It was a particularly humid day, even by Indonesian standards. My forehead was glistening, my clothes clinging uncomfortably to my body as I stepped out of the sweltering taxi onto the street. I paused for a second as I fiddled with my backpack and swung it over my shoulder when I suddenly heard the muted pitter-patter of little rubber soled shoes stampeding my way. Suddenly, I was awash in a sea of prodding, thieving little fingers, my own hands tangled in the black adjustable straps of my bag. I spun aggressively to one side and let out my best, most manly roar, then spun in the other direction hoping to shake the horde of child pickpockets loose. Most of the kids dashed away, but a couple of particularly determined hoodlums remained for another second, trying in vain to grasp the few small bills and change in pockets of my khaki shorts. The visceral kill-or-be-killed side of brain took total control as I pulled back my right leg and mightily swung it forward, solidly connecting with the tender side of my assailant- a wiry, dark haired little girl of perhaps 7 or 8 years. As if in slow motion, her tiny body flew back several feet and landed with a dampened thud and grunted cry on the scorching, dirty Jakarta sidewalk. A second later, she was back on her feet and sprinting away with a noticeable limp to some unknown hovel, hands empty. Full of adrenaline and heart pumping, I checked my pockets. The little bit of cash that had been there remained untouched- all 8,000 rupiah, or about $0.90. I had just gone Chuck Norris on a little girl over 90 cents.
I had a flashback to this moment recently when I was playing with my 8 year old nephew and he tried to tackle me. The way he bounced off when I playfully pushed him was a little too familiar and brought me right back to the muggy streets of Southeast Asia. From a very cold, objective point of view, my reflex reaction to the swarming was probably justified- those poor kids were no angels, and I, the overfed white tourist, was the proper victim. But the event haunts me still. I was in no danger, and the only thing at risk was whatever happened to be in my pockets- a few loose bills, maybe a pack of gum. My wallet, credit cards, and important documents were all well out of reach. I knew this, yet my reaction was still to fight, even against such an informidable opponent. It wasn’t even so much about the little money that was there, it was about the principle- what was in my pockets was mine, and nobody was going to take that which rightfully belonged to me. I can safely say that my reaction was the single worst thing I’ve ever done in the name of money, or possessions, or stuff. And oddly, it was one of the key events that started my journey away from money obsession.
I’m not sure where the moral is, or even why I felt compelled to write about this. Maybe my Catholic soul needs confession, maybe catharsis. Maybe I’ve been reading too much Dickens. Whatever the reason, I’m interested to hear YOUR stories about the less-than-noble things you’ve done for (or in defence of) money. Readers, the time has come to ease your troubled conscience!
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{ 8 comments… read them below or add one }
Wow- that story is both funny and sad. I can’t say I’ve ever kicked someone for money, but I have done some things that I wouldn’t normally do to save a buck, like not letting people know when I get incorrect change or not tipping when I think I can “get away with it”. I think lots of other people do, too.
I just want to try and relieve your guilt. Are you really only feeling guilty because the thieves were merely urchins? A thief is a thief, my friend. I am now going to swim into the ocean of controversy by comparing your situation to the seal-hunt (PETA be damned). If the seals were not so garsh-darn cute, would people have as much of an issue killing them? Probably not…the food is eaten and pelt used…really no different than you moose from yesterday’s post (For the record, I am a strong believer in the seal-hunt and think that some societies (ie NL) should have rights comparable to aboriginal rights to seal)
The point I am trying to make is that just because the thief is young does not change the fact that she is still a thief. It is unfortunate that in other countries it is necessary for children to have to resort to such acts, but you should not be the victim for protecting your rights. As well, the amount is immaterial…it was your money and not their money. The end justifies the means. Flame on!
Wow.
I don’t know what to tell you, except that if I had done the same thing, I would feel as bad about it as you do, right or wrong. I’m one of those peopl who agrees that people wouldn’t be so opposed to, say, a mutant gopher hunt as they are to the seal hunt, but would I feel endlessly guilty and inhuman if I had to pull the trigger on one of those fuzzy, helpless, big-brown-eyed little suckers? You bet your overfed white tourist ass I would.
PS- at least you didn’t club her.
While clearly that poor girl was desperate, maybe she learned a lesson …?
Something I’ve done - I ate at a restaurant once and they forgot to charge me for my drinks, which was kind of a nice saving.
Courageous to tell this story. It does sound like instinct took over. OK, I’ve charged a client for naps (I work at home). I’ve passed so many beggars without giving or acknowledging them, when I could so easily afford to give…
You are overreacting to your own guilt. Are you saying that you should not have defended your space or your money? I’ve been approached often by homeless panhandlers. In some cases they asked for money for some specific purchase. In each case, I offered to make the purchase for them (e.g., a sandwich or a bus ticket). In each case, they angrily rejected my offer, as I had caught them in a lie. They wanted instead to buy beer. Perhaps your kick in the head will be remembered by that little girl as the day she decided that life as a beggar is not worth it.
Go watch the movie Slumdog Millionaire and you’ll see what these children really go through, behind the not-so-innocent thiefory you were almost victim to…
Street urchins have been known to stab and swarm over tourists to rob them blind and kill them.
Consider yourself lucky…
They’re kids, but they’re desperate. And that kind of hungry desperation drives people to do unbelievable things.
Fabulously Broke in the City
“Just a girl trying to find a balance between being a Shopaholic and a Saver.“