Ray's birthday dawned partly overcast. I cracked open my eyes to him moving in the bed next to me, letting me know he was waking up too. I scuttled out of bed to make coffee as it was my turn to treat him to coffee in bed. I had no idea of the intimidating day that lay ahead of me.
Ray left home around ten to do some shopping. I was home alone.
I was sitting at my computer, having just started a letter to one of my cyber friends when I heard an unusual sound in the house. I got up to investigate. I made for the kitchen, as I was sure that was where the sound emanated from. I was correct. As I reached the kitchen door leading off the passageway, I was confronted by a black man wielding a crowbar. I froze. A million thoughts raced through my head; all negative. Somewhere I had read, or heard, "Don't put up any resistance, that way one is less likely to be hurt" I decided to follow this advice.
He motioned me to be quiet. I obeyed. In Afrikaans, he whispered, "Ek soek geld" (I want money). Without a word, I stepped back two paces and retrieved my purse from my handbag which was just behind me on the serving hatch. I opened my purse and held it out to him. He quickly pocketed the notes, then grabbed the bag to rummage through it. He found nothing more of value . He then patted down my pockets, taking my cigarettes and phone.
He again cautioned me to be silent, and motioned me to walk in front of him to my bedroom, whispering, "Gaan, gaan" (go, go.) With a quailing heart, I obeyed. Fear of rape was foremost in my mind. I was shaking so badly, I could hardly walk.
The intruder marched me through my bedroom, through the adjacent guest lounge, to the guest bedroom. He peeked into the bathroom, then opened the bedroom cupboards. Nothing appealed to him there. He turned to me and told me to lie on the floor. In terror, I shook my head. He then told me to lie on the bed. I just stood there, saying quietly, "Please don't hurt me." To my huge relief, he turned away, motioning me to follow him back to my bedroom.
Upon entering the bedroom, he spotted the gun safe and stopped in front of it. I heard a grunt of satisfaction(?) from him, before he demanded the keys from me. I told him I didn't have the keys. More urgently, he demanded the keys again. Fearing a violent retribution, I told him I couldn't give him what I didn't have. Naturally, his next question was to ask who had them. I told him my husband had them. I don't think he believed me, as he started rummaging in Ray's wardrobe drawers, looking for keys; trying whichever he thought might fit. He was sadly disappointed.
During his rummaging, he came across a throwing-knife. My heart sank, but he pocketed it. In another drawer, he discovered our 'air' pistol, with a grunt of definite satisfaction, he tucked it into the back of his trousers, under his jacket. He was about to jemmy open the small Rhodesian teak door in Ray's wardrobe, when I shook my head, telling him it only contained important (to us)papers. Thankfully, he believed me.
He then turned his attention to our bedside drawers, sorting out small items which he thought may have value - men's copper bracelets, and Ray's (cheap) watch ..... and our bedtime treat slabs of chocolate. (WTH!!! ) Then on to a round plastic container where I keep my costume jewellery. While sorting through this, he suddenly raised his head and asked, "ringe?" (rings). I raised both my hands, showing I wasn't wearing any - nor did I have 'ring marks' on my fingers. I never wear rings whilst at home. Little did he know, he was mere inches from my wedding ring, which was hidden in plain sight on the dressing-table. It would have broken my heart to lose that, as it had belonged to my father, and his father before him.
He had left his crowbar virtually next to me, plus my phone, as I sat on the side of the bed watching him. I surreptitiously reached out, or so I thought, and palmed my phone. When he picked up the crowbar, he motioned me to follow him to the other rooms. The first room down, Ray uses as a 'work room' and after sorting through the tools lying around, moved on to our granddaughter's room. The only thing he took from her room was a small gold cross pendant.
We were passing the toilet door when I told him I needed to use it. I was about to shut, and lock the door when he must have realized what my plan was. He shoved the door open, taking my phone from me. So much for my great plan to call the police!
As we entered the lounge, he looked up at the display case against the wall. It contains quite a variety of replica fire-arms. I told him they were all plastic - he believed me. After looking into all the small cupboards in our lounge, and finding nothing small of value, he moved into our dining room. I ducked back into the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water. I guess I had been hyperventilating, and my mouth was dry. He quickly came in search of me, motioning me to stay with him.
From the dining room, he rounded the corner into our computer room. He started looking around. I knew there would be plenty of drawers to open and explore, so after a minute or two, moved as quietly as I could back to the kitchen, and out the back door. I hastily made my way to the front gate. As providence would have it, Ray arrived seconds after. I motioned him to reverse the car and phone for the police. Not understanding me completely, he jumped out of the car and ran to me. I told him there was an intruder in the house.
At that moment, a 4x4 was about to ride past our house. Ray put up his hands and shouted, "Stop!" to the driver. After a hurried explanation, the man jumped out of his vehicle, hefting a large knife. Together they raced into the house, ready to do battle. Fortunately, or is it unfortunately? the invader had already left the scene.
Ray phoned the police station ..... no reply! He phoned an emergency number, to which there was no reply either. A call to a command centre was eventually answered, and Ray reported the robbery. We are still waiting for the police to arrive.
