Reflections by Stephen Coats based on the memoirs of Nancy Coats
I will never forget the day when I was only 5 years old and I tried to look an alleged thief in the eyes as he evaded my gaze, shackled and chained in the back a police pickup truck. Almost something out of an old cowboy movie, the memory is a vivid picture in my mind. After a two-week search, this perpetrator had been arrested for breaking into and robbing our home in Sana’a, just a year into our adventures of living in Yemen. Much like the shame I felt when I got caught propping up glass shards in the middle of street, this man was in a terrible position and I could not help but feel compassion for him. I also felt fearful, knowing that someone had forcefully invaded the security of our home.
My mom recounts the details of the robbery in her memoirs from Friday, August 10, 1977. We had been worshiping at our small international church service that morning, and had arrived home to a fresh crime scene:
…We walked in the door and Tim [my older brother] went to get a drink, and the refrigerator was open. I walked in and saw it, and the freezer door open as well. I ran to the bedroom and sure enough the robbers had gone through our bedroom shelf and taken about 100 Yemeni Rials…
…They came in through Sara’s [my older sister] window. They chiseled away the stone below one of the metal bars and then slipped it out and crawled through. They really only messed up our bedroom and didn’t take any of the small appliances, only money, our Mother Theresa Rials, and my Grandmother’s watch that I brought along for a spare in case mine quit. My jewelry is mostly costume stuff and they didn’t take any of it, but threw it all over. They ripped open every box and then dumped things out. They found my purse in the dining room and took the money I had in there, too.
About 2 weeks after the robbery the police came and brought some watches for us to look at. They had Grandma’s watch. There was an inscription on the back so it was easy to identify. They had the alleged thief chained in the back of a small pickup truck. Seems they had caught him and got back some of our belongings.
bedroom window
The next morning, we had to go to the police station to confront the alleged culprit. We gave them our list of stolen items again and they were going to look for the rest of them. It was kind of eerie. While we were in the captain’s office, they brought the alleged robber in and sat him down and asked him about the other things. He had shackles on his feet. He looked absolutely miserable, such unhappy eyes, but not really repentant. Rumor has it, it was customary for the authorities to cut off the hand of a convicted thief, but we’re not sure if that did happen to this man, and we never did see our money again…
As I reflect on this event, I realize that there are good and bad people in every community. Thieves are universal, and will often do drastic things to get out of desperate circumstances. I thank God nobody got hurt. The Yemeni authorities worked efficiently and professionally to resolve the issue quickly. As American foreigners in Sana’a, we stood out as potentially easy and lucrative targets. The Yemeni value for honor and justice became clear to me as a child—that an alleged criminal must come face to face with the people he victimized! This leaves me to wonder: What do immigrants living in this country perceive to be important values reflected in me, and in my community?
