Smooth Criminals

So, my iPhone was stolen.

Around here, that's usually the end of the story. 

In this case, though, it's the beginning. Thankfully.

One of the first things one learns about Cape Town, unfortunately, is the outstanding crime rate. You quickly train yourself to be incredibly aware of your surroundings. You avoid carrying your laptop with you unless you absolutely need to. You carry a cross-body purse that fastens, if you have one, because they’re the hardest to take or take from. You learn when it’s okay to have your headphones in (leading directly to a valuable item in your pocket) and when it’s not.

Long Street, almost anyone would tell you, is an area that calls for heightened awareness and vigilance. Even during the day, pick pocketing and mugging happens often. One of my roommates has had one camera and one phone stolen very close to the same area. Other roommates have been mugged in similar situations. When you’re on Long Street at night, and when you know how real the threat is, you multiply that vigilance by at least four.

On this particular night, I hadn’t planned on carrying an apartment-warming get-together into the night, so I wasn’t as prepared as I usually would be. I had everything in my zipped-up pockets of the jacket I was wearing. On this night, I did all I could to be as “smart” as possible: I danced – like a fool – with my hands in my pockets, I avoided pulling my phone out when I was in crowded group of people, and I checked often to make sure I had everything.

When we were leaving for home, we paused on Long Street. We were distracted by a friend, and, therefore, became easy targets. Here’s what I remember about the subsequent events:

“Guys, we need to make a move. You’re attracting attention.”
“Everyone, check your pockets NOW.”

“MY PHONE!”

One of our South African friends, a guy named Wanda, had been scoping out the situation from the start. He knew we’d acquired bulls-eye targets, and it turned out that his signals were warranted. As soon as I said my phone was missing, he was on a mission toward a guy who was walking across the middle of the street. After an inaudible exchange, Wanda returned to our huddle. Wagging my iPhone in his hand, shaking his head with a laugh. In South Africa, there’s an expression for that feeling: “Shame.”

Cape Town criminals are smart. Or, if you will, smooth. Afterward, Wanda told us that the pick pocketer will usually hand off the stolen goods to another person, who will calmly walk away from the scene. That’s how he knew to confront the guy crossing the street.

In other cases, people will approach you by complimenting your shoes. They’ll align your foot with their foot to “see if they’d fit,” all the while sliding their hand into your pocket. Another time, I was walking with my hands in my pockets, when a guy on the street put both hands around my arm and slid them down the length of my arm while I shook him loose. If I’d had anything in my hand, it would have become his.

I’ve been extremely fortunate so far. I’ve hardly ever felt in danger, and I’ve only had a couple of run-ins with crime here. I did surrender a camera to Cape Town, but that was by my own fault. Apparently, if you leave a camera on a bathroom sink in a public place, it disappears quickly. Who would’ve thought? And, oh, how could I forget? There was that time someone was spending my money in another country while I taught refugees how to speak English. 

The city’s reputation for high crime rates and danger are real, but certainly not restrictive of one’s enjoyment of Cape Town. Despite pick-pocketing, clever tricks, and bank account fraud, though, this amazing city’s “smooth criminals” haven’t dulled my brilliant experience here. Especially with the help of good friends who can swiftly retrieve your stolen possessions!