My last post about the craziness in Arua in connection with the assassination of the local M.P. did not portray any personal risk. But there are a couple of stories I have held back until now, since I didn’t want people (like my mom) to worry or because of embarrassment. But I want to fully document my experience.
My first encounter with crime happened while I was still in training. At the conclusion to a group shopping trip to Kampala with about six other Peace Corps trainees, we boarded a taxi to return to our training site. I wanted to allow Ndu, a tall Nigerian-American, the front row seat with more leg room. However the taxi conductor insisted I sit in the front. This deference for older white men was common, but in this case, I was probably a considered a more lucrative mark. The man next to me kept reaching across me for the mirror; I was not attentive that he was picking my pocket with his other hand. It’s a common ruse, now with my specific example to cite in future trainings. It was definitely embarrassing. Thieves usually just want cash and we hoped the remaining contents would turn up but they never did. So I lost some family photos, and my Colorado driver’s license. I had to cancel and replace a couple of cards. Ugh.
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As I‘ve said often here, “It’s all part of the adventure!”