(Personal) Disaster

Meanwhile, back at the ranch…

During a pandemic – albeit one apparently on the wane – it’s wise to differentiate between a social disaster such as Covid 19 - involving our planet and millions of people - and a personal disaster. The latter is today’s focus.
I’ve acclimated to the reality that baggage handlers at Johannesburg international airport routinely going through travelers’ luggage and surreptitiously gleaning anything marketable. I’ve encountered it in the past and I’ve scrupulously weeded out of my checked luggage electronics, fancy gadgetry, and/or valuables. I’m careful with my carryon luggage – a small backpack and a pull-bag. I keep my wallet with money, cards, and ID separate from my wallet with passports and travel documents. 

All was well. 

Until my wallet was stolen.
I’d just paid for a local SIM card, carefully set my US SIM card in my wallet and zipped it into my backpack. Then I received an message on my cell phone from the domestic airline upon which I’d reserved a seat. 

Short version of that history: I’d actually, reserved two seats: one on a trip at 12:15pm then changed that to 4:15pm after it appeared my international carrier would arrive too late for me to comfortably make the 12:15 trip. I’d reserved and received confirmation I would be on the later flight. Then, this message arrived.

I was confused. Which flight was I on?  
Pushing my large luggage cart I hurried to the domestic carrier to learn my reservation was on the earlier flight. At that point I discovered my wallet was missing from my backpack.
Horrors! 

I was in South Africa, the land of bungled bureaucracy: any action that would require me having to deal with bureaucracy (like aptly named SAPS - SA Police Service) was a nightmare. Moreover, I’d have to reach out to the US bureaucracy to, first, cancel any debit/credit cards, and then also reach out to DMV – Department of Motor Vehicles – to replace my driver’s license – the common ID document in the US. On top of all of this, I was booked on a flight departing the airport in 25 minutes.
I approached two cops and asked for help. Both appeared completely dumbfounded that I’d ask for help. Their response helped me realize my wallet was gone for good. Best swallow my anger and, yes, fear, and get on with my life.
Welcome to South Africa!
I’d hired a driver to transport me to my mother’s house. At the house,  I discovered … the garden is overrun with weeds, the small pool is brewing algae, the culvert blockages continues, and that I have my hands full.
Moreover, not much of a pill popper, I discovered my OTC pills to “alleviate sleeplessness” actually help me sleep only for up to two hours. Better than nothing under conditions of jet lag, but not much better.
I took one, slept for two hours, took another, slept for another two hours, then spent the rest of the night, after 2am, awake reading library book on my cell phone.
Big day today. 

Start off with a trip to the bank to ensure local cards are cancelled, order replacements, then figure out how to deal with any fallout from that. There’s also the weedy garden strewn with debris from a fallen tree, the sludgy pool, the needy dogs, the domestic worker who hasn’t had a holiday in almost a year, and to prep for tomorrow’s meeting with the lawyer handling my mother’s estate. And whose admins have still not supplied with the address of the local office. I’ve been asking for 3 weeks.
I must get wireless connection as my cell phone – despite expensive contract - is useless in the location of this house, situated in a hollow with terrible reception. 

Argh. 

Life goes on.