The weekend nightmare

Saturday, 11:30pm. The weekend nightmare began rather inconspicuously by a few loud noises of glass breaking outside. No one in the household suspected anything, because it was near the city council’s hard waste disposal day, and as per usual there are many fossickers moving about during day and night. Someone must have dropped something.

Sunday, 10:30am. The horror of the waking nightmare struck us like a spear making a hole in our heads – or, making holes in our car. As I was about to leave home for my usual daily mice injections, mum’s distressed voice brought me quickly to the driveway. And there it was – the rear window forming a mosaic of thousands of tiny pieces of glass, surrounding two big holes, the inside of which dangles the broken layer of tint... it was sunny and warm, with white fluffy clouds decorating a beautiful blue sky... with a long slit on the left side of the rear window, completely detached from the frame except at the bottom and top... and the street was cheerful and clean, with a row of red roofs and green lawns neatly lined up on each side... except a rear light cover completely smashed, no where to be seen... leaving only a comfortable, gentle breeze caressing our faces, and greeting the street where no one else seemed to be there.

Sunday, 11:50am. The next thing I knew, I was at the police station, sympathetically nodding at the constable, who was too busy for half an hour first, and then complained that this had been the 16th case around the local area this morning, and that there would be more to come.
“Collingwood supporters, they must be.” He said in disgust.
At my raised eyebrows he added, “They just lost yesterday.”
“Oh,sorry.” I sincerely apologised, “I don’t follow footy.”
“Well, I don’t follow Collingwood anyway.”

Sunday, 12:00 pm. On Springvale Rd looking for a Car Repair Service that is not closed on Sundays, but didn’t have any luck.
“I don’t want to go to Yarra Honda for the repairs, how expensive would that be!” says mum.
“But insurance will pay.”
“ – after we pay $500 excess first, and then have raised premium next year. If a glass window costs less than $500 elsewhere then I won’t go through insurance.”
“Plus the rear light. And the tint.”
“How much would this cost anyway?”
“Why did they target us? None of our neighbours’ cars got smashed.”
“If they catch the people would we get compensation?”
“Unlikely, according to the police officer. Most of these people have no money and no job to begin with.”
If driving with no rear view was a bit scary on big roads, parking and backing out would be like walking backwards with eyes closed.
“This is not very safe. We should get it fixed ASAP.”
“And another thing, mum, you can’t park and then leave the car like this. Especially not on the street like you normally do for work.”
“Then what the hell am I supposed to do?”

Sunday, 5:15pm. I’m sitting in the train towards Glen Waverley. The sun has began to set, turning the white clouds into grey and gold, and the warmth into coolness. My head feels slightly tight and heavy, as if someone has put an iron helmet that doesn’t quite fit on it. I am thinking of the many times at late night, when I felt my heart pounding fast at the sight of a shifty looking person at the tram stop, the only person waiting there other than me. I am thinking of the drunk people singing, swearing and screaming loudly on Friday night trains, beer bottles flinging in their hands. I am thinking of of the dim-lit residential streets nearby, deserted and haunted by only the howling trees in the winds. And then I am thinking of those paranoid news reports of violent crimes in Melbourne, bloodied murders and rapes, youth gangs attacking people... And then I begin to feel homesick, a feeling that has been there constantly, but never as much and as intense as now. I miss the days when I would walk in our residential block at midnight, when there was no street light and I could barely see anything, yet there was no sense of danger... I miss the summers when it would be past 10pm and the streets would still be full of people, families sitting on the kerbs of footpaths enjoying icy poles, men and women strolling along with their dogs, neighbours chatting away, primary school children playing badminton with their parents on the footpaths... I miss the days when the only insecurity I felt was towards the pickpocketers on buses and in subways, and I miss that place called Beijing where the notion of a youth gang consisted of some of my rebellious classmates who would gang up and skate on roads at 2am in the morning, or that when they get into a fight they would pull knives through each other but would never hurt anyone else who was not involved. In fact, I would consider many of them my friends by the day.

Of course, I’m sure, malicious assault and property damage do happen on a regular basis in Beijing, as it does in Melbourne. But for a city of 13 million permanent residents 8 million temporary dwellers, violent crimes are such a rare occurrence per capita. For Melbourne’s low population density, the amount of insecurity per capita is truly something I am uncomfortable with. There are times when I am totally sick and tired of this place, and today is one such day.