Tiba: african vigilantism

I am exhausted when I get back to Rabula. All I want to do is sleep and let the rest seep into my bones to help me make sense of all that has happened in the past 24 hours. I quickly check in with those I’m staying with to let them know I am back safely. I can see the anger and determination in the eyes of my friends. I am told that another house was also robbed and that a couple of community meetings had already been held in attempt to address the situation.

There are a couple of suspects. It is understood that the person or persons responsible had to be from the village, that is the only way one would know that the homes would be vacant. In addition, somebody from another village just doesn’t have means to travel this far. The whole community was infuriated. While I was getting the police involved, there was a dramatic community response to the events that occurred. I’m touched, and a little unnerved, with the active intervention. I gently probe into this whole African vigilante justice thing.

I guess it comes with rural living where everybody knows everybody else, even across fairly wide geography. One’s reputation and status in the community is the most important asset available to one. In addition, the African family is by no means the nuclear family of the United States. The sense of family, and family responsibilities, extends both to those who share community space as well as those who share ancestral genealogy. An offense to one in the community is considered a violation to the community itself.

Justice is exposing the wrong-doer and subjecting him or her to a diminished reputation…and probably a bit of whipping as well. All of this makes my head spin and I insist on going to bed to try to reconcile all that has happened. My head dreamily hits the pillow and I am out like a light for the rest of the night.