A Thief Among Us

February 14, 2008

My phone was stolen. This kind of thing happens all the time in Senegal, but I had made it 5 1/2 months with the same one and was not exactly pleased to have it happen to me 3 weeks before I leave the country. I lost all the phone numbers that I had stored in the phone as well, which makes it a bit difficult to get in touch with anyone. What irks me even more is that I know who the thief is.

My phone was in my purse at work, and a girl I work with took it out of my purse and left with it. We all know it was her, but she refuses to admit it and refuses to give the phone back. She has her own phone, one that is even nicer than the one she stole. My phone was the cheapest kind available in this country. My boss keeps telling me it will turn up. She has pulled the girls (there were 4 of us in the building when it was stolen) together and told them that whoever took the phone has to just leave it somewhere at work and we'll find it, and all will be forgiven. But it has been a day and a half and it hasn't turned up. I talked with the girl and she lied to me and told me she didn't take it, and told me that the situation "touches her heart." She said she would be able to help me in any circumstances, except theft. I asked her to try to explain that, but she simply said the same statement again and added that there was nothing she could do about things that were stolen. I wanted to ring the girl's neck right then and there, but restrained myself.

One of the other girls who was there at the time screamed for about 10 minutes at the girl who took it. The thief just screamed right back. (If anyone gets the opportunity to watch two women yell at each other in Wolof, I recommend they do it; it is an art) Also, the thief has refused to make eye contact with me even when talking to me.

When I got home from work 2 days ago (when it happened) I told my host family what happened. They immediately became furious and started threatening to kill the girl who stole my phone. And they weren't threatening idly like and American would. They were quite serious. Even my little host sister, when I told her what happened, she stood up, faced the direction of where I work, and started yelling in Wolof. When she had finished her little tirade, she looked at me and made hand motions telling me that the girl will die. I remind you that my host sister is only 10 years old.

Yesterday, my boss sent me with one of the girls from work to the police station so that I could file a report. I had accidentally forgot the information for my sim card at home, so we had to stop by and get that. When we stopped by my house, the girl started talking with the father of my host family. They talked very animatedly in Wolof for almost half an hour, the girl retelling the events of what had happened. They then started discussing what they should do to resolve the situation. They decided that they wanted to take the three girls who were at work at the time to a marabou (Muslim leader here in Senegal), so that the marabou could point out the thief and then place a curse on her if she didn't immediately give up the phone… the curse being that she would die in three days. Needless to say, this made me a little uneasy. I wanted to get my phone back, but I'm not exactly a fan of placing curses on people, even thieves. But this shows how big of a deal stealing is here (even though it happens ALL the time; I believe I've mentioned that if a thief is pointed out in a market, everyone in the vicinity rushes the thief and beats them within a few inches of death while the police look on). The idea of going to a marabou intrigued me, but I didn't want to be the reason a curse was placed on someone. Marabous in this country are not exactly people to mess around with. They are the ones with all the power (not the government) and it is not unusual for them to curse people or condemn people to death.

I ended up going to the police station this morning instead of going to the marabou. The police station in itself was an experience. The prisoners were in plain view behind bars in the main room of the building. There were two guys: one whose eyes were yellow and looked quite ill was hardly keeping himself upright by holding onto the bars, and the other who must have been about 18 years old and looked like he was in alright shape. I had to explain what happened to a man who wrote a paragraph about me in a little notebook. The man was very confused by the fact that I had both a first and middle name, and was upset that my parents' names were not on my passport. But now, my name, my parents' names, and the fact that they live in Ada, Michigan is forever on record at the Kaolack Police Department. And, in true Senegalese style, after having the paragraph written we had to wander to the post office where we had to buy a stamp (while greeting everyone along the way), and then return to the police station to put the stamp on an official form and have that form stamped six more times or so by a policeman. I took that form to the cell phone company, who within 20 minutes gave me a new sim card with my own phone number on it. And on the way back home I ended up coughing up another $45 for a new phone.

The police told me to return next week to issue an official complaint so that they can investigate the situation, since everyone knows who the thief is. She will get away with it, because I'm sure she has gotten rid of the phone already. But maybe this will be enough to scare her, because jail time for stealing a cell phone here is 2 years… and the jails in Senegal are horrendous.