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Thursday, 24 May 2012

My midnight saga with 5 screaming Cops ...

Back in September last year, my peaceful night was rudely disturbed. It was after 11 pm, when the doorbell began ringing incessantly, and then there was extremely loud pounding at the door. When I looked through the curtains, there were 5 casually dressed men (picture jeans and hoodies) thumping my front door, shouting and yelling that we should open up.

Went to the video entry system on the top floor to try to see them properly. They said they were cops and there had been a robbery in the neighbourhood. I should explain these guys were yelling so loudly I didn't need the door entry system to hear them on our top floor. (How do I know this? The sound on the entry system is broken!!!)

I live in a very safe middle-class 'mainly white' neighbourhood so stuff like that doesn't happen here. They were screaming their commands. Strangely enough, I noticed they were not banging at my neighbours doors. Clearly this wasn't a situation of canvassing the neighbourhood for help. These guys were acting like we were criminals.

I didn't realise that while I was on the top floor, my youngest bro had gone downstaits to look through the curtain and as soon as they saw him, they began SCREAMING "OPEN the DOOR", "COME DOWN NOW". The smart chap said 'no' and went back to the living room on the middle floor. He didn't do anything else because he thought I had decided to ignore them too.

Not knowing this, I went down to the ground floor landing to look through the same large landing window, and honestly, these guys looked like criminals! White, in their 20's, dressed in jeans, hoodies, trainers, they kept screaming to open the door, that they were police etc. Told them calmly that in the absence of any police uniforms, there was no way I was opening my door to FIVE strange men in the middle of the night. Hyped-up, aggressive, really acting like they were high, (guess they were totally pumped up on adrenaline), they kept shoving badges at the window, screaming they were police, alternating between commanding and cajoling me to open the door.

Okay, so do I look stupid? Can't badges be faked?

They finally ran away (they actually ran), extremely angry and het-up to the next street & I saw a BMW drive away. I was tempted to go after them to offer assistance if they really did need help and were real cops. (Yes, that is the effiko good citizen in me!) But common sense kicked in and I decided it would be CRAZY to leave the security of my home.

I did think about ignoring the entire incident and letting it go, but thought if this was new crime tactic used by robbers, to call the real cops to report it. Called 999 & told cops were going to be sent out etc. Then, I got a call 5 mins later from 999 that it had been the Robbery Squad at my door! The poor operator who sounded extremely embarrassed, apologised and said the robbery squad had clearly gone about it the wrong way etc.

Okay. I put up a status on FB as I needed to laugh about it. Bro-in-law called, brother called, son called from Uni, everyone concerned etc. Family support good. Youngest bro & I joked about it. All good. But then I kept waking up all night! Couldn't sleep. I don't get upset easily but I was upset. I was worried they would return. As their noise had clearly woken the neighbours, had nightmare thoughts that neighbours must think we are criminals. Couldn't stop wondering why they came and acted that way in the first place. My mind kept running different ever more horrible scenarios of what would have happened if I had been foolish enough to open the door? *shudder*

Honestly it was like a scene out of a movie!

Oh, by the next day, all my nice middle-class professional neighbours made it clear they now considered us criminals. Normally exchange a quick 'hi 'with the ones next door as we approach our respective front doors. This day, with that wonderful British aplomb, the chap managed to look at the sky, look at the floor, look to the trees - in short, look everywhere but be forced to say hello to my 'criminal self'!!

Decided to call the Police the next morning to ask for an explanation.

I never did get a proper explanation. After my logging in 7 calls over 3 days, speaking to different operators and being told the duty sergent at the station that robbery squad were located would call me, but that never happening, I simply let it go. Just wanted to forget the whole 'experience'.

Cops story as told to me by different operators? The cops believed we had been robbed. I told the operator that was a crock! Did cops now traumatise 'victims' by yelling/pounding their doors?? Then I was told it was believed the robbers were still in the house holding the inhabitants hostage!!!! (I have a sneaky feeling my brother and I had been designated the robbers holding the poor innocent householders hostage!!!!). I politely asked why the cops would have left IF they thought anyone in the house was in danger? Finally, an operator who went through the records said that it was a simple case of the robbery squad going out to the wrong address!

For someone who respects the cops, thinks they do a difficult job, who's brought up her son to respect them and their authority, and who's never even got as much as a speeding ticket, it was an out-of-this-world surreal experience. Ah well, I can laugh about it now! LOL

'Noir & the mysterious case of the 5 screaming Cops' - coming to an IMAX cinema near you!!!!! Want y'all to get the full 3-D experience! Popcorn, Hot dogs, ice-cream and drinks will be served! ;-)


Saturday, 19 May 2012

Why do I write?

Writing can come across as cool and collected. It sometimes sounds like the writer has all the answers. What a crock! Sometimes I write with tears in my eyes - sometimes I write about holding unto GOD even as my fingers slip and ache. I have written a piece where I was crying so hard, I had to keep stopping to scrub the tears away, swipe away the snot running from my nose and peer at the screen through the tiny slits of my swollen eyes (now that definitely was not my most attractive look - giggle). I have also written pieces where I am laughing so much, I lose track of my words. I write about faith when mine is at its lowest ebb. I also write about faith when mine is so pumped up, I could virtually move mountains. I write about losing weight while struggling to lose even a lb. I write about joy when my heart might be heavy. I've written about heart-break when my heart was filled with love. I have written about love when my heart was breaking.

I write. I write to feel better. I write about where I am, I write about where I want to be. I write about who I am, I write about who I want to be. I write to express my deepest desires. I write to plumb my greatest fears. I write to examine my subconscious, lay it bare and see where I am. I write to strip off the veils and masks that I sometimes unknowingly hide behind. I write to discover my weaknesses and strengths, to examine my flaws, beauty and ugliness. I write to stir up my faith. I write to hold unto GOD. I write because there is a burning passion within me that sometimes can only be expressed in the written word. Writing is a journey embarked upon to discover self. I write for myself first, and I am thrilled yet still surprised if anyone else reads it and/or comments upon it.

Sometimes I can write my heart and sometimes the words refuse to come. Sometimes the words are an overwelming flood and at other times a tiny trickle. Sometimes I write from the head but more often I write from my heart.

I write to explore me. I write to express me. My loves come through - GOD, Jesus Christ, my family, football, politics, Africa, weight-loss, relationships, friendships and my sometimes quirky slant on life. I am real when I write - mee is who you see. Sometimes, I struggle to put words down the way I think them. I admire the way other people write and often wish I could write better. I am rarely satisfied with a piece but I've learned to suck it up and just keep writing.

So why do I write? Is w
riting only a journey embarked upon to discover self? I do not know. I simply know that if I want to continue to know me, I must write.