For my friends, it’s kinda become a running joke. “Don’t get mugged.” This is how they say goodbye to me now.
Truth is, I’ve only been mugged twice in my life (not counting the incident with the Russian prostitutes in Athens – another story for another time). But both muggings were relatively violent and have had a lasting impact. Just yesterday I was walking under the foggy pine trees of the great Northwest when a 40-something jogger quietly ran up right behind me. I nearly jumped 10 feet and was ready to punch her in the face. Obviously, this is no good thing.
The first mugging happened in June, 2001, right after my 21st birthday and right after Peru’s 8.1 earthquake. I was in Arequipa, lying on my stomach and reading at a beautiful hillside park which overlooks Misti volcano. It must have been a weekend because the park was crowded with families on blankets and young couples walking slowly around the outer walkway. All of a sudden I’m being strangled and feel the sharp end of a knife. I lose my credit cards, my camerea, all of my photos of Macchu Picchu.
Second time: Caracas, Venezuela. Gone are my new MacBook, my iPod, iPod shuffle, credit cards, nifty electronic translator, etc. If you’re bored, here’s the story.
But what was most frustrating in both cases is how many people looked on in quiet curiosity while I struggled with my assailants. In Venezuela, after I realized that none of the three were armed, I was determined to not give up without making an effort to get my stuff back. At least 30 people looked on, their heads poking out of storefronts. A small crowd gathered at each end of the alleyway. At first I pleaded for their help. Then I screamed at them for not doing anything.
Finally, a gentle giant over 6’3″ quietly said to the punkass motherfucker who was strangling me, “anda, coño, dejalo,” come on bud, let him go. Even though it was clear that none of these street kids had any kind of weapon, no one was willing to get involved. I lost my faith in all humanity that night.
Same story in Peru. After the two muggers ran off with my stuff, I got up, brushed off the grass and leaves on my clothes and in my hair and felt my neck to make sure I wasn’t bleeding. The 20 or 30 people surrounding me were still looking on. I was the protagonist of their Sunday matinee. I was furious. I felt my blood pressure rising. And so, I went around to every family, every couple, and screamed at them in tear-choked Spanish for not doing anything. A few of the stern-eyed mothers said, “esa gente son de banda,” those guys are in a gang. ‘Me and mines’ – that’s what they were looking out for. They feared retribution. They feared the stigmatization of defending a gringo in front of their own gente. What can you do?
This morning while typing up the weekend GV digest, I felt a special connection with Zheng Shanbing, the 26-year-old sole defender of an older woman who was being robbed on a public bus with over 60 passengers. When Zheng came to her resuce he was beaten badly by the robbers for 7 minutes, during which none of the other 60 passengers on the bus stepped in to defend him. I know exactly how he felt – looking at his onlookers’ vacant eyes as he felt the kicks and punches of his attackers. Both groups became his enemies.
The incident – just the latest in a string in China – has provoked online anger against the frozen bus passengers. But one has to wonder, how many people actually would have stepped in?
In Uganda there is a particular type of mob justice that I think needs to be spread further. Thieves, pickpockets, and assailants are stripped nude. They’re not beaten, their appendages aren’t cut off. They just lose their clothes. Of course, there are lots of examples of this practice going too far. But basically, Kampala feels like a damn safe city. Much safer than Nairobi.
Zheng Shanbing, I am raising my second cup of coffee to you. Today you are my hero. Tomorrow you will be too. And I promise you that the next time I see some innocent person being mugged, I too will step in.
I’ve also been mugged two times, but neither one was in front of anybody else. Both were because of my college job of delivering pizza and both were at gun point.
The first one though, I was able to get out of. My job was lax and would allow me to bring whoever I wanted. Who ever I brought would hang out with me at the store during slow hours and go with me on deliveries. On this trip it was close to store closing and was in a relatively bad neighborhood of my route. As soon as we walked into the apartment complex I had a gun to my neck and another guy, though unarmed, tried to threaten my friend. My friend, seeing that the second guy was unarmed immediately started to fight with him. The guy that had a gun to my neck, seeing that his friend was getting beat up, hesitated, so I hit his arm knocking the gun out and me and him started fighting. It lasted for a bit but when my friends assailant took off running so did mine. It was an adrenalin rush and the cops showed up later…but atleast nothing of ours was robbed. I wasn’t so lucky the second time around.
There you making my mugging stories sound like they happened at a Montessori pre-school. Always gotta make me look like a teddy bear huh? 😉
So, what happened the second time?
No, no, trust me, I can sympathize to your stories of being robbed by unarmed women. It can be terrifying. 😉 j/k!!!
Second time they took my money…but I had already suspected it was going to be a robbery and put the bulk of my money in my sock. So they got away with less than $20. The good news is that they later robbed a Dominoes pizza guy and were caught. Since they also did it at gun point their conviction was harsher. A good ending to the story.
I read “The Tipping Point” not long ago and I’m reminded of Gladwell’s description of a young lady who was chased and eventually murdered, though a dozens of people witnessed the event and did nothing. Everybody assumed someone else would step in. That seems to be a problem in the world’s larger cities: there’s always someone else around, so there’s always the “well, HE could’ve done something too!” excuse.
I’ll match your promise to step in. I’ve taken enough anonymous fists as the friendless new kid to know how it feels when you turn around pleading and everyone else just pretends like nothing happened.
“There are few heroes” could also be your story title. Right now my girlfriend’s brother (Javier) in the hospital near death from three gun shot wounds. Javier was helping a friend who was being beat up by three people. Now Javier’s friend will not even identify or testify against the three gang members who shot Javier. Javier was left in the parking lot of a dance club for 45 minutes before anyone even called the police or dialed 911. I feel disgrace and shame for my own race when I see actions like this.
Unfortunately this type of response is far too common, just read the Los Angeles Times homicide report and see how many times there are many witnesses to a crime and no one comes forward because of fear, lack of empathy or people just don’t give a damn about their fellow human being.
In a recent case in the Westlake area of Los Angeles a month old baby was killed in front of hundreds of witnesses by 18th street gang members and the police receive no help. The same gang members were extorting “taxes” from the poor street vendors and killed the baby while shooting a street vendor who refused to pay. So these low life animals are free on the street because people are too scared to speak. (Can you tell I’m angry?). If the death on an innocent baby will not motivate a person to become a hero, then what in hell would?
Damn, Oso.
I’m comforted by the fact that I’ve never witnessed a robbery, but I think of myself as a proactive/reactive person but never inactive when it comes to helping people out.
Just thinking about these situations makes me feel enraged… I’m hoping the next time I get to be there to help you out, bro.
Since you do seem scarred and in need of understanding why apathy reigns at times in urban areas, I am assigning you some homework:
Stanley Milgram: “The Experience of Living in Cities: A Psychological Analysis.” Science, Vol. 167 (March 13, 1970), pp. 1461-68.
Yes, it is the same Milgram from the infamous obedience and complicity experiments.
There’ll be a quiz on it.
Does this mean you’ll loan me the book when I’m in NYC next week? Cause there’s no way I’m buying a 1,500 page book.
Didn’t you go to college? Someone with a college degree should be able to read a citation! It is not a book, but an article. And yes, I will copy it for you.
Let me know when and where we’ll meet up for frijoles and beer, and I will personally deliver it to you…
That’s one of the things I like BEST about Israel. This would never happen there. People will not stand by and watch, they will be active and break up a quarrel or help out when facing a crime. From young age, Israelis are fed stories of the holocaust – how many people in Europe stood by and didn’t do a thing. And its precisely that, a cultural effect of making sure that never happens again.
But it does freak me out about moving to the states, or while living in China. If something happens, you’re pretty much on your own.