This story is also about 2 weeks late, I am sorry for that, but it quite a good tale.
I would like to preface this by saying I have been in Morocco 7 1/2 months now and I feel quite comfortable in my surroundings. Basically, I don't feel like a tourist anymore, especially in places I travel to a lot like Agadir, Tiznit and even Sidi Ifni. The problem being that I still look like a tourist with my backpack almost eternally attached to my back and my western clothing. Despite my comfort, I am still a target and sometimes I forget.
A couple of weeks ago I was en route to pick up my friend Jancy from the Airport and had a little bit of extra time so I met Sami, Dave and Steven for some lunch at the English Pub in Agadir. After a pretty disappointing lunch, but good company, I hopped into a petit cab and headed to the Taxi Stand. I talked to the cab driver a little bit, we chatted about some villages in my area and my time in Morocco and before I knew it, we were right in the midst of the chaos of the Agadir Taxi Stand. I have been to this taxi stand a couple of dozen times at least, but I am always overwhelmed by the choas surrounding it. Regardless of the time of day or the weather, there is always hundreds and hundreds of people around. It is insane.
The cab driver pulled over next to where I needed to catch my next cab, I pulled out my wallet, paid him and then put my wallet back into my purse. I then hopped out of the cab and reached back in to grab my backpack. In the 5 steps I took from grabbing my backpack to walking towards the next cab, I looked down and realized my purse looked emptier than it normally did. Instinct, I guess. I immediately realized my wallet was gone and turned around, walked back to the cab and asked the driver if I left my wallet in the cab. At this point, he took off in a flat out sprint. I guess the petit cab driver realized that some man had stolen my wallet and he went after him. I was so confused, I started following him but he was fast and I had my backpack, so I stopped in the middle of this street and just stood there. The people in this chaos realized what had happened and were all looking at me, confused, and looking down the street to the place where my cab driver had taken off running.
As it turns out, in the 2 seconds it took me to grab my backpack from the car, a man had walked up behind me, grabbed my wallet out of my purse and took off. I had no idea it had even happened.
After what seemed like forever, but was only a minute or two, my cab driver returned to the spot in the middle of the street where I was standing, wallet in hand. I was so shocked and confused, I muttered out "do you want some money, thank you, thank you, heres some money" in Tashlheet, but he refused it. He just walked back to his petit cab and drove off. Immedately, these three old Moroccan women come over to me yelling at me for not keeping my purse zipped and not being more careful, I just laughed. I was so overwhelmed that I walked into this little shop just to get out of the street, where everyone was staring at me. I was trying to speak Tash, but I just couldn't, my brain was so confused. Luckily the shop owner spoke English so I explained to him what happened and he was so shocked that the cab driver took off after the thief. I bought a candy bar, he asked me if I needed help finding my cab, I told him I was okay and headed off. I just couldn't get over what had just happened.
In retrospect, I am unbelievably grateful to the cab driver for taking justice into his own hands for a couple of reasons. First, the thought of having to go to the police to file a report makes me want to vomit and cry at the same time and second, I had EVERYTHING in that wallet including my rent money, about 500 additional travel dirhams, my passport, carte de sejour for Morocco and a bunch of contacts I needed. When I first moved to Morocco, I used to break up my money and valuables so that in case something got taken, I would still have some stuff I needed. Over the months I had become lazier with that, opting to just throw everything in one wallet. This is where my "comfort" in country is causing me problems.
What I have since realized is that while I don't feel like a tourist, I still look like one, making me a tourist. No amount of language can stop that.
Ironically enough, on the same day, Jessie was sitting on the train on her way to Rabat and a man got on the train at a stop, stole her IPod out of her hands and got off the train, just in time for the train to pull away. Further proof that we are still targets for petty theft.
The funniest thing is that I would NEVER chase down a thief in America. Why, you might ask, well because in America we have guns, and lots of them. No amount of stuff is worth getting shot. This is not a problem in Morocco so thankfully I had a diligent cab driver who just wanted to do the right thing.
In summary, all I can say is Humdullah! (Thanks be to God).
so glad you got your stuff back!
ReplyDeleteliving in my shady neighborhood in St. Louis, I'm worried about stuff like that all the time. In fact, I sleep with some of the lights on! I'm paranoid though... at least that is what Joe tells me.
I feel like the difference here is, like you said, people have guns (yikes), but also, everything is replacable. If I lose my money or my passport or license or credit card, I just report it stolen. I just ask my parents for help. I'm lucky to have that... Things have become just things for me. When I got my car broken into, it wasn't about the CDs or the disposable camera or the change or the gas cards (none of which were stolen, by the way), but it was the little McDonalds toy that sits on my dash, the Lindbergh tassle hanging in my mirror. The sentimental stuff I was worried about. I don't know... I'm lame.
Your situation is way different though... your money, passport, that stuff is like your LIFELINE. You NEED it. I'm glad that crazy cab driver got it back for you!