EveryONE seems to hate on “criminals” (throughout human
history, I might add), and thoughtlessly throws the adjective around. Therefore, let’s start by looking at the
multiple definitions of “criminal.”
crim·i·nal
[krim-uh-nl]
adjective
1. of the nature of or
involving crime. (Note: Crimes are directly
relative to the date and status quo, and are often subject to change. For example, at one time in US history,
people of different races could not defecate on the same indoor plumbing
equipment—WTF?!!!)
2. guilty of crime. (As we ALL KNOW, some “crimes du jour” are
EVIL. You know, like the CRIME of being
JEWISH back in Nazi Germany during the early 1940’s?)
3. Law. of or pertaining to crime or its
punishment: a criminal proceeding.
(Proceeding where, may I
ask?)
4. senseless; foolish: It's criminal to
waste so much good food. (*When you can put it in a “doggie-bag” and
give it to the next hungry person you see!)
5. exorbitant; grossly overpriced: They
charge absolutely criminal prices. (REALLY, what is NOT exorbitantly
over-priced nowadays?! Does this mean
every aspect, every level of our health care system IS criminal?! Things that make you go hmmm…)
crim·i·nal
[krim-uh-nl]
noun
6.
a person guilty or convicted of a crime. (We have already established crime is
relative. Let’s not forget that JESUS
was a criminal to the Romans—and oh, what about Gandhi, Martin Luther King,
Jr., Stephen Biko, Nelson Mandela, and Aung
San Suu Kyi?! THEY were all “tried” as
“criminals” and even went to prison—Stephen Biko never even made it out of
prison!)
And as far as I know,
most people associate the Mafia with
“organized crime”, basically, employed criminals, no? And therefore, they must be BAD because they
are criminals, right? Well, in MY
experience, there are ANGELS in the MAFIA!
The Zulu Mafia (a.k.a., Operation: Who Let the Dogs Out?)
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| Marcos, Boo! (the jack russel) and Paco (the Africanized Chihuahua) |
When our dogs (Boo!
And Paco) were DOG-napped in rural Kwa Zulu Natal (*because I did not have any
children they could kid-nap!), the ONLY people who would help me were the Zulu
Mafia. At first, I went to the police.
“Ohhh, poor umlungu! Somebody take your little dogs? Boo hoo! Look around. We have car-jackings, robberies, rapes,
murders, and corruptions to investigate! We have no time for looking for
dogs.” --Hlabisa Department of Police (NOTE: The local police were correct. They did have A LOT of work and little
resources—but it STILL infuriated me!)
EveryONE I approached
from the nearest veterinarian (over 70 km away!) to local Game Park officials,
neighbors, security guards, peers and colleagues, NO ONE seemed capable, much
less concerned, in helping me safely
locate my dogs alive OR dead. I was
furious! One afternoon while
distributing home-based care medicines and supplies, I overheard some of our
caregivers (28 Zulu Grandmothers and 4 Grandfathers!) talking about a local
high school teacher rumored to be part of the “Mafia”.
“The Mafia is in
Hlabisa?! WHY in the world would the
Mafia come to Hlabisa? We aren’t even on
Google maps,” I was bewildered.
“Yes, the Zulu
Mafia,” One of the elderly staff quipped.
“What do you call
the Zulu Mafia?” I further enquired.
“The Zulu Mafia, of
course.” She replied with exasperation.
“REALLY original,
guys! I mean you name your entire tribe
Zulu, then you SPEAK Zulu, half the population shares the surname Zulu, you
live in Kwa ZULU Natal…really, you guys couldn’t come up with ANYTHING a little
more original than ‘Zulu Mafia’?!” *They
rolled their eyes in response, while I immediately set off for the high
school.
In the past, I
procured a lot of donated educational materials; school supplies for both
teachers and students; started a co-ed volleyball league (*apparently, this was
a historic event, the first time Zulu boys and girls EVER played organized
sports TOGETHER); started “Friends of the Youth” peer youth education and
outreach counselors; organized football (soccer) clinics; orchestrated a local
women’s sewing group and a leatherworks co-op (local income generation
projects) to make cheaper school uniforms and shoes for the students; and then
some—basically, I had a lot of leverage with the school, so when I asked Sqoks
(not his real name for OBVIOUS reasons and yes, it has a “click” in it) for
some assistance getting my dogs back, he responded nonchalantly, “But of
course.”
“You asked the Zulu Mafia to find the
dogs?! Are you INSANE?!” Marcos did not approve one bit.
Two mornings later,
Sqoks and three of his intimidating “colleagues” showed up at my doorstep, “We
KNOW who has the dogs. It is one of the ambulance drivers.”
“What?!” my
disbelief. “Who, where…why…HOW?!!!”
“We don’t have time,
we are going NOW to get them,” Sqoks and his men started to leave when Marcos
jumped out of the bedroom (where I assumed he was hiding), “I am going
too!” (Marcos whispered to me on his way
out, “So nothing violent happens!”) The Zulu Mafia gleefully barked, “Who let the
dogs out?” all the way to their vehicle.
As told by Marcos:
Sqoks and his “crew”
drove Marcos to one of our most rural “bush” clinics in Hlabisa district. Apparently the WIFE of the ambulance driver
(who “stole” our dogs) worked in clinic administration. Marcos said as soon as the vehicle pulled up
to the clinic and people recognized Sqoks and his crew, the long line of
patients immediately dispersed, as
well as most clinic staff. The wife,
working in her office, was easy to identify because as soon as she recognized
the Zulu Mafia and the foreign doctor (Marcos), she started sobbing and asking
for forgiveness. The Mafia ordered her
into the vehicle, “Take us to your home NOW!”
The dogs were found,
tied up, in her backyard. While Marcos
comforted and collected the dogs, the Zulu Mafia smoked cigarettes and gave
menacing looks to the wife, the neighbors peeking out their hut windows and the
ever-present livestock, “No ONE touch THIS doctor’s dogs.”
The Mexican Mafia
During the epic
“Smuggling Marcos from Africa to America--via Central America-- and on a
Shoe-string (and without rafts!) not-so-clandestino
Smuggling Adventure”, Marcos and I got
“stuck” in a MAYAN mountain-village in Guatemala (Xela, to be exact!) for
almost 3 weeks, trying to figure out how to get Marcos (ILLEGALLY) into Mexico. By the time we left Guatemala, every single
person in that village KNEW we were trying to get into Mexico AND were trying
to help us. Finally, we were introduced
to the Mexican Mafia.
SCENE:
Tea with the Mexican Mafia
KITCHEN in a typical
MEXICAN HOUSE– DAY
MEXICAN MAFIA,
MARCOS and KELLY sip tea while discussing how to get MARCOS past MEXICAN BORDER
PATROL at the Tapachula border crossing.
*Of course, I am not going to TELL you just how we did it! But it
clearly worked!
Thank you to our
angels in the Mafia.
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| Thank you from the Goofy Guru! |
LIVE your bliss,
The Goofy Guru
