The Grinch Who Stole Christmas

As I begin this tale of dastardly criminals and expert detective work I would like to say that this in no way should be a reflection of all the people in this wonderful country or of my total experience thus far.

It all began three months ago when a package from the USA arrived at the post office in my fair town missing some of its key ingredients, namely a t-shirt of great significance to its owner. Like many people who receive packages that have obviously been ransacked for their superior goods and delicious trail mix she chalked up to those villainous South Africans who are the first to reap the bounty.

Flash forward to last week Monday. A few of us were sitting at the local internet provider watching paint dry while our respective pages loaded and who should appear but a man wearing the very t-shirt that had gone missing from that fateful package. And since this was no ordinary t-shirt but a shirt uniquely crafted in the north of Americas most beloved state, Michigan. After a brief period of shock we pursued the man in question but turns out that he was aware that we were aware that he was wearing stolen goods.

In come the two boys that I sent out to chase this bumbling thief who had the audacity to wear a shirt that he stole in the sleepy town that he stole it from. Although they did not apprehend him they did find out where he was going and who he was. He was a postal worker and he was headed 5k up the hill to the Great North Road to wait for the postal bus. In reality he lived at the Serenje turnoff from the fore mentioned road and went to change his clothes.

So the three of us got on transport to chase him down—doing so in the most dramatic Charlie’s Angels way. He somehow managed to elude us at the turnoff but what he didn’t know is that we were the modern day Nancy Drew sleuth squad and already knew his next step: to go back to the post office.

Now you can begin to imagine to dramatic scene, three white women—two of which were still in pajama pants—marching towards the post office with fury dripping from our lips, the man in question nervously fumbling with keys. (Directors note, I think a slow-motion shot with a great theme song would be more than appropriate in the motion picture reenactment of this triumphant scene.) The dialogue that transpired during the encounter was long and circular, with the Grinch refusing to return the item because he was the only person working and us issuing the ultimatum that he either return it or we will be bringing in the police.

Since he refused to cooperate we went across the street—while I tailed him to make sure that he didn’t run—and told the police of our plight. The police came and after a brief discussion they hitched a ride up to his residence to retrieve the shirt—or so we thought. Being that he is quite a crafty criminal he brought back a shirt that he claimed was the shirt belonging to us that was not the shirt belonging to us. Touché sir, touché.

Well it got long, ugly, and rather boring after that so to sum up now I get to appear as a witness in my first court case. The shirt, I think, is lost forever, but we are American and were running on principle here. We are sending a message; a message of freedom and a message that says don’t steal the trail mix, pop CD’s, or high school memorabilia that cost quadruple its value to send over here.

And with that message of hope and freedom I will end this update.

By the way, I’m fine and finding my work equally rewarding, as it is frustrating.

This post is a little late in the scheme of things, but I haven't had internet in a long long long time. Stay tuned though because I'm in the land of "everything at my fingertips" for the next while and I'll be posting as much a I can.