We Shall Overcome
- an article
It was Christmas and we'd tired of our usual consumer jaunts.
I suggested to my partner, Rose, that we try the mall in Bedfordview, thinking
it would be a good spot for some shopping after it was recently refurbished.
She agreed, but wasn't really looking forward to the outing and instructed me
to pack Rachel, our 24-month-old baby's nappy bag while she got Rachel ready.
We didn't plan to be out long as my brother was coming over for a braai later
in the afternoon. Rachel loves the malls, the decorations, the people, and the
action. From her stroller, she waves at passers-by like she's the Queen Mother.
The centre was not busy, probably because the renovations were still
incomplete. On the floor below workmen on scaffolding added finishing touches
'twixt frustrated storekeepers. Flashing billboards enticed patrons to
sumptuous cinemas above. We inspected the new modern décor of marble, glass,
chrome and subtle lighting and the frustration of negotiating the building site
of a car park soon faded. We passed an opulent jewellery boutique as we
entered, then spotted the new Exclusive Books a little further on and popped in
for a quick look around.
A crash outside the book store startled us. But at first we didn't know what
was going on. I initially thought it was a sign falling off a wall or a shop
window falling out. Then another enormous crash followed. I turned to the
entrance of the store, and people were running past. Some ducked into the shop
and clearly looked shocked. I pulled Rachel out of her stroller and took Rose
by the arm and we headed for the back of the store. The two of them sat down in
an enclave before I went back out to see what was happening. A young Asian
girl, terrified, was crying a few feet away and Rose told me to bring her into
the enclave.
I went to a nearby coffee shop where people were standing to ask what was going
on. One of the waiters said ''a madman was running around shooting''.
My heart leapt into my throat. Another deafening noise resounded and I ducked
involuntarily. I couldn't think straight, I had to protect my family.
Then I saw him. Just outside the entrance of the jewellery store was a man
cradling an AK-47 gun. I turned to run back to my family when gunshots went off
followed by shattering glass.
I resisted the urge to lay them on the floor and
cover them with my body.
Rose, who was embracing Rachel and the Asian woman, wanted to know what was
going on. I tried to sound calm as I explained gunmen were robbing the
jewellery store. She suggested alternative places of refuge or the possibility
of a different exit. An infinitesimal quiver in her voice belied her plucky
exterior; her only concern was to get our baby to safety.
Incredulously Rachel sat stock still without as much as a whisper, somehow
sensing the seriousness of the situation. Everyone in the book store crouched
behind the shelves and someone shouted for the doors to be shut.
The commotion outside lasted two to three minutes but
it felt like hours. We heard shouting, then saw a few
men chasing the gunmen. Soon we heard shouts that it was clear to come out. The
Asian woman told us she was a tourist who had arrived in the country a few days
before. She was frightened and said she'd heard about the crime in
The trembling hands of the waitress were the only indication something had
taken place. Rose held her hands and asked if she would like to join us; she
declined with half a smile and a tear.
Our tourist lady asked the waitress if she saw what had happened but the sound
of sirens and screeching tyres interrupted. Police poured into the very same
entrance we had used ten minutes earlier. They sealed the area off with crime
scene tape and posted uniformed officers around the jewellers.
In silence we sipped our drinks and watched plain clothes detectives going
about their duties.
An elderly man comforted his distraught wife to the table next to ours. He
looked at us with a wry grin and shrugged his shoulders. He proceeded to tell
us how they were knocked aside by fleeing gunmen in the car park. How
four men armed with automatic rifles tried to smash the safety glass of the
jewellery store without success. They lost their nerve and fled to a nearby
taxi, firing into the air. A passing patrol car immediately gave chase.
I ordered another round of coffee for us all, as each recounted the events.
Somehow it helped, especially since there were no casualties, apart from the
shaken staff from the boutique. We said our goodbyes ensuring our tourist was
okay. She in turn took a photo of Rachel and Rose on her cellular phone and
promised to keep it always.
At the braai that evening we relayed our saga to the family who shook their
heads in dismay before they moved on to other subjects. They digested the
ordeal better than the steaks on the fire. Rose and Rachel have never returned
to the mall although I have popped in and each time the events of that day
flood back.
Every time we plan a trip to a shopping centre we are mindful of our
surroundings and the possibility that it could occur again. But we have our
lives to live in this wonderful country where thugs will not affect the way we
behave or think.
Normality returns far too quickly. It is an indictment of our history and
transformation, when violence no longer shocks and barely disrupts our
Christmas. A reality, which threatens all, unless we condemn it, without
reserve or condition?
James
Tobias
Your comments will be appreciated. Please
take a few moments to submit them here
Please use the
back-button on your browser to return to the submissions page, or click Home
|
Name |
Comment |
Date |
|
Erna |
An all-too-familiar (for South
Africans) story. “Normality returns far too quickly. It is
an indictment of our history and transformation, when violence no longer
shocks and barely disrupts our Christmas.” …
or of the faith, courage or foolhardy determination
of those of us who “stick it out” and are not living in NZ, Oz, the I’d
add in some crime statistics and interviews (à la
Reader’s Digest) to make it an article Points 3 – Very promising |
2008-01-08 |
|
Mandy |
A well-written account of your
dreadful experience. I assume it was real. You held my attention. One comment
- when relating something that happened for real it is very easy to systematically
list the events / facts. What makes it more real for the reader is if you
relate some of the feelings and emotions. Always try to appeal to all the
senses - what did you feel? What did you hear? What did you smell? Points 3 - Very promising piece of writing |
2008-01-26 |
|
James |
Appreciate the umpu
and crits Mandy/Erna. |
2008-01-28 |
|
Erna |
Nope – that’s writing! |
2008-01-28 |
|
Louis |
My brother and two friends are in |
2008-01-29 |
|
James |
A licence to be nosy, dreamy and
unsociable. lol |
2008-01-31 |
|
James |
Thanks Louis |
2008-02-02 |
|
Ron |
I start with, well done. This
story like others you have submitted gets my attention. I read it and think.
"Oh god, not again." I too have been directly and indirectly
affected by crime. Break-ins, car thefts, muggings and unfortunately murder
too have affected my near family. I write now as Ron, not Sir Cess. I'd love
to natter to you and chat about writing. Sorry to
use this a ”personal chat-room" but if you
want you can get my e-mail from Mandy or Erna. Yes! We shall overcome! A
graphic picture painted. Points 3 - Very promising piece of writing |
2008-02-05 |