Carol’s Column

Only a mug thinks crime is confined to Gauteng

Okay. Relax all you Gauties. You're no longer exclusive. Things are on the move throughout the country - including crime.

Last week I described how a man the size of a lock forward attacked me in Durban in an attempt to steal my handbag.

I immodestly mentioned how I'd punched him hard, kicking him for good measure. In the process, he limped away, I kept my bag but injured my hand. Actually, first X-rays revealed no fracture, but when after a week it had doubled in size (the hand), a surgeon found a knuckle was indeed cracked.

Which meant my punching hand was not in as fine a fettle as it might have been. So what, you might think. Well, last Thursday, while it was still light in Cape Town, at 5.30pm to be precise, I left Newspaper House which is situated in one of the city's most charming areas. Surrounded by St George's Mall, Greenmarket Square and delightful Church Street with its attractive pavement cafes.

Up Church Street I walked, when a young man - I guess in his 20s - strolled by and casually grabbed my necklace (the one my husband says resembles a lavatory chain). The point is, it's fairly sturdy.

I clutched the by now broken chain with my undamaged hand and shouted some nasty words to the chap, who didn't even quicken his pace.

At that stage, I thought I had the entire necklace. It was only when I reached my car and opened my fist that I saw he'd actually stolen about a third of the chain, including the thick fob bar at the bottom.

I removed my watch, locked everything in the boot of the car and returned to Church Street hoping to find him so that I could strangle him and retrieve my piece of necklace. By that time, he'd gone.

Meanwhile, letters and calls have piled in and I've been offered judo and karate lessons.

An 80-year-old ex-boxer called Sammy Piek (who says he was famous in his day) has offered to show me the basics of boxing and promises he'll teach me how to fell the meanest opponent with a right hook (that's the terminology I think he used).

He also assures me I won't damage my knuckles when I learn how to punch properly. “The trick is in your balance, your weight and the movement of your feet,” he added.

“You want to be Margot Fonteyn on your toes and Muhammad Ali with your fists.”

So, big deal. Although I've been mugged twice in 10 days, I'm alive and well. Just think of those who've been murdered, shot dead, knifed or paralysed? Everything's comparative.

“I'm fine,” I said to my daughter who phoned from the States.

“What, you have a broken knuckle, a red weal on your neck and you're fine!” she exclaimed. “That's sick.”

She has a point. To tell the truth, I don't like the person I've become. Aggressive, scared, angry, defensive, glaring at passers-by when before I would smile.

Dammit, this country belongs to us all and we all have the right to walk safely in the streets, to live peaceful, civilised lives.

So, what to do? Well, for R19,95 I bought a pepper spray from my friendly pharmacist which fits neatly in my hand and when sprayed into an assailant's face causes temporary blindness, choking, severe coughing, an intense burning sensation to the eyes and throat. It promises to incapacitate the assailant for 15 minutes. With my luck, the wind will change just as I spray.

As I said. Relax Gauties. Last week Durban, this week Cape Town ... next week Pofadder?

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