It’s amazing how your perception of a city can change with one flash of metal. Last night I was attacked and robbed on my way out to meet a friend for a drink. I had never been “mugged” before and always wondered how I would react in such a situation. Well now I know. It happened only three blocks from my house on a street that I quite often use when I want to walk down to Julius Neyere Ave. I have always felt pretty safe walking around at night in this area and did not consider this street to be particularly risky. In fact, the street that I was on goes right past the barracas that I write so much about in my blog.

I was passing through a darker section of the street when I suddenly felt a guy come up behind me, mutter something in Portuguese and jab what felt like a screwdriver into my back. The next thing I know I’m surrounded by about 5-6 guys who had converged on me from all angles on the street. They proceeded to push me to the ground, hold a knife an inch from my face and forcibly rummage through my pockets. I initially tried to resist but, realizing my efforts were futile, eventually gave in. A large truck passed by and blew its horn loudly, scattering my attackers. They made off with my wallet but luckily I was wearing my cargo pants and they were unable to find my cell phone that I was holding in one of the side pockets.

I returned home incredibly angry, hurt and dejected about the whole situation. My honeymoon in Maputo was over and I had seen first hand this city’s criminal underbelly. I have always considered thieves, particularly violent thieves, to be some of the lowest forms of human beings. When I look at how many Mozambicans choose to work hard despite their impoverished state I have nothing but contempt for my attackers who choose crime as a means to acquire money. What’s worse is that I feel I was targeted specifically because of the colour of my skin. These guys have probably been watching me for the past month, as I walk along the same route almost every night. I want to live in this neighbourhood and I want to feel safe here. I don’t want to live in a state of perpetual fear every time I leave my house. I often scoffed at the warnings of many of the ex-pats living in Maputo, who lock themselves in gated houses and never venture out after dark. The whole time that I’ve been here I felt that their paranoia was unjustified...Maputo felt safe to me and I never had a reason to believe otherwise. This has all changed after last night. I am a very trusting person but my faith in Maputo has been shaken. I always believe in the inherent goodness of people and it hurts me when I am exposed to the darker side of human nature.

Today my heart is heavy and my spirit is low. I pray that God will help me to release the anger and the hatred I am feeling and continue to fill my heart with the love and compassion I need to live in this city. I need to remember all the wonderful Maputans I have met since arriving in Mozambique and not allow this attack to hang like a storm cloud over my head. I need to be thankful that I was not seriously hurt and that I only lost some leather, some paper and some plastic…all things that I can easily replace. Today is a new day and I will not allow this experience to drag my spirit down. Maputo is still a beautiful city full of beautiful people and I need to remember that.