The day things went in the shitter. Looking back
on it now the whole event feels more like a hazy movie that I am watching at an
old run down movie theater; it seems so surreal that I have a hard time
believing that the events that occurred on June 14th actually
happened, but unfortunately they did.
Due to the derailment adventure on Tazara, the
train did not arrive at the station in Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania until around
midnight. Myself and another fellow traveller climb into a taxi and ask to be
taken to the YMCA guest house, unfortunately the taxi driver and his friends
had other plans. Bear with me because this is where time loses all meaning and
my memory returns in short flashes of adrenaline. Adrenaline is a funny drug. I
can remember noticing everything about that night. I can remember noticing the
drivers face and his friends odd mannerisms; I can remember noticing his shoes
and the smell in the car; I remember noticing all of the tiniest details, but
the odd thing is that I do not actually remember any of it, just that I
remember that I noticed them.
Anyways,
enough of the cloak and dagger mystery, many of you already know what happened
and I am sure the other can guest. The driver drove us down a dark ally and
four other guys jumped in and demanded our money, debit and credit cards, and
the pin numbers. There was a lot of shouting, mainly at each other; I don’t
think that they had had much practice at this. I do remember one guy was
playing the bad guy and his friend was the good guy; I remember thinking “so
this actually happens in real life, people get robbed and people actually use
the good guy bad guy technique.” It’s not just for the movies folks. I did not
cry or scream or panic; I can recall feeling surprisingly calm and somewhere in
the back of my head I recalled an episode of Grey’s Anatomy (yes I am a bit
embarrassed by this fact), where someone mentions that high jackers/kidnappers
are less likely to harm you if they know more about you. So cue the verbal
vomit. I started talking about my sisters and my family and how much I loved
them, I talked about how I was volunteering as a nurse; I asked them about
their families, and where they were from, and what they did for a living. Hind
sight that last question was a bit obvious and redundant. I am not quite sure
how long we were in the car, best guess about 45 minutes. The robbers gave us
50,000 shilling (about 30 USD) and dropped us off at a hotel.
As I am writing this the whole ordeal sounds
completely horrifying and I can hardly believe that it happened to me, but I am
virtually unharmed, still happy, still loving Africa, but a few dollars
lighter. Granted I am writing this two weeks after this happened so I have had
plenty of time to process the event. I
am still a little weary of taxis, my threshold for suspicion in much lower and
my heart has a tendency to race at slight provocation, but I have faith that
this will begin to lessen with time. On the bright side I can now wear an
official world traveller badge, because I have survived a kidnapping and
robbing (although I don’t think this provides any consolation to my family or
friends, but I promise I am okay)!