"Hey, wake up."

My sister is shaking me rather urgently. I glance at my alarm clock. It is just before 8 on Saturday morning.

I groan and shut my eyes again. "What is it?"

"Did you borrow my laptop during the night?" (Her laptop is brand new... bought only weeks ago, so she's a tad possessive.)

"No, of course not," I say, more than a little irritated by such a silly question so early in the morning. Defeated and fully awake now, I realise that I probably won't be able to get any more rest, so I open my eyes.

My sister, still in her pajamas, is suddenly looking even more worried. "Oh, damn..." she sighs and spins around.

A minute later I hear her yell out: "My wallet's gone. And my cellphone!" She continues tallying up the losses. Several thousands worth... and yet, a lot of other valuables had been overlooked. Were they rushed? Spooked? Stupid?

Two hours later, the police van arrives at the gate. The security guy is already here, going through the security camera footage. It records as soon as it picks up motion. We're hoping it would have recorded the bastard(s?) who had managed to get over the electrified fence without setting off the alarm. I shudder when I think how safe that fence has made me feel in the past, when I had been here all by myself. Talk about a false sense of security...

The dogs look suspiciously sleepy. They normally bark at the wind, much to my sister's dismay. I always tell her to stop yelling at them for barking. "After all, it's their job." That morning, they don't even bark at the policemen or the security guy. I hug their bodies to my chest, wondering how they were drugged (was it thrown at them over the fence, disguised as irresistibly edible morsels?) and almost cry with relief that they weren't poisoned...

"Come to think of it," she says. "I never actually heard them barking in the night!" She is a light sleeper. And she was up intermittently throughout the night, tending to her infant daughter.

So they WERE drugged then. Or, the thought lingers between us, too awful to be spoken: did they not bark because they KNEW the people? But why do they still look so drowsy and listless?

Luckily my sister and brother-in-law had locked the rape gate in the hallway before going to bed. (A rape gate, in case you are a foreigner living outside South Africa, is a necessary staple in many South African homes, separating the bedrooms from the rest of the house.) I shudder again when I think of what could have happened had the gate not been there... and about the fact that I was sleeping in the ungated guest area, mere unprotected metres from where they had passed to get out of the house.

Apart from several of our possessions, my usual even temper also seems to have vanished. I suddenly feel like a manic depressive. At times I am relieved and looking on the bright side (which, even on the best of days is unusual for me). The next minute I am furious. And seconds later, my mood plunges and I become depressed. Right now, I'm just utterly despondent.

But throughout my varying degrees of madness and sadness, the questions swirling through my mind remain the same. At times they even border on the irrational, but never mind: Why has crime become an accepted part of existence in South Africa? (I wanted to say 'an accepted part of life', but the way we live here isn't much of a life, is it?) Why do we and others consider ourselves to be LUCKY? We were still violated, weren't we? So why should we be grateful that we at least weren't killed. Or raped. Or tortured as so many other victims have been? (Told you it bordered on the irrational!) Why is it the norm for ordinary, innocent people in South Africa to live behind bars* (which don't keep the criminals out anyway) and lock and key and electric fences while the murderers and thieves and hijackers and rapists and molesters get to roam the streets, free to terrify, plunder, rape and kill us?

Last night I discovered I had been robbed of something even more precious. My sister, brother-in-law and the kids went out to dinner. Defiant and brave, I said I would stay here alone. I had never been scared to stay here alone before. In fact, I've always liked having their big farmhouse to myself.

But not long after they left, I found myself jumpy and jittery and downright terrified. Every little shadow and creak became a potential intruder. By the time they returned, I was absolutely exhausted.

And then, today, I read this, and it makes me feel even more sick with fear.

I don't even have words anymore.


* Oh, but just by the way, I realise that not all innocent people living in South Africa can afford to take the pricey security measures to protect themselves and their families. (In fact, it would be safe - ha ha, ironic word that, isn't it - to say that the majority can't.) I should know, because I am one of them. At my own place in town I only have a door (not even a security gate) protecting me from whoever is out there...