Cosima Underwater

It’s strange. I feel infinitely more secure here than I felt in Dubai. We moved in our house about a week ago. I love the house. It’s surrounded by jungle on two sides, the neighbors are nice, it’s comfortable but not pretentious.

I am sure we made a ruckus when we moved in. Hundreds of boxes, lots of men hoisting stuff up to the second floor. Everyone noticed that we arrived.

A few days ago, I hung laundry on the roof top terrace (sweeping views of the mountains and the sea). I looked at the banana trees of my neighbor at the hill behind my house. They looked beautiful. I heard a noise. I looked more intently. There were two men among the banana trees. One looked me straight into the eyes.

He was surprised and afraid. Then he and his mate hurried off, up the hill.

“What was that about?” I thought. Why are they hurrying off? Were they stealing bananas? Yeah. Ok. They were stealing bananas.

There were other strange little signs: a reclining chair in a different place on the terrace, strange marks in the wet ground in the garden.

Then yesterday in the morning I came downstairs. I was greeted by  “We have been robbed!” Now all the little strange signs made sense.

They came in through the sliding door on the first floor balcony (easy to open), went downstairs, took two laptops, mobile phones, wallets, and a few backpacks to carry the loot away. Then they exited through the kitchen window. Ten days after we moved in. Welcome!

They had observed us for a few days, found the easiest way in, made a quick sweep while we were snoring loudly.

None of the loot was strictly mine. It belonged to little man (laptop and school backpack) and his father (laptop, mobile phones, wallets, backpack). Which makes me think. I am more paranoid. I had a strange feeling. I am more careful. My stuff was not lying around.

I had, and still have, a very good feeling about the house, despite the fact that burglars went into our house in the wee hours and robbed us while we were asleep.

But I also had a feeling of paranoia, a feeling of being observed since we moved in. Call it female intuition. So my laptop and my mobile phone were beside my bed, not downstairs, and my wallet was in a drawer, not lying open on the dining table. It was just a feeling, nothing concrete.

We called the police. Neighbors asked what was going on, and we learned that it is fairly common. Gangs of men come by boat from Mainland China to Hong Kong. They set up tent camps in the nature reserves and spy on houses in the more rural, out of the way areas of Hong Kong. We were easy picking. Just moved in, inexperienced, no curtains yet, sliding doors not yet secured. The economy is bad, Chinese New Year is coming up (gifts to give), thresholds are low.

Now we know that our neighbors have been robbed too (some of them several times).

The result is an arms race. How can we secure our houses? Neighbor up the hill has turned his house into Fort Knox. More locks, a security system, cameras.

I wish we could leave the doors open. I wish people would respect our belongings. The loss of money is bad, but worse is the loss of privacy and the hassle. Some people draw their curtains very tight. I wish I could leave the terrace door and curtains open and not worry.

In Dubai no one robbed our house, but much worse things happened. It’s the story of little man’s father, who had terrible experiences in his workplace. I am only the third party witness, but I think he could turn his experience into a John Grisham book… and it would become a bestseller.
Here in Hong Kong we called the police. We had no hesitation  about calling the police. They came and asked us what had happened. They looked for and found fingerprints. We were the victims and had absolutely no fear to be turned into the culprits. In Dubai, after all what happened there, we would have carefully thought about the pro and cons of calling the police. I think we would have decided against it.

I feel infinitely more secure here, and that feeling of security makes me feel at home. I know who to turn to. Calling 999 means help.

The year in Dubai was not a positive experience, but it taught me what to be thankful of. Hong Kong is a much better place.