Robin Hood

"Amy! Amy! Time to get up. People from the bureau are here."

"Huh...?" I roll over groggily, rubbing my eyes. "Not ready to get up yet..."

"Sheila (the Administrative Officer) is downstairs waiting to talk to us. Let's go."

Suddenly I am wide awake. Damn. Last night was not just a bad dream.

Around 3:00 am this morning another volunteer came back from a late night at the bureau, grabbed a towel and headed off to take a shower before finally going to bed. He walked into the bathroom, turned on the light, shut the door behind him...and turned around to find a Burkinabe man hiding behind the door. After the initial shock of seeing something completely unexpected wore off, he began shouting "Voleur! Voleur!" ("Thief! Thief!") and pursued him into the hallway. The shouts woke me up just in time to hear loud footsteps rapidly approaching the area where a large group of volunteers were sleeping.

I lifted my face from being buried in my pillow, confused by all the shouting. The man burst through the door and sprinted right past my bed, with the volunteer close behind, followed immediately by another volunteer that had woken up quickly enough to also start chasing. Without contacts or glasses, I am completely blind, and all I could make out were three figures shouting and running frantically towards the staircase. I thought I had woken up in the middle of some sort of riot. I screamed. Several other people screamed. Chaos ensued.

"What's going on?!"

"Who was that?!"

"Are you okay?!"

Despite only going to bed a couple hours before, we all woke up very quickly. After a moment, the volunteer who chased the Burkinabe came back up the stairs, visibly angry.

"Check your stuff, guys. That was a thief."

I remember thinking to myself that there was no way the thief could have gotten anything from me because my bags were all right next to my bed, where I had been soundly sleeping just minutes before. Nevertheless, I picked up my purse and rifled through it a little just to be sure.

Wait a minute...where is my camera? Damn. And where is my wallet? Damn, Damn. And where is my iPod? Damn, Damn, Damn.

All around me were murmurings of relief at discovering that nothing was taken, or cries of "my iPod is gone!" Or "my money is gone!" Some of us began to wander around to check on people who somehow managed to sleep through the ruckus.

We all convened downstairs, still in our pajamas, and waited to find out what to do next, still a little in shock over what had just happened.

"Someone call Congo (the Safety and Security Officer)."

After a few minutes, we had all settled down and were sitting in our common area, waiting for someone from the embassy to show up. Many of us were even joking around and laughing a little...mostly out of relief.

The security officer sent by the embassy was a short Burkinabe man, dressed in a large yellow raincoat. He asked few questions; he mostly just wandered around shaking his head. When we described how the thief had gone up the stairs to our second floor where people sleep he made a surprised face and said, "ce n'est pas vrai!" (it's not true!) Then we told him how the thief had come into people's rooms while they were sleeping and he again said, "ce n'est pas vrai!" We assured him, yes, sir, "c'est vrai."

Collectively, the thief got away with a large sum of cash, around $1000, both in American dollars and CFA, three iPods, one camera, and some other small electronic devices.

He managed to take something else though...a feeling of security. Volunteers spend so much time here that it is only natural to let your guard down a little and start to consider these surroundings to be like home. But many of the things that he took were close to sleeping volunteers. My purse, for example, was on the floor literally right next to my bed. There were two people sleeping next to an outlet where some electronics were stolen. Items were stolen from bottom bunks of beds when there were two people sleeping on the top bunks. And the volunteer who found the thief had one of my worst nightmares realized...walking into a dark room and finding someone who is not supposed to be there. Gives me goosebumps just thinking about it. And all of this happened with a guard at the door to our courtyard.

The silver lining in this cloud is that the thief, although bold enough to enter our bedrooms, was not carrying a weapon. He did not attack anyone when he was found, and even though he was backed literally into a corner, he merely ran away.

None of us could go back to sleep after all the excitement, so we stayed up for a while, chatting and trying to unwind. We surmised about what he was going to do with our stolen items, and quipped that he now has a salary for the next several years. Someone jokingly said something that stuck with me regarding how other Burkinabe might look at the incident..."He is like Robin Hood. He robbed from the rich to give to the poor." This is obviously not the case, as we are clearly not the "Prince John" or "Sheriff of Nottingham" type. And in fact, most Burkinabe strongly condemn theft against anyone. Thieves here are not necessarily arrested, but if they are caught, they are beaten if not by the police, then often by other citizens. However, the idea of a Robin Hood type thief gives me a point to consider to put this incident into perspective.

Although by American standards we are living like paupers, it is impossible to deny the fact that in Burkina Faso, even our meager salary makes us very, very rich. This is exemplified by the fact that our conversation eventually turned to how we would go about replacing these stolen items. It is an inconvenience (albeit a large and costly inconvenience)...but it is possible for us to do. Many Burkinabe will never see an iPod or a digital camera. I do not at all condone what the thief did, but I can see how, as the old saying goes, "when you've got nothing, you've got nothing to lose..."

With that said, though, many Burkinabe who have nothing would never resort to stealing. Crime rates here are very low, especially considering the violent crime rates of some of Burkina's neighboring countries.

Burkina in Moore translates to "Men of Integrity". I find that most Burkinabe uphold this title. Even in the wake of the incident last night, I consider myself very lucky to be in a country where poverty has not destroyed integrity.