A series of unfortunate events: When Bogotá bites back

@wwaycorrigan

[Listen to an audio version of this blog entry here.]

On last week's Bogotá Nights, we discussed insecurity in Colombia's capital city and the country in general.

One regular viewer, an Englishman who has been based in this country for nine years, told us how he was the victim of only one crime-related episode during that time.

The indestructible colectivo buses, scene of a few thefts.

Considering Colombia has been my home for a similar period — it'll be ten years this November — the Englishman's revelation shocked me somewhat. I've averaged over one incident a year. 

So have I been lacking in street smarts or just been particularly unlucky? Or have I taken too many risks?

It's really a mixture of all three, as my recounting here of some of these, to borrow from Lemony Snicket, 'unfortunate events' should demonstrate.

I'll start with the rookie errors, where I was just too relaxed, where I let the guard down, as I put it years ago. Then I'll detail the incidents that were more foolhardy in nature, buoyed up by Dutch courage at times — when one remembers that is.

Out of sight, out of mind

On those rare summer nights in Ireland when the temperature is in the comfortable zone, one faces that critical choice of whether or not to take a jacket when heading out. I recall a friend's take on it: 'Better looking at it than looking for it.'

That sound advice also applies to one's personal belongings when in public spaces in Bogotá, with one important addition: Not only must one's items be in sight but they must also be difficult to be got at by others.

In terms of monetary value, the theft of my Asus laptop in 2018 was the biggest hit I suffered on this front. I generally don't like to go socialising when I have my laptop with me but passing by a friend's place on my way home from a class, he suggested we go for a few drinks.

The smart move would have been to leave my bag with the laptop inside at his house. Wise after the event, hey? 

The fact we were in a middle-class part of the city meant I was, subconsciously perhaps, less concerned about something untoward happening.

'Causing a bit of commotion, I grabbed the guy who I thought was the culprit and insisted he got off the bus with me. He did.'

Sat at a table, I had my bag under my chair. A drink or two in, a couple of people walked by us, one of them hitting my shoulder, prompting me to look in that direction. 

A few moments later I reached down to where my bag was. Gone in about six seconds. And so were the couple who took it. A hit-and-run attack of sorts.

A similar bag-grab incident happened a few years earlier whilst drinking coffee with a friend in a fancy Oma café in the city centre. On that occasion, fortunately, there was little of value in the bag.

Equally as frustrating as the above was having my Samsung smartphone swiped from my pocket on a packed city bus.  

Again, I have to accept my own stupidity in the incident — 'dando papaya' as the Colombians say, ire-inducing for the victim to hear as it is.

Writing on my phone throughout the commute — trying to be constructive with my time — when it came to my stop, I put the phone in the chest pocket of the shirt I was wearing and reached for the bell. Returning my hand to the chest pocket, the phone was gone. That's all it took, those few seconds.

Considering the closeness of people to me, I was convinced I knew the culprit. Causing a bit of commotion, I grabbed him and insisted he got off the bus with me. He did.

He pleaded with me saying it wasn't him but I was having none of it. I was sure he had some part in it. 

We went to the nearest minutos street vendor — basically mobile phones for hire per minute — and called my number. A woman answered. I told her I just wanted my phone back, no more. We agreed on a meeting place. Not thinking straight, I let the guy I'd taken from the bus go and made my way to the rendezvous point.

Papaya, the low-hanging fruit. You've to pay for the ones pictured here, though!

Once there, I called my phone again. And again, the woman answered. She said she was on her way. I waited. Then after about ten minutes, I called once more. This time, it went straight to voicemail.

It was only then it dawned on me that the guy who I'd plucked from the bus had obviously caught up with his accomplice and told her that the 'idiot gringo' let him go. They were in the clear.

Whilst angry about losing the phone, I was just as furious about actually capturing one of the thieves and then letting him off the hook.

Out of sight, out of mind indeed. The lesson? On packed buses or the Transmilenio — I also had a smartphone taken from my pocket when squeezing onto a Transmilenio — have your valuables well locked up, either in a bag that you have a tight grip on or tucked into your crotch area.

Wild rover

Sometimes showing no fear can work to one's advantage. And consuming alcohol often imbues one with inflated confidence.

I've undertaken long walks home along dimly lit, eerie streets that in sobriety I'd most likely avoid. Remembering the exact details of these wild rovings is often a bonus. Nonetheless, most of the time, nothing happens. Most of the time, that is.

Two incidents, in particular, stand out owing to their that-could-have-been-much-worse nature.

'The next thing I remember is waking up on a footpath miles south of where I lived with two guys emptying my pockets.'

In 2012, my first full year here, I had the pleasure of being wined and dined at a Christmas party for the English language institute for which I freelanced at the time. The do was in the greater Zona T area, a relatively fancy part of the city.

When home-time came, I opted to take a bus back to my residence in the centre rather than fork out for a taxi on my own — taxis have always been a last resort for me.

Rather tipsy, I was happy to find a vacant seat on the bus. The next thing I remember is waking up on a footpath miles south of where I lived with two guys emptying my pockets — I had something like 60,000 pesos in cash and a very basic phone, worth about 30,000 pesos.

The assailants, rather kindly, did leave me with 500 pesos, about a third of the value of the standard bus fare back then.

Slowly gathering my bearings but not at all too sure as to where exactly I was, I had a bit of a wait for another bus to come by — it was the early hours of the morning after all.

Eventually, one that passed through the centre came along. Thankfully the bus driver accepted my incomplete fare as I tried to explain in my quite poor Spanish what had happened.

Disorientated and drained, I took a seat and — wait for it — fell asleep again. I woke up to the bus driver telling me we'd reached the end of the route — at a small terminal in Fontibon to be precise, on the city's western limits.

I told him that I needed to go to the centre. Although he initially seemed keen to get me off, in the end, he left me where I was while he went for something to eat. About 30 minutes later he came back and set off on the return journey. I didn't miss my stop this time.

Six years later, in November 2018, I was socialising in my "beloved" La Perseverancia barrio. It was the birthday of one of my costeño (somebody originally from the coast, that is) acquaintances, so, as is the costeños wont, the beer and, more damagingly, whiskey were in full flow.

As I recall, we went on a bit of a tienda crawl. The whiskey soon began to take its toll. The next memory I have is of my coming round on a footpath, with a bloodied face, black eye and two police officers standing over me. I had nothing but the keys to my apartment on me.

Foolishly, I'd gone out that night with a wallet containing my Colombian bank card, my ID and my Irish driver's licence. I also had a bag with me. Everything was taken.

At least the police officers did drive me to my residence.

The next day I returned to La Perseverancia in a bid to get some idea as to what had transpired. I thought somebody might know something.

Of those I trust the most there, they knew as much as me, i.e. next to nothing. What exactly happened that night remains — and no doubt will remain — a mystery.

There have been some other similar opaque occurrences but the above gives enough of an idea of the idiocy involved.

Ending on a more positive outlook, outside of the Cuban phone crisis that I wrote about at the beginning of this year and at the risk of jinxing myself, I've had nothing stolen since 2018.

I think I've had my fair share all the same.
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Listen to Wrong Way's Colombia Cast podcast here.

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The thieving Catholics

We've written here before that you can never become too relaxed going about your daily business in Colombia. 

Let the guard down briefly in terms of watching your personal belongings and there's a high chance somebody will be on hand to take advantage.

In the almost six years that Bogotá has been our base, we've had a few face-to-face run-ins with thieves. Most of these incidents were down to our own risk taking, at times buoyed up on Dutch courage, doing things that others might see as outright stupidity.

A seat of thievery?

On only three occasions — three too many, albeit — have we been robbed clandestinely: the 'quintessential' 'dando papaya', that annoying phrase here that seems to blame the victim for allowing the crime to happen. 

Whatever about being confronted by knife-wielding thugs, letting yourself be robbed by somebody who sneakily takes something out of your pocket, bigger fool you, eh?

That aside, the lamentable thing in all of this is that it happens. That people, remorselessly so it seems, take another individual's belongings at the slightest opportunity.

Yes, we can't talk about this without referring to the poverty that many who do resort to theft find themselves in, as well as a myriad of other social problems that they have to contend with.

Many also point to the corruption, nepotism and 'what have you' of the better-off types running the show as justification for illegal acts. (Alas, it's those in the hard-pressed working classes who tend to get shafted more than most, be it from politicians or underground criminals.)

Now, it's not just Colombia we're on about here. The same can be said for a host of countries, but ones with an important connection.

That's because if we look at global stats on robberies — difficult as it is to get a true picture for various reasons — alongside anecdotal evidence and personal experience, this temptation to steal from others appears more prevalent in countries with a strong Christian, more specifically Catholic, background. 

Make the sign of the cross before and after your immoral act and all will be fine. (To be extra sure you could say a prayer or two for forgiveness from the 'Almighty'.)

Across the Middle East and Asia, where you have people in even greater poverty, especially so in Asia, than what you'll find in Latin America never mind Europe, this thieving mentality seems to be far weaker.

From a Middle Eastern perspective, it could be said this comes down to strong, what some might consider inhumane deterrents in some countries; or at least the threat of them.

Certainly in Catholic/Christian countries many are quick to talk about human rights in this regard, yet aren't as vociferous about human responsibilities. Punishments for petty crimes such as theft usually amount to nothing; a slap on the wrist and off you go.

We're not asking here for extremes such as cutting off that wrist, but how about a 21st-century version of the chain gang? 

Something like a fenced-off area in a rural location where convicted thieves can grow their own food and learn to become self-sufficient (and work). Just a thought. There are variants on the theme.

Effective deterrents aside, there also seems to be something else at play. In general, this appears to be bad schooling, where it seems that taking advantage of somebody else is seen as a better quality than helping another person.

Whatever the case, the thieving mentality isn't going to dissipate any moment soon. For the time being, it's a case of being on high alert at all times.
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Colombia: The only risk is becoming too relaxed

As mentioned in our previous post, you can never drop your guard in Colombia. It’s up to you, naturally enough really, to be responsible for yourself and your belongings. 

Be that as it may, it still doesn’t, or at least shouldn’t, make it more acceptable if you do happen to have something stolen while having ‘a moment of weakness’.

Scene of the crime: Oma may be upmarket, but that doesn't mean it's safer.

Que pena 

That such things happen, as they do across the globe, doesn’t mean that we should just shrug and accept them. Disappointingly, this is often the reaction of many people in these parts.

It’s the whole ‘dar papaya’ mentality, that it’s the victims' fault for allowing themselves to be robbed. ‘Silly you.’ This is linked in with the ‘que pena con usted’ expression, ‘isn’t that awful for you, but I don’t really care.’ ‘Eh, thanks, guys.’ 

Personally, having been based in Bogotá for three years now, I feel relatively comfortable in my environs and I am usually clued in to any potential threats. 

Yet, there is always the risk that you can become too relaxed. My excuse for the latest incident where I let the city’s ladrones (thieves) get one over me was that I’d just donated blood (for the first time in my life it must be said) and perhaps I wasn’t my usual shrewd self (don’t laugh).

Now, this time around the scene wasn’t your typical Wrong Way working-class venue, but rather a much more upmarket Oma café (the newly opened one in Torre Bicentenario on Carrera 4 with Avenida Jiménez), equipped with a security guard and cameras.

However, therein lies the danger; the feeling that you and your possessions are a little safer in such a place. 

In fact, it could be argued that the sheer volume of security guards employed in this country dilutes each individual one’s impact. I certainly wouldn’t be relying on many of them to have my back in a tight corner.

The "fatal" errors on my part were not having my bag in eyeshot or tied around something secure and not taking notice of the movements around me; the intense conversation I was having with an old friend was occupying my mind.

Whatever the case, the relatively well-dressed ladrones saw their opportunity and seized it.

'On the ball' security. Well, not quite ...

Thankfully, it was far from spectacular the booty they got. Basically, there was the bag itself, a few USB sticks, an old jacket (of sentimental value albeit) and a pocket-book of Spanish grammar along with an English-Spanish dictionary – at least those latter items might help our pilferers overcome their illiteracy problems.

Predictably, when we reported the robbery to the building’s administrator, her initial reaction fell firmly into the ‘dar papaya’ mindset. 

To her credit, though, she eventually showed some morsels of taking affirmative action, agreeing to set in train the process of reviewing the premise’s security cameras.* Perhaps next time she'll realise that this should be her first response.

You see, as official Colombia grapples with a potential peace agreement with the Farc guerrillas, real peace and security must come from the people, ‘el pueblo Colombiano’, each and every part of it. Taking a strong stand against all who jeopardise this is what’s needed.

There are positive signs in this regard, but by its very nature, it’s a never-ending process, consisting of many different, overlapping strands. This country, however, has too many decent people to let a thuggish minority dominate the landscape.

Yet, turn a blind eye to that minority’s behaviour and the vicious cycle will continue.
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*That process is still ongoing. Hopefully, if and when the cameras are reviewed, we’ll have a good picture of the thieves, something that we can publish.

I'm yelling Tinder

As we all know, in this life there are the haves and the have nots, something that has been well documented in various ways on this blog.* 

In what could be seen as a microcosm of that on some levels, there are those who have a smartphone and those who do not.

Time to yell 'Tinder'? (Image from Facebook.)

At the moment I fall into that latter category. The reasons for this are chiefly split between personal choice and, to a lesser extent, economic circumstances.

The fact that much of my work currently revolves around technology (whose doesn't?) or at least staring at a screen, in my downtime, of which there has been a lot of late, I like to try and remove myself from such things. 

Hence, heretofore at least, I've been pretty content with my basic phone or flechita (literally, 'little dart') as they call it in Colombia. My thinking has been that with that, people can call and text me if they need to and I can do likewise if I want to. No more, no less. 

For all other technology and social media related issues, I can use my laptop at specified times of the day. Who needs to have Facebook or Twitter by their side 24/7?

The simple life: A 'flechita'. (Photo from Phone Outlet.)

Indeed, one of my bugbears when one goes out to socialise in person these days, something I've touched on before, is that you'll find a host of people with their heads stuck in their smartphones, preferring to virtually interact with people rather than engage physically with the person next to them. Perhaps that just happens to me, though?

Nonetheless, I'm slowly beginning to think that it may be time to take the plunge and invest in a smartphone. 

From a work point of view, considering plenty of hours are lost commuting across Bogotá going from one class to the next, having a compact device/phone that would allow me to do some additional research and writing while in transit would be handy and probably time-saving. 

Of course, there is always the dar papaya risk in flashing your smartphone in public,** giving would-be robbers an even greater incentive to have a go at the rich (if only they knew) Westerner.

That aside, a more compelling reason to join the smartphone revolution, if some people's experiences are to be believed, is the dating application (or 'app' as they say) Tinder. 

According to those in the know, it's basically a sure-fire way of at least securing a one-night stand. 

Not only that but in Bogotá, for Western men in any case, what's on offer is of pretty decent quality – superficially anyway. I imagine that's replicated throughout Colombia.

So for single and, apparently, not-so-single people, Tinder is proving to be a great place to get that much-coveted hookup. Word on the (virtual) street is that it takes a lot of the tedious small talk out of the equation. Both parties can just cut to the chase.

Beyoncé: She'd get a swipe. (Photo from Facebook.)

Now, if 'the chase' is something you actually enjoy, then Tinder might leave you feeling a little empty – fish in a barrel kind of thing you might say. 

Yet, if you're tired of the games that some potential partners play after you've had an initial rendezvous, Tinder could be just what you need to avoid becoming frustrated.

Thus, maybe it's time for Wrong Way to delve into the smartphone world and see how those swanky 'haves' live. If it saves time and effort across a range of activities it could prove to be a valuable asset.

And as it is with all of these things, there's always an off button. That, however, might not be as easy to find on whoever you happen to pick up on Tinder.
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*See last week's Chasing a star(bucks) for starters on that.

**To get the 'dar papaya' reference and meaning, read 'Dar papaya' - letting the guard down.

'Que pena con usted; but at least I got my way'

It's not always best practice to take sayings/phrases from a non-native language, translate them into our own, and then take them literally. 

There are many examples in English where taking a word-for-word translation of certain expressions just doesn't make sense in other languages; 'the hair of the dog', 'beat about the bush', and so forth.

'Que pena Mr Cayman, but at least I'd the decency to wait until you died.'

Yet, the Colombian-Spanish saying of 'que pena con usted' doesn't fall into this bracket – not as far as we're concerned anyway, owing to our experiences of its use. The literal translation is 'what pain/embarrassment for (with) you'. 

This tends to be used in many scenarios in Colombia when, in the English speaking world, in any case, the more appropriate response would be 'Sorry' or 'Is there anything I can do to help?'

Now, you might say that que pena for Colombians is their 'sorry' and that's what they mean when they utter it (leaving aside the fact that there is in existence a perfect Spanish equivalent of 'sorry', namely 'lo siento', – literally 'I feel it' – which many other Spanish-speaking countries have no problem using). However, as is so often the case, actions speak much louder than words.

For example, an all-too-often 'que pena' usage is when you're in the middle of asking for something at a bar or café or the like and somebody else comes along and starts barking out his (or her – and perhaps it's more likely to be a woman) order ahead of you. 

You politely inform him that you were there first and in the middle of ordering; cue the que pena (without making eye contact) and the out-of-order order continues without a second thought for the 'displaced'. In other words, to fit the translation, “what a pain for you indeed. But I'm happy, I've got what I want, that's the most important thing.”

You could argue that there is a freshness and even honesty in this compared to much of the English-speaking world where people sometimes use 'sorry' when they don't really mean it. However, it's fair to say, in comparison with the example above for one, our behaviour in queues is generally a little more courteous and, dare we say, correct.

Moreover, an indifferent que pena is used in so many contexts where for us 'lo siento' should be the more appropriate reply backed up by a genuine acceptance of an error or misjudgement. 

In its absence, it really only leaves one conclusion; they don't care that their actions have impeded you.

It does seem like a case of 'sorry being the hardest word'; or just not in the vernacular, full stop.

The 'Bible' for some Colombians?

We can't highlight all this without touching on another, what appears to be from our experiences and those of others we've met in any case, national trait. That is an inherent inability to admit culpability to anything, even if there is irrefutable damning evidence to the contrary.

In some places, putting your hand up to say you were at fault is seen as a brave, courageous step in many incidences, a display of honesty. Not so, for the most part, in Colombia. There's always some sort of excuse available, even if it happens to be about as watertight as a teabag.

Yet this doesn't mean that you can't be at fault (well somebody has to be, right?). If something unfortunate happens to you, a typical question here is 'what did you do wrong?' for it to have occurred. 

For example, 'it's your fault that the 'ladrones' (thieves) robbed you, you allowed them to.' No 'dar papaya' and all that (and we hasten to add, the few run-ins we've had have generally been down to our own stupidity – it's not the case for everybody though). 

This, perhaps, gives some explanation as to why there appears to be at times a laissez-faire attitude towards petty crime among the locals. It happens, and if you're the victim you probably did something to allow it to happen.

'Que pena con usted' indeed. Continue to throw it our way, however, and the bigger 'pena' might be with you. We're too nice for that though. 

Plus, as we learned some time back, it's best not to take such things too seriously in these parts; nobody else appears to.

"Dar papaya" — letting the guard down

A common occurrence for immigrants after spending some time in their adopted place is that they begin to feel more comfortable, at ease with their new surroundings. Not a bad thing in most scenarios, that. 

Indeed, it’s what most of us want to happen when we decide to rock up in a location that may be outside our comfort zone in some respects.

It's best to take all necessary precautions on a night out in Bogotá.

However – and this tends to be place-dependent – there are times when you can get to a level of comfort that slips into complacency. This is when things can get dangerous, something we’ve found out to our cost on a number of occasions here in Bogotá. 

Before we look at those incidents, it must be stated that even taking the best precautions out there is not going to guarantee your safety. That’s something that in reality can never be met, anywhere. Yes, some places are worse than others, but nowhere is completely trouble-free.

No matter where you are, though, there are certain things you can do to at least lessen the chances of, what Colombians call, "dando papaya", literally "giving papaya" (think low-hanging fruit). This phrase basically means leaving yourself exposed – not just physically, but mentally too – to be taken advantage of. Letting the guard down so to speak.

Our cautionary, lesson-must-be-learned experiences involve two of the things that we like to do best – socialising and the feeling that we’re getting value for money. 

The two stories we’re going to recount here were, as most of these sorts of incidents tend to be, completely avoidable. But when you can walk away from such events relatively unharmed, you should be all the stronger and wiser for them – that’s the theory anyway.

The first ‘eye-opener’ (or ‘skin-opener’ to be more precise, considering what happened) occurred in the flashy Zona T area of Bogotá – a place we usually feel ill at ease in any case but that’s usually to do with the arrogant types who frequent it, not for feelings of insecurity. 

As you tend to pay ridiculous prices around that part of the city for anything, we took it upon ourselves to purchase a bottle of aguardiente (Colombia’s ‘famed’ spirit) and knock it back in a quiet, dimly lit public park – we were unsure about the legalities of drinking on the street – before meeting another friend in an upmarket (and therefore outlandishly expensive) club.

Nice fruit, but keep it to yourself.

While ‘warming ourselves up’ in this park, three lads walked past us – something our more shrewd German companion apparently noticed, not liking their vibe, but he decided to hold his counsel. 

He should have trusted his instincts; for back came our ‘friends’, replete with knives and intent to harm. 

Two of them managed to pin down our German mate, not before managing to inflict a minor stab wound on our little finger. Seeing red, quite literally, and a little bit unsure as to what was happening, we confronted the third member of the group. 

Within seconds, though, the low-lives fled, once they had taken a little bit of a bounty from our friend – but in relative terms not that much. They took nothing material from us, but they did, of course, manage to split open our finger.

The lesson learned from this? Don’t nonchalantly go drinking in quiet parks at night time in Bogotá. OK, a no-brainer perhaps, but complacency very much set in for us on this occasion.

This brings us to the next ‘what were you thinking (or not as the case may be)’ cautionary tale. The context here is our dislike for taking taxis, especially when we know there’s a cheaper alternative. And with buses running more or less through the night in Bogotá, we generally find this a much more agreeable option to get home. 

Many locals, though, tend not to speak too highly of these late-night/early-morning buses. We’ve never had a problem with them, however – that is when we take them when we’re "with it", or at least close to being so.

This night, however, we don’t even remember getting on the bus to get home – in fact, we’re only guessing that this is what we did, but we can’t be fully sure. It seems, though, the most logical course of events to explain how we ended up in very dodgy territory in the not-very-safe south of the city, miles from where we were meant to be. 

Due to a significant blackout, our memory of events goes from being in a pub in the north of the city with friends and colleagues to lying on the ground in this inhospitable location in the far south with two men standing over us, emptying our pockets. 

Keys to the house, cash, mobile phone, ID – everything material they could take, they duly did. To paraphrase Ann Robinson from the BBC’s Weakest Link, ‘we were left with nothing’.

The exact details of our second 'incident' are a little blurry.

Thankfully, and most importantly, though, no physical injuries were inflicted. Considering how exposed we left ourselves, we were lucky on that front. 

Once we came round, we managed to bum a third of a bus fare from a guy on the street, with the bus driver seemingly taking pity on us, allowing us to board. Needless to say, we couldn't get out of the place quick enough.

As mentioned earlier, when you can walk away from such incidents pretty much in one piece, you have to be grateful. The most important thing is to learn from them and amend your practices accordingly. Not to do so is just plain stupid. 

For if you dar papaya around these parts, there are plenty of people willing to feed off you.
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*For related stories on Colombia's 'dangers' (or not!) see: 'Dangerous' Colombia Part III http://bit.ly/12KWiux and associated posts.

**All the 'team' here at 'Wrong Way' would like to wish all our loyal readers a Happy Christmas/Feliz Navidad! No, we're not using the 'PC' 'Happy Holidays' - here's why http://bit.ly/NNg2E8