Whenever I wonder what the hell I'm doing here, this picture reminds me. They put barbed wire up around my house. It was the last straw.
I remember the night before. It was late, dark. A frantic ringing of our doorbell, pleas for help. Three young guys and a dog from the house two doors up. They had been watching television, when one of them spotted three black guys crawling in through one of the bedroom windows.
They picked up their cellphones, their dog, and left the house immediately, locking it behind them.
Within minutes everyone in the complex was awake, the security company was on the scene. The intruders had already beaten a retreat.
The next day the three young men moved out. But not before the homeowner's association had decided on the barbed wire.
We already had electric fencing, a high wall, security gates and alarms.
Our home was already a prison.
And there are questions. Why did the intruders choose the home of three young, strong men, all under thirty, one of whom worked for a security company? In the house next door, an old woman of 80 was all alone, a much easier target.
The questions were never answered. But the barbed wire went up. We had retreated into the laager.