In the Molapo bush
Florence Radull | Wednesday July 23, 2014 15:18
He advises me to leave all my valuables in the car before we quickly leave the Molapo Crossing car park and head in a westerly direction on foot.
We turn off the main road that leads to Mogoditshane and head into the bush behind the mall. In the far distance we hear voices and the unrelenting wind introduces us to a waft of what can only be described as open ablutions.
Not far from the ‘entrance’ to the bush we come across the first evidence of a recent robbery. Personal effects belonging to several innocent victims are strewn about carelessly. An Omang card here, a drivers licence there, bank cards, empty wallets and handbags, flash drives and numerous items that mean nothing to anyone but their owner.
As we play the Good Samaritan and collect some of the belongings my ‘guide’ shakes his head in dismay.
“This is junk to those who stole it but it means something to the people it was stolen from. Where you see only a flash drive, someone is pining for the information saved on those drives,” he says in an angry tone.
When asked about how he knew about ‘the bush’ he narrates how his car was broken into outside the temple opposite Marriott Cafe in Block 6.
“I went for a couple of drinks at one of the bars in that area. The car parks were all full so I decided to park by the temple. There were other cars there so I didn’t feel that my car would be a target but I was so wrong,” he says.
He narrates that when he finally decided to head home he found his car had been broken into and his laptop was missing from the boot.
“I went around asking the security officers at the various establishments if they had seen anything suspicious but I came up empty,” he narrates.
One of the bouncers at one of the clubs called him as he was leaving and pointed him in the direction of the bush but warned him that he would not find his laptop but might recover the bag and its contents and that is exactly what happened.
“I was also warned not to go too deep into the bush and to never carry anything of value if I went there as I would most likely be robbed again if I looked like I was carrying valuables,” he says.
With dried leaves crunching gingerly underfoot and the sun still desperately trying to make its presence felt through the canopy of trees, we press on further into the bush as he finishes his story.
In a clearing on the left we chance upon three women carrying black trash bags and rummaging through the undergrowth.
“Scavengers,” Keabetswe whispers disgustedly and at first I am clueless to his meaning. However, on closer inspection of their activities I realise what I am witnessing. The women are unashamedly going through the belongings of victims whose bags and wallets have been discarded by the initial thieves after they have taken what they desire.
“What are you staring at,” one of the women hisses at me, venom in her voice.
I quickly avert my eyes and pretend to be searching for my own lost documents. As we venture further I feel as if the trees have eyes. The hairs on the back of my neck begin to stand and I quickly decide that I have seen enough.
As we retrace our steps we pretend not to look at the women who are deep in negotiations over a filthy but expensive looking leather handbag that they are in the process of emptying.
The plight of the victims bears heavily on my mind as I know that these women only see a handbag but the owner of the goods is missing, photographs, phones, personal effects and sometimes a lifetime of memories.
“These people don’t think about the lives they are disrupting when they forcibly take other people’s belongings. Forget about the value of the phone or the cash taken, think about the information on the phone, the information lost on laptops, flash drives and cameras, they are priceless,” Keabetswe says angrily echoing my thoughts.
We later drop off the belongings we collected at the Block 6 Police Post where we ask the constable on duty what the police are doing to curb crime in the area as car break-ins, handbag and wallet snatching seem to have become the order of the day.
“We have stepped up patrols in the area especially at night,” says the young constable who only identifies himself as Tshepo.
“We also try and educate the public on how to best take care of their belongings,” he adds.
“We are trying to clear that bush of all the vagabonds that sometimes camp there because we believe that they are the culprits but we have been unsuccessful. We know about the people who go to scavenge in the bush for other peoples discarded belongings but anytime we meet them they claim they are going to the church in that area. We can’t prove them wrong so it’s hard to arrest them,” he laments.
He is slightly alarmed that we had visited the Molapo bush and as we leave he advises us against going there again.
“We don’t want you to be victims again,” he says.