My Phone; Picked Right From my Pocket

Last Saturday, I tried to cram myself onto a trotro and for my trouble, got my pocket picked. I lost my camera phone and with it all plans to take pictures and video of my rehearsals. Too bad, the dancers were just getting to be very good, especially the people standing on someone else’s shoulders.

Our caretaker, Joseph upon learning of my phone, thought that I should call the thief and make arrangements to meet with him. I had already called him to offer a “reward,” but he wanted one hundred dollars and help getting to America. Pretty steep price for a phone. Joseph thought that we should round up a few friends, agree to the ransom and go get my phone back.

The next day at rehearsal someone else suggested the same thing. He had a very scary look on his face as he asked me if I could phone the guy and make arrangements to meet.

Here in Accra there is no social rank lower than a thief. People talk about thieves and armed robbers the way Winnipeggers talk about the weather. Everyone has an opinion and to hear it, all you have to do is ask.

Calling someone a thief runs the risk of bringing upon them “Instant Justice.” Often a mob will form when someone yells “thief.” The mob will chase the accused and if they catch him, beat him to death.

There is no shortage of people falsely accused and at least one case that we have heard of where the mob caught a person who had not even been accused. They were saved when the accuser pointed out the mobs error.

I decided to just get a new phone. Kind of a hassle, but in the end I think it’s a lot cheaper than that other option.