Last night I cycled back to my hostel at just after
midnight. I greeted Joshua, our Congolese security guard and parked my bike. Joshua
was seated outside on the veranda, 2 jackets on, hood up, scarf around his lower
face only leaving his eyes and the top of his nose visible. We greeted each
other usual way – bumping fists then returing them to our hearts – a greeting I
had just recently learned, but already really love.
I grabbed a plastic chair next to Joshua and we both sat
facing the gate and street. I had only made small talk with Joshua before, but
last night we sat chatting for an hour. He told me about the Congo, about life
in Cape Town, and about the different nationalities doing different jobs in
Cape Town - the Congolese: security, Zimbabweans: taxi drivers and waiters,
Mozambicans: construction, and the Nigerians: drugs.
It was fascinating listening to big Joshua, a former
soldier, talk in his low, soft, French-accented voice about the crime that happens
in this neighbourhood. With his baton sitting on the table within reach and
pepper spray in his pocket; he mostly kept his eyes fixed on the gate and
street as we talked.
We talked about the weather, and the misused wealth of the
Congo and about my home town and the ocean and the mountains. As we chatted and
shared stories, a staggering guest came through the gate – Chris, a rock
climber and MMA fighter I had gotten to know in the bar. Chris told us he’s
lost his room key somewhere and grabs some beer from his car boot to share with
us. Bruno at night reception got him another key and he went to bed.
Before I’ve even finished my beer, another staggering guest
came through the gate. Andy, a tall but young lad from southern England. I had also
spoken to across the bar several times. Andy is very likeable – polite and
unassuming, and he reminded me a lot of one of my close friend from university
long ago - Owen. I greeted him and he returned my good evening, but seemed out
of breath and out of sorts. In fact Andy looked like he had been crying or
fighting. I asked how his night was and he replied “average”, patted my
shoulder, and walked past. I called after him if he was ok and he said yeah.
Joshua and I looked at each other thinking the same thing –
he’s just been robbed. So I went up the stairs and found him in the bathroom
washing his arm. He was clearly very emotional, so I gave him space, but asked
him to show me his arm. He was cut in five places, so I told him to come down to
reception and let me clean it properly.
Bruno showed me where the first aid kit was and I dressed
Andy’s arm and asked him what happened. Two guys at the bottom of the street
had tried to rob him, but he had run away. They didn’t get his phone or wallet,
but he had ended up with these cuts. The muggers had knives, but Andy couldn’t
remember how exactly he had gotten cut, or even if it was during the attempted
mugging. He’d clearly had a few beers..
I felt terrible for him as he was really shaken up. I told
him not to worry too much about it, it happens all the time – which is very
true from what I’ve already seen in my short time in Cape Town. I also asked if
he wanted me to call the police or get him to a clinic. He said no, he just
wanted to go to bed. I was worried about infection or something more sinister
and told him to come speak to reception again in the morning when he was sober
and feeling better.
I chatted to Franko and Joshua, neither of whom seemed the
least bit surprised by any of this. Joshua did however seem angered and both
reiterated the importance of taking a taxi home at night. The hostel I work at
is just a ten minute walk from Long Street (the main tourist party area), so it’s
tempting to walk back instead of getting a cab.
As Joshua and I chatted more, our third staggering guest
returned home. Big Owen a young lad from Dublin had been sensible enough to
take a taxi home, but not sensible enough to save enough money to pay for it. I
lent him 30 rand and hoped he as sober enough to remember it the next day. He
joined us for a bit and told me about his recent volunteering experience in a
township where he was helping kids with sports. After only two weeks he was
robbed twice and tied up and pepper-sprayed in his home. But that’s a whole
other story for another time…
