Thick as Thieves
Last month I had already briefly mentioned 'stealing' in my blog, but today I wanted to put that into a global context, and how that differs in each culture.
Growing up in the west, stealing is as common there as anywhere, with no real moral restrictions. If the opportunity is there, anything is fair game – cars, valuables in houses, money, you name it. Shoplifting, I understand, is still pretty common among teens, although much, much more difficult these days, what with modern security devices acting in unison with shop detectives to squish any criminal intent anybody might have. People there are taught to lock up things, and if it got stolen - well, tough luck, you should have added an extra chain and padlock.
When I first arrived in Morocco as a Peace Corps Volunteer, I knew Mr. Whitey O'White (me) would be an instant target and that I would have to practice as many precautions as I could if I wanted to keep the few possessions I had. Every volunteer back then was issued a bicycle with a helmet and the whole nine.
One thing they did not issue was a lock. Not good, I was thinking.
Looks like I would have to haul my bike with me wherever I went if I couldn't find a lock. One of the first days at my site in Beni Mellal, I remember cycling into town and making a stop at the post office, where my mandate (living allowance, money) was waiting for me. I looked around and didn't know where to keep my bike or whether I should just take it inside with me.
A group of men sitting on the stairs nearby was seemingly amused at my plight and laughingly pointed in my direction. Finally one of them stood up and walked over to Mr. O'White and said in Arabic (I will not forget this as long as I live):
Joya (Brother), this city has thousands of eyes, Believe me, your bike is more than safe here. Trust me, I will watch your bike.
What would you do in the States or Europe if a perfect stranger offered you his help like this? Exactly, your head would be rolling toward the gutter after you laughed it off. But there was something about this guy that was so genuine that I left the bike right there, knowing it would be back after I waited in line in the post office for a half hour.
Of course, when I came back the bike was stolen. Just kidding, of course it was still there. I have yet to meet anybody more fundamentally trustworthy than Muslims. In both Morocco and Jordan, it was amazing how you could always trust Arabs with material things. Faith to Allah here was a powerful deterrent. That, and having your hand cut off should you be convicted of stealing.
Later in Asia, stealing was generally frowned upon, but often absolutely necessary, due to the miserable poverty a lot of people found themselves in, especially in places like Kathmandu. Here it was steal to survive or die. Not a hard choice, really, regardless of what Vishnu or Buddha might have ever taught.
Here in South America, it is like in the west. Give a man an opportunity to steal, and more than not he'll take it. The other week I heard a telephone line was stolen. Yep, a phone line. The guy climbed up that wooden pole, unfastened the line that ran for hundreds of yards and took it home with him.
Bolivia, still the poorest country in South America, not surprisingly has the most thefts too, and yet I am still sure they are no better or worse than western countries in that field. Maybe the difference is too insignificant too register. Or maybe it was stolen.
Growing up in the west, stealing is as common there as anywhere, with no real moral restrictions. If the opportunity is there, anything is fair game – cars, valuables in houses, money, you name it. Shoplifting, I understand, is still pretty common among teens, although much, much more difficult these days, what with modern security devices acting in unison with shop detectives to squish any criminal intent anybody might have. People there are taught to lock up things, and if it got stolen - well, tough luck, you should have added an extra chain and padlock.
When I first arrived in Morocco as a Peace Corps Volunteer, I knew Mr. Whitey O'White (me) would be an instant target and that I would have to practice as many precautions as I could if I wanted to keep the few possessions I had. Every volunteer back then was issued a bicycle with a helmet and the whole nine.
One thing they did not issue was a lock. Not good, I was thinking.
Looks like I would have to haul my bike with me wherever I went if I couldn't find a lock. One of the first days at my site in Beni Mellal, I remember cycling into town and making a stop at the post office, where my mandate (living allowance, money) was waiting for me. I looked around and didn't know where to keep my bike or whether I should just take it inside with me.
A group of men sitting on the stairs nearby was seemingly amused at my plight and laughingly pointed in my direction. Finally one of them stood up and walked over to Mr. O'White and said in Arabic (I will not forget this as long as I live):
Joya (Brother), this city has thousands of eyes, Believe me, your bike is more than safe here. Trust me, I will watch your bike.
What would you do in the States or Europe if a perfect stranger offered you his help like this? Exactly, your head would be rolling toward the gutter after you laughed it off. But there was something about this guy that was so genuine that I left the bike right there, knowing it would be back after I waited in line in the post office for a half hour.
Of course, when I came back the bike was stolen. Just kidding, of course it was still there. I have yet to meet anybody more fundamentally trustworthy than Muslims. In both Morocco and Jordan, it was amazing how you could always trust Arabs with material things. Faith to Allah here was a powerful deterrent. That, and having your hand cut off should you be convicted of stealing.
Later in Asia, stealing was generally frowned upon, but often absolutely necessary, due to the miserable poverty a lot of people found themselves in, especially in places like Kathmandu. Here it was steal to survive or die. Not a hard choice, really, regardless of what Vishnu or Buddha might have ever taught.
Here in South America, it is like in the west. Give a man an opportunity to steal, and more than not he'll take it. The other week I heard a telephone line was stolen. Yep, a phone line. The guy climbed up that wooden pole, unfastened the line that ran for hundreds of yards and took it home with him.
Bolivia, still the poorest country in South America, not surprisingly has the most thefts too, and yet I am still sure they are no better or worse than western countries in that field. Maybe the difference is too insignificant too register. Or maybe it was stolen.
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