laundry area and also asking for legal advice - guess where? On Facebook. I also made YOUTUBE videos and a few friends and people I've never met (not hundreds, a handful) commiserated. There support meant a lot. I showed YOUTUBE videos to the neighboring tenants, and they proved instrumental in providing me with letters which backed me up in my case. And out of Facebook, a lawyer emerged and began to give me advice. This led to me signing a contract with him.
I have since moved out, and of course no deposit was refunded. I am now sueing her with the aid of Facebook-sourced-legal-councel for the rental and the loss of the enjoyment of the space I rented.
But it was really thanks to the lawyer and a few facebook friends that when I went to court after my brief prison term (just an hour in the slammer) I went with a clear idea of what to do. The case was thrown out,and now it is our turn to prosecute for satisfaction of the malicious claims made and other losses.
The support on Facebook made a difference at a time that sometimes felt quite lonely. When you've been in jail co-workers and even friends tends to think you must have done something to deserve it. But in Social Media world, there are always people out there with time and energy to listen or commiserate. Some are whackjobs, someare fruitcakes, but others are genuinely nice people. Recently I met one of these people. My girlfriend and I went with him - a Facebook guy we'd never met other than through this drama - and watched Terminator Salvation together. Then we went for a meal. And we've been hanging out since. He's involved in IT, and quite an interesting character.
I called the series Slum Wars and you can view some of the video footage here. The saga continues but a happy-ish ending is on the cards. The case will go to trial in 6 months. I'll let you know what happens, and by then I may be able to reveal the identity of the person at the root of this nightmare. Now I need social media to clarify if - after a public trial - the details of the case, once concluded, are in the public domain...
Showing posts with label SLUM WARS. Show all posts
Showing posts with label SLUM WARS. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Monday, May 04, 2009
View from my Bicycle [COLUMN]
change of place = change of pace
It's good to have come out of the last 3 weeks, which must be some of the most stressful I've ever experienced. The stress was due to my girlfriend moving in with me, work (including extracuricular work), not being able to train, having my car go in for a major reconditioning - I still don't have it after 2 weeks - and then the Slum Wars.
This weekend I have stumbled across some grissly information - it's gruelling to have to process. This, on an American girl who died in a car wreck, was particularly disturbing. It's odd that as we left our previous residence, we shared a few crime-horror stories with the neighbours. Their story eclipsed mine for the sheer horror of it.
And then there is swine flu to put horror into the appropriate hierarchy.
It is perhaps a quirk of fate that two pandemics (one in the making - still evolving) have one thing in common - the 'Spanish' tag. The Spanish flu in 1918 and then the outbreak in Spanish speaking Mexico, and by no conincidence, the highest infections rates in Europe are guess where - Spain.
It is also interesting to note the use of the term 'evolving virus'. There is perhaps no other lifeform that moves so rapidly in this regard as a virus. Some of the 'leaps' can be quite spectacular and of course, potent. Here we see mutations, adapations, recombinations. Any creationist or religious person who says they are sceptical that evolution actually exist might want to (have their imaginations checked for major wiring faults) and keep tabs on what a pandemic virus does. It moves fast. It changes. It adapts. It seeks to assert itself, to survive in its host. It's an invisible process that manifests as a terrifying reality.
My personal view is that whatever the latest statistics or reports, this has to be a worst case (Phase 6) scenario. It's a recombinant bird, swine and human flu, it's transmissable both between animals and humans and between humans and animals. It is killing young adults in that characteristic malaise - a potentially fatal hyper-response from the human immune system to a brand new virus. The body essentially chokes in a storm similar to what one sees when an allergic person is stung by a bee (anaphalactic shock). It's euphemistically called Acute Respiratory Distress Syndrome (ARDS).
While the media and the government want to forestall a panic, they are also very careful to avoid mentioning what it is like to contract these exotic virusses. There are a few people who have survived the extremes of ARDS. They suffer permanent lung damage to the extent that they are virtually crippled for life, and resemble human skeletons with a great deal of lung scar tissue and impairment to other organs. Some victims (as a documentary on H5N1 in Vietnam showed in 2005) may have trouble walking for the rest of their lives.
Thus the attitude that any sort of pandemic flu can be exaggerated is quite silly. It is similar to your arm being amputated and a doctor saying, "it's just a scratch". No, pandemic flu is a very big deal and it is impossible to overreact to it. Panic though is not helpful.
My prediction is that we will see it resurface in a big way in Southern Hemisphere countries, over the next few weeks, with South Africa and Zimbabwe leading the way. The large Aids population presents a tinderbox for the virus to burn through, and it will be masked initially by seasonal flu (that is, until people start dying). Probably, government will prevent the real data from coming out in order to protect the business opportunities surround the 2009 and 2010 Soccer Tournaments. We will see, up close, the lengths corporations and governments with vested interests will go to in order to protect their interests at the expense of the ordinary citizens.
Already we are seeing Mexico revising it's official death tolls downward. This as the capital became economically paralysed for a week in an attempt to halt the spread of this virus. All in all pandemic flu is likely to open cans of worms around the world. It happens at a time when countries resources are overstretched. It's the ultimate inconvenenient truth, and I'd advise you not to believe everything you hear.
New Setting
In the meantime, my environment has changed a great deal over the past week, and I am happy to say, for the better. I am now perched over the city of Johannesburg is a more secure area, and also one that is substantially more private and connected with nature. The area surrounding our stone cottage is covered in trees, so when the wind blows you get a wonderful sense of calm tranquility as the leaves hush and whisper overhead, like a slowly clapping tall green audience.
This is all a far cry from the nonsense I had to deal with in Orchards. It only occurred to me when I had finally moved everything out, what an unreasonable and frankly unpleasant human being I had been dealing with. For example half of the book shelf in my apartment was filled with her encyclopedias and it had not occurred to me to ask her to remove them. Why not? Because I was preoccupied with a myriad other invasions - invasions of space (her squatting downstairs), privacy, false accusations and hissy fits around the clock - including cutting off power to my apartment and turning off the geyser when I went away for a weekend (but forgetting to turn it back on once I'd returned). Coming back to find her car parked in my garage, or cooking dinner in the garage.
It is good to put all that behind me, though there is one outstanding issue and that is the deposit. As you can imagine, a woman with the manners outlined above, it's not difficult to see that she would also try to malign her way out of the deposit.
The above picture was taken recently just prior to the evacuation.
This was the view from my bedroom window (though you had to stand on the bed to see it.) Compare it to those below.
We have a fireplace downstairs which means the whole place can be warmed in winter to a cozy temperature so that you can walk around in a long-sleeve shirt at the most. Great to lounge in front of the little fireplace with a good book and a glass of wine.
We also had our first guess last night. Saskia, a neighbour, came over and between the three of us we polished off 2 bottles of red wine. I'm looking forward to happier days and hopefully we can say, "At least we have our health."
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
SLUM WARS - The Quest for Justice
On Friday the 17th of April I received a letter from the Slumlord's attorney which amounted to a lot of waffle. My client denies this and my client has given notice and my client is a royal pain in the neck.
Here follow a few extracts from my letter in response:
The above white post it demonstrates the schizophrenic attitude of the police. You have one incompetent officer trying to make a false accusation stick while another offers useful advice on how to defend oneself under these circumstances. Written in Afrikaans it suggests:
1) Point out that a warning statement was taken on the 14th of April
2) An arrest was issued on the 16th.
3) Another case (intimidation) was opened on the 16th
4) Case centres around the fact that the slumlord has been using the garage as a kitchen, swimming pool area as a laundry and otherwise has no official residence but is essentially squatting in the same premises she is renting.
5) Mention you are hiring a space she is squatting in.
Our friend at the station also provided us with a map with the magistrate's court and the prosecutor gave us verbal instructions on how and where to go to fill in documents to sue for our deposit (the corner of Fox and Ntembe streets).
Today (21 April) I received a call from Mr Diedericks at the Gauteng Rental Housing Tribunal who indicated he was going to prosecute this case (for free) on my behalf.
When I arrived home today my girlfriend said the slumlord had been messing about in the garage. One of the reasons I removed the fridge and other kitchen apparatus was to discourage her from moving between my vehicle and her piles of garbage several times a day. I have no idea what she was doing in the garage but sent her a stern SMS (the umpteenth warning) to stay out of space that we are paying for.
I understand what prompted her to go into the garage. My car is in for repairs and I have been using my girlfriends car, so with the garage empty it creates the impression no one is home. My girlfriend though is home, but as usual the slumlord considers it her right and her business to sniff around wherever she wants whenever she wants, no matter how often she is warned.
I also found, upon returning home, a pile of boxes dumped in front of my garage, effectively obstructing me from driving into the garage. Once again the slumlord's behaviour defies explanation.
What remains for the last 9 days of April is to see whether she will pay the deposit voluntarily. My guess is that she will not.
1) Because she cannot - because she has no money
2) Because she is going to try to play dumb and pretend it was never paid
3) She may be buying time to pay the deposit back using the other rental income she receives to do so.
4) However if she relies on the latter she runs the risk of the property being occupied for another month due to her failure to honor her side of it (refunding of the deposit which gives the tenant an opportunity to seek alternative accomodation and 1 calendar month's notice - for the same reason).
The next few days ought to be interesting. As it stands the slumlord has been spending a few days sleeping here and then a few days imposing on the charity of others. She tries to hide her vehicle down the road when she is here which confirms that she is trying to sneak around and is generally up to mischief. Stay tuned for more episodes from the Twilight Zone of Suburbia's Most Rotten Neighbors.
Here follow a few extracts from my letter in response:
Thank you for your letter which acknowledges the dispute between the tenant (X) and the landlord (Y).
Thank you for acknowledging that a lease agreement does in fact exist between both parties, and that reasonable conditions can be applied to both parties in terms of the common law and common law tests i.t.o. ‘the reasonable man’.
Thank you for acknowledging that a lease is terminable based on one month’s notice.
I do however note that in your letter no mention is made of the deposit paid in July 2007, a figure matching the rental figure requested by the landlord (R3500). This amount was deposited into the landlord’s account.
While the landlord did not issue a receipt for this transaction, neither did she issue receipts for rent paid over the past 21 months (your letter incorrectly stipulates the agreement being 18 months in duration up until the current date). Since no receipts for each month’s rent were provided, does this mean that no rent was paid for 21 months?
Your letter also refers incorrectly to ‘two undated communications’. In fact the first letter of demand was dated
This letter serves to indicate the following:
1) That the landlady is liable, at a minimum, for a deposit paid in July 2007, to the value of R3500.
2) That the landlady was informed to repay the deposit (by SMS) on
3) That the landlord has not admitted any liability or preparedness to pay the deposit back.
In addition:
4) The landlady is liable for damages, including – through her continued occupation of the garage, swimming pool area (for washing) and repeated intrusions – and for allegations made against me which required me to miss several days from work and the stress and damage this caused to my mental state. This amount is set as R1000 per month x 12 and R5000 for the most recent accusations = R17 000.
5) Furthermore the landlady was asked on several occasions to provide a utility bill or contract in order to register my car in
6) Furthermore locks (3 sets) have had to be fitted to prevent further illegal accessing of the premises. [R500]
7) The total amount owing is R22 500.
The above white post it demonstrates the schizophrenic attitude of the police. You have one incompetent officer trying to make a false accusation stick while another offers useful advice on how to defend oneself under these circumstances. Written in Afrikaans it suggests:
1) Point out that a warning statement was taken on the 14th of April
2) An arrest was issued on the 16th.
3) Another case (intimidation) was opened on the 16th
4) Case centres around the fact that the slumlord has been using the garage as a kitchen, swimming pool area as a laundry and otherwise has no official residence but is essentially squatting in the same premises she is renting.
5) Mention you are hiring a space she is squatting in.
Our friend at the station also provided us with a map with the magistrate's court and the prosecutor gave us verbal instructions on how and where to go to fill in documents to sue for our deposit (the corner of Fox and Ntembe streets).
Today (21 April) I received a call from Mr Diedericks at the Gauteng Rental Housing Tribunal who indicated he was going to prosecute this case (for free) on my behalf.
When I arrived home today my girlfriend said the slumlord had been messing about in the garage. One of the reasons I removed the fridge and other kitchen apparatus was to discourage her from moving between my vehicle and her piles of garbage several times a day. I have no idea what she was doing in the garage but sent her a stern SMS (the umpteenth warning) to stay out of space that we are paying for.
I understand what prompted her to go into the garage. My car is in for repairs and I have been using my girlfriends car, so with the garage empty it creates the impression no one is home. My girlfriend though is home, but as usual the slumlord considers it her right and her business to sniff around wherever she wants whenever she wants, no matter how often she is warned.
I also found, upon returning home, a pile of boxes dumped in front of my garage, effectively obstructing me from driving into the garage. Once again the slumlord's behaviour defies explanation.
What remains for the last 9 days of April is to see whether she will pay the deposit voluntarily. My guess is that she will not.
1) Because she cannot - because she has no money
2) Because she is going to try to play dumb and pretend it was never paid
3) She may be buying time to pay the deposit back using the other rental income she receives to do so.
4) However if she relies on the latter she runs the risk of the property being occupied for another month due to her failure to honor her side of it (refunding of the deposit which gives the tenant an opportunity to seek alternative accomodation and 1 calendar month's notice - for the same reason).
The next few days ought to be interesting. As it stands the slumlord has been spending a few days sleeping here and then a few days imposing on the charity of others. She tries to hide her vehicle down the road when she is here which confirms that she is trying to sneak around and is generally up to mischief. Stay tuned for more episodes from the Twilight Zone of Suburbia's Most Rotten Neighbors.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
SLUM WARS - Turning Point
On Friday the 17th of April, exactly a week after having been issued with 'Final Notice' I drove to the magistrate's court in Hillbrow. This was to be my first appearance ever in a court room and I was actually looking forward to it (thinking it must be a rational, intellectual process with reasonable and logical tests etc). We left at around 8am driving along Louis Botha most of the way. I don't often venture into the Johannesburg CBD - I find it a pretty grim place.
We got a little lost but still found the red brick building glowing in the early autumn sun at around 8:30am. A black man seated outside the building wanted to see my documents, and when I asked how long he thought the process would take he confidently said, "All day. You will be here all day."
Thanks to hastily scribbled instructions on a small white square post-it, my girlfriend and I found our way to the prosecutors office. You could immediately see he was a well-meaning fellow but he was taking strain. I quickly introduced myself and the case but he quickly pointed out that the docket had not yet arrived at the court and he could not speak to us until it had arrived and he had a chance to read it.
As had happened the previous day, we waited for the detective to arrive and he finally arrived at close to 9am.
The above picture was taken on the 16th in Norwood just outside the area where non-prisoners are not allowed. The officer was intent on having me arrested and booked.
The officer arrived, as I say, dropped off the docket and immediately left, without so much as a glance at my girlfriend or me. It was very odd that for the duration I had been detained at the police station the previous day, my girlfriend had waited for my release - the officer had not once attempted to take her statement (as the witness I had indicated).
The magistrate took some time to pore over the various dockets on his table, during which time a lawyer, an amenable black fellow that reminded me of Tito Mboweni (a sort of beaming face). I asked the man whether he enjoyed his job (since I had studied law for a year and had been tested at university and told I had an aptitude for the law). He told us it involved a huge amount of reading and that one had to stick, rigidly, to previous case material. He said the law was not very flexible, but at least you knew where you stood with it.
From where we were seated we were faced with the above notice. At about 9:30am the prosecutor called us in and asked me to plead my case (not in a courtroom, in his office). I provided him with a few documents and photographs. He read these in silence for about 5 minutes. He then asked if he could make copies of the documents. And then he told us how unprofessionally the investigation had been conducted. He said there was a problem that my girlfriend had not been asked for a statement, nor the other tenants on the property. Worst of all he said there was no basis for the accusation seeing as though there were no eyewitnesses. "Not even the woman making the charge against you saw what she alleges you did. She admits not even being there. Even the guard did not see you damage anything." He told us he would ask the detective to complete the investigation (on 20 April he still has not attempted to get a statement from my girlfriend).
And, he said, he was striking the docket off the roll (both the accusation of malicious damage and the even more incomplete docket averring intimidation)and that we were free to go immediately.
I told him that I found it troubling that a mere accusation could result in the experience I had endured the day before - jail time. He said that unfortunately the legal process was not perfect but acknowledged that we had cause to claim for harassment (both against the slum lord and the police).
I told him that the bottom line of this case was that the slum lord was trying to get rid of me and make life so unpleasant that I would run away and not look back (i.o.w voluntarily relinquish my claim to my deposit). He suggested I immediately go to Fox street to fill in documents to sue for my deposit. He also said, as a parting statement 'julle het my innige sympatie'.
I did not go to Fox Street as it was already mid-morning and I needed to get back to work. So much for being there all day. I took a few photos on the walk back to the car.
The magazine article below demonstrates the conditions Americans are facing as the recession deepens. It is likely that more and more people will begin bickering over money and accommodation in the petty style that I have experienced.
On Sunday my girlfriend and I went for a picnic at the war memorial in Johannesburg. We lay a blanket out under a mossy tree and whilst sipping wine and eating chicken wings and cocktail sausages we watched sacred ibis swoop over the lawns and various deer moving about in the zoo compound adjacent to our park. I remarked to my girlfriend how people need to escape man-made environments in order to de-stress, to heal, to rest. That we need to get away from even the environments we choose and make for ourselves. That nature is the ultimate source of creativity, an elixir for the spirit. It was the first time I had picnicked in Johannesburg and it took an hour in jail to release I was too dom to make use of the freedom to do exactly that.
Monday, April 20, 2009
SLUM WARS - Jailtime
On Thursday the 16th I got up believing I'd be going to court, on the understanding that the trip to the police station was simply to follow the officer to the court (since I didn't know where it was).
On Thursday morning Johannesburg suffered a massive power failure
which was a blessing in disguise. The tenant next door asked me to help him manually open his twin garage door, and doing so I noticed the refrigerator and made a cursory comment ['I'm going to court because she claims I broke her fridge']. The tenant said she had been using the fridge, that it was plugged in (and running) and filled with food and he was certain of this, because a stream of milk was flowing on the floor and he opened the fridge to ascertain where the spillage was coming from (a milk sachet).
After he pulled his car out I asked if it was okay if I shot a few pictures.
Interestingly, in photos used as evidence against me the fridge has suddenly grown shelves and the food appears fresh and quite well organised. This is quite distinctive from the fridge used a la slum in my garage where the contents were barely edible to begin with. Ands it shows just how elaborately she had planned her deceit.
What's more you can see the wire at the rear is quite perfectly preserved (the small copper contact points are all intact) - which is not very consistent with her alleging it being ripped violently off the wall.
Notice in the picture above the two new looking shelves (a different shade of white to the rest of the old fridge). Also notice the stain of milk on the garage store and proximity to the plug and the front door (the lady is slumming on the other side of this door in what used to be a sauna room. A board has been placed over the sauna hollow, and a bed placed on top of the board).
The above photo was taken on Thursday the 16th at about 7:45am.
This is a photo of the contents of the refrigerator (note no shelves) taken on 10 April. Notice the decaying lettuce and other items of very little value. (She claimed R1000 for damages).
Above you can see how perfectly preserved the copper points are.
You can also see that this garage is also used as a makeshift kitchen with a microwave positioned just outside the door on top of yet another fridge.
And you can see how much clutter, garbage and mess is in this garage.
After taking these photos my girlfriend and I drove to Norwood Police station and arrived at 07:59am. The detective arrived more than 30 minutes late, and when he arrived said I needed to be arrested and booked. Booked means fingerprinted and allocated a cell.
I reminded him that he had asked me only to meet him at the station so that we could go to court, which he had said over the phone ought to take part of the morning (he implied one or two hours). As such I hadn't even thought to call work to say I'd be late, although I had told them where I was going and might come in a bit later than usual (probably mid-morning).
He kept saying, "No problem" and that we would be busy "the whole day". I then asked him for his exact name and the numbers of the documents he now wanted me to sign. I reminded him that he was now arresting me without ever having read me my rights and having taken a statement from me, and from the slumlord's corroborating witness (a street guard whom I'd asked to watch her fridge) but not from my girlfriend. "No problem."
He refused to give his name and I then demanded to see the station commander. I told him that this was a highly irregular case, since there was no proof that I had broken the law (not even the landlady had witnessed any malicious damage taking place, in fact there were no eye witnesses other than my girlfriend, who had helped me carry the fridge out). That I had been asked to give a statement before being read my writes etc. He calmly urged me to co-operate (allow myself to be arrested). I then stood up and said, "This is bullsh-." The commissioner flew out of his seat and collided against me, screaming a torrent of abuse. 'YOU WERE GOING TO SAY BULLSHIT. WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE...etc.'
This went on for a while, and I later apologised for the word and then reiterated that I had come on the understanding that I was going to court, and the detective was insisting I be booked in a cell. The commander twice urged the officer to just take me to court.
The problem was the detective had no finished the ordinary paperwork on the docket - something he should have done first, and was cramming in now as it had to be done in order that someone be prosecuted.
I then went downstairs and out into a secure courtyard. My girlfriend was frantic at this point, and was trying to arrange a lawyer for my release. We then entered this courtyard where a few guys in orange jumpsuits and prisoners awaiting trial were loitering around.
I was then read my writes and informed that if I needed a lawyer one would be appointed. Also that I was entitled to make a phone call. Then the guy wanted all my details for the docket, and I said, "I reserve the right to remain silent, and I want to see a lawyer."
Although I asked on three or four occasions for a phone call, they said they did not have the code for the phone (the person who did was on leave) so wouldn't be able to call anyone.
Then I was stripped of everything I had; camera, watch, LIVESTRONG band, pen, notebook, money (a R10 note), and body searched for weapons or other objects of value. These were deposited in a blue zipper bag, and carefully accounted for on a piece of paper. On another piece of paper I was booked into a cell.
A guard came to me later with a small post-it and handed it to me. It was written by my girlfriend saying that I should stay calm and my friend had dispatched a lawyer and he was on his way.
I started to worry at this point, and asked the guard who was body searching me, "Will I be safe in there?"
"What do you mean?"
"From sodomy or being beaten up by other prisoners? Is there someone to observe that this won't happen?"
He seemed to find the question amusing.
It is difficult to convey the feeling when one's freedom is being taken away from you. In that moment I was well aware that my entire life could change - in the possibility of this. That I could be beaten, infected with AIDS etc. And having had simple personal items like my LIVESTRONG band removed (something I have probably not removed for months, it was an odd feeling) and my watch gave me a particularly deep sense of an intrusion, a violation of my personal rights and freedoms.
I was told I could have visitors at 3pm and that I could be held for 48 hours. The 48 hours would have ended over the weekend period (since it was a Thursday) meaning I could have been in jail for 4 days).
I went into a small square courtyard, probably 3 metres by three metres. The roof was a metal grill, actually quite pleasant as you see the sky and the sun filtered in. Inside was a 50 year old bearded fellow who said he was a murder suspect, and a younger guy, probably 21, who was dressed in a hospital sheet and had two crutches beside him (his foot was badly swollen). He was in for manslaughter (driving drunk and I believe assaulting a woman with a wheel spanner - alleged).
But I was immediately somewhat relieved because I was sharing a cell with only two other prisoners, one already injured and the other I believed I could handle if there was a confrontation.
I immediately set about making friends and finding information. They asked me what I was in for and I joked, 'Everyone in here is innocent right? I've been accused of malicious damage to property and guess what, I didn't do it.' The one guy had been here for 3 days, the other guy for less but had come directly from hospital where he had been under guard for two months. He said he had never been in jail before, and I believed him. He said he had been drunk, with friends, and they had crashed, and being injured, he had missed the trial.
After about 10 minutes the guard returned and ushered us into a very tight and cramped antechamber in the cell. The beds were here (beds being 5 sets of blankets piled on top of each other, in three separate stacks. Mine was in the middle. Both prisoners lay down - as I say, in very tight quarters. There was a toilet, but no door. The cell was dark and it was impossible to see what was going on inside. While both prisoners lay down I sat on a concrete slab jutting out from the opposite wall.
Having convinced myself that the injured prisoner was probably innocent I started talking to the suspected murderer. The murder suspect was more worrying, but he said he was asked to report to a police station and was then arrested - 'If I was guilty why would I do that?' It wasn't just that statement but the manner in which he spoke, his face and some of his other statements that made me seriously doubt he was guilty of anything worse than not shaving.
I can honestly say I think it is highly unlikely that any of us in that cell, that day, were guilty of anything.
After about an hour in the cell the guard came back, unlocked it and asked for me. Thinking the whole thing had been a scare tactic (which was now over) I said to my companions, "Cheers guys, you'll be in my thoughts."
The guard, who until then I'd taken to be a decent guy, said, "Why do you say that - you'll be back in here. You're not going anywhere."
I then went back into the courtyard where I found large white man talking on the phone. I took him to be the lawyer but it wasn't him. Still, it was a good thing our paths crossed, because he saw me and I saw him. After a few minutes a small guy in white shirt, black shoes and pants carrying what looked like a large suitcase on wheels (the sort of thing you see at airports, especially the business class lounge). The guy said, "I guess you don't recognise me without my (cycling) helmet." I realised then it was Johnny, a lawyer friend of a friend of mine and a guy who had ridden beside me to Sun City some months ago (and fractured ribs in the race the following day).
I have to say, the most disappointing and disgusting experience from this entire episode was about to unfold. Johnny told me that his priority was to get me out of there, immediately. He said we post bail and sort this all out. He suggested my girlfriend (who I later heard he had already spoken to and specifically asked "Can you draw R1000") go and draw money for bail, and spun gems like 'Life's not fair' and "It's not who you are it's who you know.' I tried to slow the guy down, saying, 'Listen, aren't you interested to know what happened? I mean, I'm sure you will have your own opinions but I'm actually innocent here. I'm not posting bail, paying R1000 for something I didn't do. The damages claim is R1000...which makes me - you haven't even asked to see the docket. Why don't you see the docket and check out how fucked up the process has been so far. I've only just been read my rights, at 9:30am today [the 16th] but I gave a statement on the 14th...' I also mentioned that the detective's own superior had instructed him to take me to court and to forget the whole booking/arresting thing. But he had insisted on it.
He - the lawyer - wasn't interested in a word of it. 'I deal with this all the time etc etc.'
He had come with a formula and he didn't want to see me, a person, with a unique set of details. He was very focused on money. He said he would need an additional R1000 to grease the chain, and pull some strings.
He then threatened me, saying he could leave but then I'd be stuck in jail with no one to help me. I told him I was actually prepared to spend the day and night in jail. I wasn't prepared to spend R1000 or R2000. I said we could sue the station and pointed out that I already had a case pending against the pigs of Parys. I imagine he simply saw this as further evidence that I was in trouble with the law or something.
The police then interrupted us, wanting me either to return to my cell or provide some sort of decision.
It was then that the lawyer said, "It seems I'm being dismissed as counsel."
Just then I noticed the detective that had arrested me walking back to the locked grate at the opposite end of the courtyard.
I said to Johnny, "I'm not paying a sent for bail so you can forget that." He started walking off and I called the detective over, saying, "If I let you book me and fingerprint me can we go to court? Today?"
It was then that the other cop, a white cop said, "We can do that and give you a warning to appear in court, then you can go."
The detective said, "I know where you live so if you don't appear we can arrest you."
I said, "I've come here today in order to appear in court, but you arrested me. I have every intention of going to court."
The white officer then volunteered to take my prints and fill in the 'release form' etc. I've had two run ins with the police in about a month, and this guy restored some of my faith in the police. Old school, but he had his priorities in the right place. He said that 'in the old days we were allowed to use our discretion. If it was up to me, you would never have been arrested. But this guy is a new guy.'
He also said something else. 'At 5am this morning we were instructed to make arrests because there have been too few arrests this week. So if there is a docket they want arrests.'
This made complete sense - the other two guys in the cells seemed innocent to me, even a cursory discussion with them (and me) would support this.
Interestingly, while I was being fingerprinted the docket was on the table, and I noticed sellotaped to it was a yellow folder containing Kodak prints. Evidence of my malicious damage. With my heart in my throat I took a risk and quickly looked through them. It was at this point that I noticed the refrigerator with shelves and fresh food packed inside. There were a few other photos, but an idiot could tell you that an old cardboard box or a picture of an old vacuum cleaner (that looks as if it has been dredged out of a sewer) isn't evidence of damage. The thought occurred to me to remove all but one or two of the half dozen or so photos, but it didn't seem necessary to 'tamper' with this excuse for evidence.
A few moments later the white detective returned, signed my 'warning to appear in court' and I then went through the process of being booked out and signing for all my belongings. During this process the injured prisoner was also fingerprinted. I was shocked at the remarks made to him, intended to scare the shit out of him. He was told that all his buddies had signed sworn statements against him (the cop repeatedly asked him if he was going to change his statement). But I remember what he said to me in the cell: 'Why would I be driving my friends car?' The cops also asked him if he had beaten up an old woman with a wheel spanner (this was quite a shocking piece of news) and if he had a criminal record. He said this was his first time in jail. It did appear that he was in a car that may have been hijacked, or a hijacked car crashed into their car. Apparently 6 cars were damaged that night.
I was then released out of the courtyard and went to find my girlfriend. When I arrived my girlfriend said, "You have another charge against you now as well."
"For what?"
"Intimidation."
"Jeepers I can prove I didn't damage her property but how do I defend myself against this?"
She was explaining our circumstances to the white officer who had booked me (fingerprinted me and released me) and he gave us a lot of assistance, from giving direction to the magistrate's court in Hillbrow (I was due to appear first thing Friday. the 17th, the next day). He advised us that both cases (malicious damage to property and the intimidation case) be dealt with simultaneously. He also advised us (on a piece of paper) on who the prosecutor was and to repeat certain facts and items of information we'd provided him with in the course of our discussion (including the statement being taken on the 14th and my being arrested the 16th - earlier that day).
With that we left the station at about 12:30. I contacted my work to let them know I was on my way (it was my first opportunity to do so). But I had a gift with me - the appreciation of my freedom. Something you take for granted until it is taken away.
More episodes of Slum Wars:
1. The mudslinging begins
2. The Farce Continues
On Thursday morning Johannesburg suffered a massive power failure
which was a blessing in disguise. The tenant next door asked me to help him manually open his twin garage door, and doing so I noticed the refrigerator and made a cursory comment ['I'm going to court because she claims I broke her fridge']. The tenant said she had been using the fridge, that it was plugged in (and running) and filled with food and he was certain of this, because a stream of milk was flowing on the floor and he opened the fridge to ascertain where the spillage was coming from (a milk sachet).
After he pulled his car out I asked if it was okay if I shot a few pictures.
Interestingly, in photos used as evidence against me the fridge has suddenly grown shelves and the food appears fresh and quite well organised. This is quite distinctive from the fridge used a la slum in my garage where the contents were barely edible to begin with. Ands it shows just how elaborately she had planned her deceit.
What's more you can see the wire at the rear is quite perfectly preserved (the small copper contact points are all intact) - which is not very consistent with her alleging it being ripped violently off the wall.
Notice in the picture above the two new looking shelves (a different shade of white to the rest of the old fridge). Also notice the stain of milk on the garage store and proximity to the plug and the front door (the lady is slumming on the other side of this door in what used to be a sauna room. A board has been placed over the sauna hollow, and a bed placed on top of the board).
The above photo was taken on Thursday the 16th at about 7:45am.
This is a photo of the contents of the refrigerator (note no shelves) taken on 10 April. Notice the decaying lettuce and other items of very little value. (She claimed R1000 for damages).
Above you can see how perfectly preserved the copper points are.
You can also see that this garage is also used as a makeshift kitchen with a microwave positioned just outside the door on top of yet another fridge.
And you can see how much clutter, garbage and mess is in this garage.
After taking these photos my girlfriend and I drove to Norwood Police station and arrived at 07:59am. The detective arrived more than 30 minutes late, and when he arrived said I needed to be arrested and booked. Booked means fingerprinted and allocated a cell.
I reminded him that he had asked me only to meet him at the station so that we could go to court, which he had said over the phone ought to take part of the morning (he implied one or two hours). As such I hadn't even thought to call work to say I'd be late, although I had told them where I was going and might come in a bit later than usual (probably mid-morning).
He kept saying, "No problem" and that we would be busy "the whole day". I then asked him for his exact name and the numbers of the documents he now wanted me to sign. I reminded him that he was now arresting me without ever having read me my rights and having taken a statement from me, and from the slumlord's corroborating witness (a street guard whom I'd asked to watch her fridge) but not from my girlfriend. "No problem."
He refused to give his name and I then demanded to see the station commander. I told him that this was a highly irregular case, since there was no proof that I had broken the law (not even the landlady had witnessed any malicious damage taking place, in fact there were no eye witnesses other than my girlfriend, who had helped me carry the fridge out). That I had been asked to give a statement before being read my writes etc. He calmly urged me to co-operate (allow myself to be arrested). I then stood up and said, "This is bullsh-." The commissioner flew out of his seat and collided against me, screaming a torrent of abuse. 'YOU WERE GOING TO SAY BULLSHIT. WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE...etc.'
This went on for a while, and I later apologised for the word and then reiterated that I had come on the understanding that I was going to court, and the detective was insisting I be booked in a cell. The commander twice urged the officer to just take me to court.
The problem was the detective had no finished the ordinary paperwork on the docket - something he should have done first, and was cramming in now as it had to be done in order that someone be prosecuted.
I then went downstairs and out into a secure courtyard. My girlfriend was frantic at this point, and was trying to arrange a lawyer for my release. We then entered this courtyard where a few guys in orange jumpsuits and prisoners awaiting trial were loitering around.
I was then read my writes and informed that if I needed a lawyer one would be appointed. Also that I was entitled to make a phone call. Then the guy wanted all my details for the docket, and I said, "I reserve the right to remain silent, and I want to see a lawyer."
Although I asked on three or four occasions for a phone call, they said they did not have the code for the phone (the person who did was on leave) so wouldn't be able to call anyone.
Then I was stripped of everything I had; camera, watch, LIVESTRONG band, pen, notebook, money (a R10 note), and body searched for weapons or other objects of value. These were deposited in a blue zipper bag, and carefully accounted for on a piece of paper. On another piece of paper I was booked into a cell.
A guard came to me later with a small post-it and handed it to me. It was written by my girlfriend saying that I should stay calm and my friend had dispatched a lawyer and he was on his way.
I started to worry at this point, and asked the guard who was body searching me, "Will I be safe in there?"
"What do you mean?"
"From sodomy or being beaten up by other prisoners? Is there someone to observe that this won't happen?"
He seemed to find the question amusing.
It is difficult to convey the feeling when one's freedom is being taken away from you. In that moment I was well aware that my entire life could change - in the possibility of this. That I could be beaten, infected with AIDS etc. And having had simple personal items like my LIVESTRONG band removed (something I have probably not removed for months, it was an odd feeling) and my watch gave me a particularly deep sense of an intrusion, a violation of my personal rights and freedoms.
I was told I could have visitors at 3pm and that I could be held for 48 hours. The 48 hours would have ended over the weekend period (since it was a Thursday) meaning I could have been in jail for 4 days).
I went into a small square courtyard, probably 3 metres by three metres. The roof was a metal grill, actually quite pleasant as you see the sky and the sun filtered in. Inside was a 50 year old bearded fellow who said he was a murder suspect, and a younger guy, probably 21, who was dressed in a hospital sheet and had two crutches beside him (his foot was badly swollen). He was in for manslaughter (driving drunk and I believe assaulting a woman with a wheel spanner - alleged).
But I was immediately somewhat relieved because I was sharing a cell with only two other prisoners, one already injured and the other I believed I could handle if there was a confrontation.
I immediately set about making friends and finding information. They asked me what I was in for and I joked, 'Everyone in here is innocent right? I've been accused of malicious damage to property and guess what, I didn't do it.' The one guy had been here for 3 days, the other guy for less but had come directly from hospital where he had been under guard for two months. He said he had never been in jail before, and I believed him. He said he had been drunk, with friends, and they had crashed, and being injured, he had missed the trial.
After about 10 minutes the guard returned and ushered us into a very tight and cramped antechamber in the cell. The beds were here (beds being 5 sets of blankets piled on top of each other, in three separate stacks. Mine was in the middle. Both prisoners lay down - as I say, in very tight quarters. There was a toilet, but no door. The cell was dark and it was impossible to see what was going on inside. While both prisoners lay down I sat on a concrete slab jutting out from the opposite wall.
Having convinced myself that the injured prisoner was probably innocent I started talking to the suspected murderer. The murder suspect was more worrying, but he said he was asked to report to a police station and was then arrested - 'If I was guilty why would I do that?' It wasn't just that statement but the manner in which he spoke, his face and some of his other statements that made me seriously doubt he was guilty of anything worse than not shaving.
I can honestly say I think it is highly unlikely that any of us in that cell, that day, were guilty of anything.
After about an hour in the cell the guard came back, unlocked it and asked for me. Thinking the whole thing had been a scare tactic (which was now over) I said to my companions, "Cheers guys, you'll be in my thoughts."
The guard, who until then I'd taken to be a decent guy, said, "Why do you say that - you'll be back in here. You're not going anywhere."
I then went back into the courtyard where I found large white man talking on the phone. I took him to be the lawyer but it wasn't him. Still, it was a good thing our paths crossed, because he saw me and I saw him. After a few minutes a small guy in white shirt, black shoes and pants carrying what looked like a large suitcase on wheels (the sort of thing you see at airports, especially the business class lounge). The guy said, "I guess you don't recognise me without my (cycling) helmet." I realised then it was Johnny, a lawyer friend of a friend of mine and a guy who had ridden beside me to Sun City some months ago (and fractured ribs in the race the following day).
I have to say, the most disappointing and disgusting experience from this entire episode was about to unfold. Johnny told me that his priority was to get me out of there, immediately. He said we post bail and sort this all out. He suggested my girlfriend (who I later heard he had already spoken to and specifically asked "Can you draw R1000") go and draw money for bail, and spun gems like 'Life's not fair' and "It's not who you are it's who you know.' I tried to slow the guy down, saying, 'Listen, aren't you interested to know what happened? I mean, I'm sure you will have your own opinions but I'm actually innocent here. I'm not posting bail, paying R1000 for something I didn't do. The damages claim is R1000...which makes me - you haven't even asked to see the docket. Why don't you see the docket and check out how fucked up the process has been so far. I've only just been read my rights, at 9:30am today [the 16th] but I gave a statement on the 14th...' I also mentioned that the detective's own superior had instructed him to take me to court and to forget the whole booking/arresting thing. But he had insisted on it.
He - the lawyer - wasn't interested in a word of it. 'I deal with this all the time etc etc.'
He had come with a formula and he didn't want to see me, a person, with a unique set of details. He was very focused on money. He said he would need an additional R1000 to grease the chain, and pull some strings.
He then threatened me, saying he could leave but then I'd be stuck in jail with no one to help me. I told him I was actually prepared to spend the day and night in jail. I wasn't prepared to spend R1000 or R2000. I said we could sue the station and pointed out that I already had a case pending against the pigs of Parys. I imagine he simply saw this as further evidence that I was in trouble with the law or something.
The police then interrupted us, wanting me either to return to my cell or provide some sort of decision.
It was then that the lawyer said, "It seems I'm being dismissed as counsel."
Just then I noticed the detective that had arrested me walking back to the locked grate at the opposite end of the courtyard.
I said to Johnny, "I'm not paying a sent for bail so you can forget that." He started walking off and I called the detective over, saying, "If I let you book me and fingerprint me can we go to court? Today?"
It was then that the other cop, a white cop said, "We can do that and give you a warning to appear in court, then you can go."
The detective said, "I know where you live so if you don't appear we can arrest you."
I said, "I've come here today in order to appear in court, but you arrested me. I have every intention of going to court."
The white officer then volunteered to take my prints and fill in the 'release form' etc. I've had two run ins with the police in about a month, and this guy restored some of my faith in the police. Old school, but he had his priorities in the right place. He said that 'in the old days we were allowed to use our discretion. If it was up to me, you would never have been arrested. But this guy is a new guy.'
He also said something else. 'At 5am this morning we were instructed to make arrests because there have been too few arrests this week. So if there is a docket they want arrests.'
This made complete sense - the other two guys in the cells seemed innocent to me, even a cursory discussion with them (and me) would support this.
Interestingly, while I was being fingerprinted the docket was on the table, and I noticed sellotaped to it was a yellow folder containing Kodak prints. Evidence of my malicious damage. With my heart in my throat I took a risk and quickly looked through them. It was at this point that I noticed the refrigerator with shelves and fresh food packed inside. There were a few other photos, but an idiot could tell you that an old cardboard box or a picture of an old vacuum cleaner (that looks as if it has been dredged out of a sewer) isn't evidence of damage. The thought occurred to me to remove all but one or two of the half dozen or so photos, but it didn't seem necessary to 'tamper' with this excuse for evidence.
A few moments later the white detective returned, signed my 'warning to appear in court' and I then went through the process of being booked out and signing for all my belongings. During this process the injured prisoner was also fingerprinted. I was shocked at the remarks made to him, intended to scare the shit out of him. He was told that all his buddies had signed sworn statements against him (the cop repeatedly asked him if he was going to change his statement). But I remember what he said to me in the cell: 'Why would I be driving my friends car?' The cops also asked him if he had beaten up an old woman with a wheel spanner (this was quite a shocking piece of news) and if he had a criminal record. He said this was his first time in jail. It did appear that he was in a car that may have been hijacked, or a hijacked car crashed into their car. Apparently 6 cars were damaged that night.
I was then released out of the courtyard and went to find my girlfriend. When I arrived my girlfriend said, "You have another charge against you now as well."
"For what?"
"Intimidation."
"Jeepers I can prove I didn't damage her property but how do I defend myself against this?"
She was explaining our circumstances to the white officer who had booked me (fingerprinted me and released me) and he gave us a lot of assistance, from giving direction to the magistrate's court in Hillbrow (I was due to appear first thing Friday. the 17th, the next day). He advised us that both cases (malicious damage to property and the intimidation case) be dealt with simultaneously. He also advised us (on a piece of paper) on who the prosecutor was and to repeat certain facts and items of information we'd provided him with in the course of our discussion (including the statement being taken on the 14th and my being arrested the 16th - earlier that day).
With that we left the station at about 12:30. I contacted my work to let them know I was on my way (it was my first opportunity to do so). But I had a gift with me - the appreciation of my freedom. Something you take for granted until it is taken away.
More episodes of Slum Wars:
1. The mudslinging begins
2. The Farce Continues
Thursday, August 28, 2008
It's (not so) cool in the pool (Column)
The flu I have been beating off with a stick since last Friday resurged yesterday, so when I arrived home instead of leaving the car outside the garage, I pulled it in. I was kipping comfortably in the early evening and then woke up at about 7pm to watch the news and make supper (a mealie plus some fish fingers and ice cream for dessert).
By 9:30pm I was watching Magnum PI on DVD with most of the lights off. My father called at around 10pm to say he had arrived back from Botswana and Namibia. After a dash of Oprah and a few pages of Eckhard Tolle's A New Earth I tried to sleep.
At around midnight I heard a knocking downstairs at the door. I thought: there is no way I am opening the door for whoever that is (there is a lady who is always begging for lifts, favours or money across the road). Then I heard a man's voice and so opened the window.
"Sorry to bother, but one of the guards saw some guys running out of the house. One guy was carrying a bag. Can I come through and look around?" It was one of the guys from CAP.
I let him through and after several minutes he comes back and says everything seems fine. No sign of breaking and entering.
"Did you speak to the lady?" I ask. I've meanwhile gone to the garage to check our cars. Both there, no broken windows.
"No." And off he goes, shining his torch at the windows. I go upstairs to call her on her cell, meanwhile the landline is ringing with no answer (CAP are calling).
No answer on her cell. It's not even ringing.
I'm not feeling so lekker now, and I'm not referring to the flu. I go downstairs, looking through the kitchen with the CAP guy (lights are on inside). Pull on the door - locked. Go around to her bedroom and she's not there. She could be upstairs, but it's unlikely. The blankets on the bed are pushed up quite high. I go around to the side and see her handbag lying on the floor almost behind the bed.
That's not like her. There's also lots of stuff on the bed - from this angle - that shouldn't be there. I pull on the door and it - unexpectedly - opens. As soon as I am inside I see something is wrong. Pieces of cheese - one with a bite taken out of it - lie on the ground at the door's entrance.
I call her name and immediately hear a faint response. When I reach the door of her bedroom to the passage the downstairs is covered in detritus. I mean each step is covered in clothes and empty boxes. I follow her voice to a steel door with a small key in it. It takes a while to figure out how to open the safe, and when I do, she is inside, her face red and swollen having been bludgeoned a few times. I feel like I want to hug her, She says, "Thanks for rescuing me."
"How long have you been in there?" I ask.
"About two hours. They said they would kill me if I made a noise."
I can't believe how brazen these guys are. Two hours ago I was still awake, talking to my father on the phone.
As she steps out of the safe she says, "They've taken everything."
The guy from CAP is calling all this in, and she asks me to call her daughter (since her phone is gone). The CAP guy asks her if he should order a locksmith (entry was through using a key).
It's not long before we ascertain how this happened. The gardener who left 2 weeks earlier simply gave his key with instructions to three other thugs. Upstairs we find an empty box with the second garage's remote missing. She confirms: "It was him. Only Nkosi knew about this, and knew where it was."
I went back to bed soon after. By 12:55 the next day the police have still not arrived to take fingerprints (almost 13 hours later). I don't know whether the CAP guys co-ordinate their search, but the perpetrators seemed to have been on foot, which means (I realise this morning) I could probably have found them by bicycling around the neighborhood. Sometimes those closest to us, whom we allow into our homes, are our worst enemies. Someone said: "Love all, trust few and do evil to none." Words to live by.
By 9:30pm I was watching Magnum PI on DVD with most of the lights off. My father called at around 10pm to say he had arrived back from Botswana and Namibia. After a dash of Oprah and a few pages of Eckhard Tolle's A New Earth I tried to sleep.
At around midnight I heard a knocking downstairs at the door. I thought: there is no way I am opening the door for whoever that is (there is a lady who is always begging for lifts, favours or money across the road). Then I heard a man's voice and so opened the window.
"Sorry to bother, but one of the guards saw some guys running out of the house. One guy was carrying a bag. Can I come through and look around?" It was one of the guys from CAP.
I let him through and after several minutes he comes back and says everything seems fine. No sign of breaking and entering.
"Did you speak to the lady?" I ask. I've meanwhile gone to the garage to check our cars. Both there, no broken windows.
"No." And off he goes, shining his torch at the windows. I go upstairs to call her on her cell, meanwhile the landline is ringing with no answer (CAP are calling).
No answer on her cell. It's not even ringing.
I'm not feeling so lekker now, and I'm not referring to the flu. I go downstairs, looking through the kitchen with the CAP guy (lights are on inside). Pull on the door - locked. Go around to her bedroom and she's not there. She could be upstairs, but it's unlikely. The blankets on the bed are pushed up quite high. I go around to the side and see her handbag lying on the floor almost behind the bed.
That's not like her. There's also lots of stuff on the bed - from this angle - that shouldn't be there. I pull on the door and it - unexpectedly - opens. As soon as I am inside I see something is wrong. Pieces of cheese - one with a bite taken out of it - lie on the ground at the door's entrance.
I call her name and immediately hear a faint response. When I reach the door of her bedroom to the passage the downstairs is covered in detritus. I mean each step is covered in clothes and empty boxes. I follow her voice to a steel door with a small key in it. It takes a while to figure out how to open the safe, and when I do, she is inside, her face red and swollen having been bludgeoned a few times. I feel like I want to hug her, She says, "Thanks for rescuing me."
"How long have you been in there?" I ask.
"About two hours. They said they would kill me if I made a noise."
I can't believe how brazen these guys are. Two hours ago I was still awake, talking to my father on the phone.
As she steps out of the safe she says, "They've taken everything."
The guy from CAP is calling all this in, and she asks me to call her daughter (since her phone is gone). The CAP guy asks her if he should order a locksmith (entry was through using a key).
It's not long before we ascertain how this happened. The gardener who left 2 weeks earlier simply gave his key with instructions to three other thugs. Upstairs we find an empty box with the second garage's remote missing. She confirms: "It was him. Only Nkosi knew about this, and knew where it was."
I went back to bed soon after. By 12:55 the next day the police have still not arrived to take fingerprints (almost 13 hours later). I don't know whether the CAP guys co-ordinate their search, but the perpetrators seemed to have been on foot, which means (I realise this morning) I could probably have found them by bicycling around the neighborhood. Sometimes those closest to us, whom we allow into our homes, are our worst enemies. Someone said: "Love all, trust few and do evil to none." Words to live by.
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