I can see the bandits. Can’t you. -- Pic by AFP

I AM robbed once again. Four years ago in October, when I first experienced the horror, chronicle it I did in this space. It was overwhelming and enfeebling.

Some readers did not understand my ordeal. They sympathised with me, but probably for the wrong reason.

It was probably my fault that the kind souls misunderstood. The 'brutality' of the crime had relieved me of clarity too. No? But this did I write then: "I went down on my knees on the hard earth and began to shriek. Stinky and sweaty hands fell on me. My breathing became laboured and my chest tightened. I did not want to open my eyes for it burnt with terror and tears."

The latest robbery occurred a few days after Aug 31. The bandits did not strike and leave. They struck and struck again, and left me little time to breathe.

I had only just opened the front door. It was an instant attack. The swarmed passed the two cars resting in the porch, over the little pots and raggedy plants, and fell upon me in a heap to disgusting to describe.

Cry out I did not, for they were as swift as the wind and my voice was lost in their suffocating grip.

But I wept inside. My heart was drowning in torrid torment.

The bandits, though, did not hurt only me. They were cruel. They rushed through the air like arrows into my neighbours' houses and did their worst.

As it was in the first robbery four years ago, so it is in the robbery in the present day. The rulers of the land cannot do much against this band of marauders, collectively called the haze, for they are driven by forces beyond control.

The haze, made by man and woman, robs you and me of pleasant hours and beautiful days. It is created because commerce and a certain breed of humans need to live and thrive in one place. It is despised because it makes living so much harder in other places.

So we will be robbed again and again. Thus is our fate.

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