The Day, part 1, An Original Story

                                                                                                                                            November 16

Everyone left has a name for the day when the world as we knew it ended and never would be the same. Some call it the change, others refer to it as z day or even zero day. Me? I simply call it the day. Not many people throughout history can say they saw the clear demarcated line of when such a drastic transformation of society occurred, regardless of the country or continent you were on. Us survivors can though. Been there, done that and it’s nothing to brag about.

The thing is though, where I was when it all went down. Somehow I ended up in Lima, Peru when they took over, a very foreign place compared to my small town Oklahoma upbringing. How did I end up here? Chasing a girl that’s how. Anna Maria was in Tulsa on a temporary work visa when I met her. She was beautiful and fun and exotic and I convinced myself that I was in love with her. So when her time was up and she returned to Peru I decided that she was the one and the only thing I could do was to follow her.

There I was, fresh off the airplane in a foreign country where I barely spoke the language and the culture was so incredibly different from the one I was raised in. I was out of my depth, my element, but none of that mattered. I was here for love and nothing else mattered dammit. Once Anna Maria saw me the rest of the details would fall into place. I mean, she’d have to be flattered right? A gringo like me following her all these miles, sorry, kilometers. would break through any doubts she could have. Or so I thought.

The thing is I had blinded myself to reality. Anna Maria did not return my feelings which clearly weren’t love no matter how much I tried to believe it to be true. When I showed up at her house she was shocked but not in a good way. She admitted that while she had fun with me in the States she didn’t have any feelings for me at all. As a matter of fact she had a fiancé that she intended to marry and he was inside the house right then. For my personal safety she advised me to vaminos before he caught wind to my presence.

Heartbroken I retreated to the hostel I had spent the night in and there several fellow travelers helped console me by giving me large and copious amounts of alcohol, not that it was a good thing. I paid for it dearly later both physically and emotionally. When I had left home I had sold my car and pretty much everything else I owned and had left the lease on my house early incurring the loss of my deposit and the wrath of my landlord. She blessed me with many interesting curses as well as threats of a lawsuit. Who could care though? I was leaving the country for good.

None of that stuff mattered. I was in love. Except that I really wasn’t. I just thought I was. Now that my foolishness had been painfully shattered I was at a complete loss about what to do with my life. With my leaving as quickly as I did and not thinking things through I realized that I had no plan for how to make a living or how get things done in this foreign land. Like I said, I barely spoke the damn language. Could I even go back home to the shame and ridicule I would surely be showered with from friends, family and enemies alike?

I’m far too stubborn for that so leaving was not an option. I’d just have to make the best of the situation. Surely there was some way I could earn some money regularly so that I could feed and house myself. It couldn’t be that hard could it? Well, yes it could as it turned out. The next two weeks were a constant struggle for me. The food was like nothing I was used to. Anytime somebody spoke English I latched onto them like a drowning man to a life jacket. In short, I was rather pathetic. At least until I met Carsten, a fellow expat, albeit one from a different country. He was from Denmark but spoke excellent English.

Carsten took pity on me and decided to show me the ropes of Peru. I met him one day in Barranco as I stumbled around trying to find a restaurant I could feel comfortable eating in. Over the next few days we would meet up for lunch and he would inform me about things that were important to see like Pachacamac. We talked of local customs and how not to offend Peruvians through either negligence or accident. Carsten even helped me find a room to rent for an affordable price and then gave me some leads on where I could teach English.

Things were definitely looking up for me though I was heartbroken and overwhelmed. Well, at least they were until the day happened that is. After that nothing was looking up for anybody least of all me. I’d best stop for now. Soon night will fall and though we still have electricity we don’t dare use it. Noise and light will only draw them to us and that is something no survivor wants to happen. I’ll continue when I have a chance. There’s a lot of work to be done during the daylight hours. We have to scavenge food, water, medical supplies and anything else we think can be used. I think it’s necessary to document our days though. Perhaps in the future it could help someone. At least I can dream of that.

Written and Published by Don Leach. May not be used without permission from the author.

The Robbery That Wasn't

My wife had a scare this past week which is a roundabout way of saying that I also had a scare this past week. She took our son to school and then went to her English class and after leaving went to the store to buy some sillao which is soy sauce. She prefers the Peruvian kind if she can get it. Once she got to the store she discovered that her purse was missing and she went into a panic. Convinced that somebody had stolen it out of her car at the school she raced home and woke me from my fitful slumber to deliver the bad news.

I asked her where she had last seen it and she said she had it at the Hobby Lobby the night before but she knew that she had left it in her car afterwards. Leaving her purse in the car has been her standard procedure and many times I've spoken to her about how it's inviting someone to steal it. Now I told her that she needed to go back to the school and call the police to file a report. As she left I started compiling a list of who we had to notify and what we had to replace. Important things like the credit card company and the bank were at the top of the list but other things were important as well. Her drivers license, her social security card and more were all in there.

She didn't come back to quickly so I was sure that the police had came and were taking her report. After a bit longer she showed back up with a sheepish look on her face and I knew that it had been found. At the school she found out that her car was parked in a blind spot for the cameras so that was no help. Once the police came and took her report she decided to go to the Hobby lobby store that she had been to and, you guessed it, they had her purse.

The night before while there our son had needed help zipping up his coat and she lad laid her purse down  to help him. She the proceeded to walk out not realizing that she hadn't picked her purse back up. Against all odds nothing was missing which was a major blessing. After it was all over we were able to laugh about it but I made sure to make clarify the dangers in leaving her purse in her car like that, not that I think it will make any difference. Perhaps at least she'll make sure it can't be seen.

The truth is there really isn't much anyone could get from robbing us, we're that bad off. Of course in our current predicament financially anything we lost would be hard to overcome. Later that night I started thinking about how little interaction I actually have had with thieves and robbers in my life. In my forty-eight years on this planet I can only think of two instances when something along those lines has occurred and both have been since I married my wife. Does this mean I assign some kind of blame to her? Of course not, it just worked out the way it did.

The first was right after we got married. We were living in her apartment intending to only stay until we found something better. She had already had a problem with someone with a key entering her apartment and stealing small amounts of money (mostly from a cup of coins) but we thought we had fixed that problem by keeping the front door locked and installing a padlock on the back door. That way only we had the key to it. It worked for a while until one night after coming home from work we found that the thief had jimmied the lock open in the bathroom window, crawled in, and made off with her laptop as well as the camcorder we had bought to film our wedding with. Then he or she had left through the much larger bedroom window.

To top it off her jerk landlord refused to believe that it had happened from one of his employees (relatives) and basically accused us of faking it. It was all I could do to restrain myself from punching him out and I think he realized he had crossed a line so he dropped his point and left quickly. Needless to say my wife no longer felt safe in that apartment and we got out as soon as we could.

My second encounter with a thief occurred in the house that we bought and currently live in. It was somewhere around three years after the previous break in and my wife came home with our then less than a year old son to find that we were the victims of a burglary. Some scumbag had busted our door in and grabbed what turned out to be mainly things that had sentimental value. He was in and out more than likely in less than five minutes.

The hard to take thing is that our neighbor saw the perpetrator exiting our driveway with what turned out to be one of our pillowcases stuffed with our belongings. She give the info to the police and they did basically nothing, probably because she didn't see him leaving the house and couldn't one hundred percent identify him. I know, it's a garbage excuse from them but honestly I didn't expect much in the first place. The powers that be in Tulsa have more important things for the police to do, like give out speeding tickets.

So there you have it, my life experience with getting robbed (so far). Two burglaries, no holdups, no car break-ins and nothing stolen from my desk at work, at least that I can recall. After all, I am getting old and my memory isn't quite what it used to be. That sound you hear is me furiously knocking on wood hoping that I haven't jinxed myself.

Written and Published by Don Leach. May not be used without permission from the author.