“I need an alarm system in my house, so I know when people are creeping about, these people are freaking me out.” These are the lyrics of “I Just Wanna Live” by Good Charlotte.
When I recently became a victim of crime, this song stuck in my head that entire day. Now, it’s easy to say I could have done this or ask why I didn’t do that. But the truth is, it’s too late, I didn’t have an alarm system and I also don’t have insurance. I mean, why should I? I live in a security complex. I always follow my dad’s advice, who has been a police officer for more than 30 years. “Lock the doors, close the windows”.
I even used some of this knowledge, combined with various facts from criminology which I studied at university, to create a series of articles to warn residents of Mbombela to be vigilant, because crime increases during the warmer months and over the festive season.
But then it happened to me. I went to bed on the night of November 30, after ensuring that all the doors were locked, keys were out of reach, windows and curtains were closed, the lights were off and my bags were packed for work.
That morning when I woke up, on my way to take a shower, I noticed something suspicious in my girlfriend’s room – the light was on. She was visiting her sister in Bethlehem in the Free State, and I knew the light was off during the course of the weekend. “Why would it be on? Was she here, did she throw all her clothes on the bed after she went to gym? No she’s not here. Why are all my bags lying in her room? Did I sleepwalk?” These were just a few of the questions racing through my head while I stood frozen at the door.
I saw all my hard-earned valuable items’ bags on the floor, all emptied out. Not touching anything, and for some reason, as quietly as possible, I stepped out of the house to call the police.
I rang 10111, but there was no answer, so I rang it again, to no avail. I finally got hold of someone. “We will send someone to investigate,” he said.
Thinking that he would know the town he is supposed to protect, I explained my location to him. I thought that “drive on the Kaapsehoop Road, turn left into Enos Mabuza and enter the second complex on your left” would be enough, but it wasn’t.
I had to explain to more than three different officers where I lived, only to be phoned and asked hours later: “I am in Koraalboom, I can’t find your house.”
While I was waiting, I found that the damage was even worse than what I had thought at first. I remembered that at one stage I thought I smelled cigarette smoke, and tried to switch on my bedside lamp, but luckily I was just too tired otherwise this could have ended a lot worse. I just wanted to go outside to have a smoke, but the culprits had stolen my cigarettes as well. The police finally arrived, I gave my statement, they left and promised me that a forensic detective would come and take fingerprints.
So I waited again. They team called shortly after the police left. I explained to them where I lived, and like an American SWAT team, two white Fords sped into my driveway. The one officer left and the other stayed behind. He was WO Magagula and I would like to thank him for his professionalism, his knowledge and making me feel safe again. While giving me hope they would catch the thieves who had violated my privacy, he found a few fingerprints and during the course of that day, I received only good feedback from the police. They sympathetically phoned me to make sure that someone had come to investigate the case, and whether forensics had taken fingerprints. Within minutes I knew who the investigating officer (IO) was, I had my case number and the IO phoned me to tell me that he would do everything in his power to try and catch these guys, and that he would keep me posted on any progress.
This made me feel that there was still a little bit of hope for our justice system.