wayfaringwordhack: (hellville)
A propos of my last post, here is a video via [livejournal.com profile] frigg that shows a glimpse of a campaign to educate people here about sexual harassment:

wayfaringwordhack: (hellville)
Sooooo, an icky thing happened in the park today.

Under a cut to spare sensitive souls.

Close encounter with the weirdo kind )

wayfaringwordhack: (hellville)
 Due to getting porn spam links on LJ entries--ones with photos of my infant daughter no less--I'm disallowing anonymous comments on my blog.  Sorry to the real people who visit and who don't have an account.  If the spammers start using accounts, I'll proceed to locking my entries.

Kind of sad that this is my second LJ sucks post in a week...
wayfaringwordhack: (moi)
 This evening, I went for a walk, taking my camera along in hopes of getting some nice sunflower photos. While I was standing in a field, near the road, an old man drove by, very slowly. I smiled at him and went about my business of photographing bees.  A few minutes later, as I was stepping back onto the road, he drove by again, just as slowly.  I ignored him and turned down a dirt road toward the sunflower fields.  

Perhaps 30 minutes later, I returned to the paved road and headed home. I saw the car again in the driveway of a dilapidated shed and garden plot.  The man saw me, too, and instead of pulling out of the drive and going on his way, he inched his car forward and then stopped, watching me.  He finally gained the road and drove away, but he was so intent on spying on me that his passenger side tires were rolling on the grass. 

Not caring for his nosiness, I stopped to take pics of some kind of burr to put some distance between us.  The strange man crept down Crow Alley, his brake lights constantly flashing as he tried to keep an eye on me. Finally, he pulled over and, after a moment, did a u-turn.  He passed me again just as I was entering Crow Alley and drove back to his garden plot.

So, was he spying on me for spying's sake or was he suspicious of me, thinking that I was really out to get something from his property (even though I didn't even pause or give it a second glance)?  These are some signs that he has posted, which I photographed on another of my walks, so he obviously has a paranoid streak:


Beware Traps Danger

The thieves who took the wood were seen?  Beware? (Yes, the French is equally awkward)

Either way, he made me uncomfortable, and I'm going to vary my walking times and circuit in hopes of avoiding him in the future.
wayfaringwordhack: (Maki World Domination)
  A good ear and fitfull sleep ("thanks" to my illness) are what helped me hear the would-be burglars who just tried to break into our house. They are the reason I'm not a-bed and a-dreaming at 1:50 a.m. 

We forgot to lock the front gate tonight--and, come to think of it, for the past few nights (getting complacent as the end draws nigh)--and I heard it opening oh-so-softly. I leaped out of bed and saw a kid--in his early teens--stepping out into the street.

My "Hey, what do you think you're doing here? Julien, wake up!" sent him and his cohort-in-the-shadows scrambling. The one I saw was in a yellow shirt (polo t-shirt, I believe) and light-colored (probably white) capri-style pants. I'm too tired to think of what those pants are called when a guy is wearing them. :P Anyhow, Yellow Shirt bolted down the street, jumped on the bicycle he'd left parked on the corner, and zipped away, while Cohort kept to the shadows and hightailed it up the ravine of the Vigie.

Julien called the gendarmes and asked them to alert any patrol cars they have out. We expect nothing to come of that. A quick tour of the yard showed the thwarted thieves hadn't had time to take anything. Our laundry would have been the most they got in any case.
wayfaringwordhack: (Maki World Domination)
For those of you who don't know, J mostly works evenings, though the specific hours of his shifts change. This cycle it is 7pm-6am.

For those of you who don't know, I'm not afraid to spend the night by myself. But sometimes, things happen that make me wish he was not out on the moondark seas, unable to come swiftly back when I need him. Last night was one such time.

I was sitting tranquilly on my sofa, reading [livejournal.com profile] rabiagale's wonderful ms, The Changeling, my back to the wide-open window and the quiet Halloween night. I heard footfalls and then, "Bonsoir," spoken in a low, breathy, creep-me-out, don't-turn-around-and-look voice. Mayotte is 98% Muslim. I don't know if they've ever heard of Halloween, much less participate in it, so I knew the voice was no prank. I didn't turn around.

But sitting there as I was, in only my pareo tied around my chest, leaving my shoulders, back, and a good amount of leg exposed, I very much wanted to jump up and shut the shutters and lock the door. I waited a few moments. No footsteps receded into the night. I picked up the phone and pretended to call someone. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a man standing outside my walled porch, looking over his shoulder at me. He whistled. Not the, Hey, Sexy! whistle, but the soft, secret code kind. I carried on the phone charade for a minute or so, taking things into the kitchen (open plan and gives a view out onto the street) saying, Yes, she's here. blah, blah, blah.

Still, the man outside didn't move on.

Well, that's not quite true. He did move. To the other side of the narrow street where he could look baldly into the house. Not wanting to give the impression I was afraid, I "hung up" and casually went over to shut the shutters. He whistled again, a bit more urgently. I did not like that one little bit. After securing the shutters, I turned the key in the lock as quietly as I could, still not wanting him to think he had cowed me. I listened for several minutes, but couldn't hear him walk away. Thinking he might have been signaling someone to go over my back wall, I went and put on a t-shirt and shorts. The better to run or fight in. Yeah, call me paranoid.

I gave the guy fifteen minutes to get bored and then turned on the porch light and went outside to bolt the gate leading onto our porch. Not a soul was in sight. Our night-owl neighbors were all a-bed. Not even a stray cat could be seen.

I hurried back inside and bolted all three locks. I tried to stay awake until J got home, but gave up the fight at 2:30. By three I was asleep, knowing I was so tired that if anyone wanted to sneak in, I probably wouldn't even stir.

But this morning, the jangle of the padlock on the porch woke me at a few minutes before six. My wubs had come at last.

I survived my first Halloween on Mayotte.


wayfaringwordhack: (Default)

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