After my car was hijacked at gun point, I told the story the other day, I saw it a few days later, about three days, driving out of the compound that was called 13, there in Soweto opposite Diepkloof hostel, while in a taxi coming from town, going the opposite direction!!! 😭😂 It still had the same registration number. It was a brand new maroon Golf 3. You wouldn't miss it. I knew I wasn't dreaming. I saw it was my car, with the same registration!! I froze. 😭 I'm in a taxi, heading to Senoane, to Lulama, my friend's place. I had slept there the night of the hijacking, and decided to spend sometime being comforted by Lulama and her family. At work they gave me compassionate leave. So that day I had gone to town to sort out a few things. Came back quickly, it must have been midday. There was my car, turning to the direction of town, on-ramping to the freeway. I couldn't say anything to the driver or to anyone. I just felt weak, helpless and paralyzed. I mean it would have seemed like I'm crazy if I said "driver, there's my stolen car". 🤭😂 I just had a lump in my throat and cried when I got to Lulama's place. Telling them "haibo Lulama, I just my car iphuma e13!!" The cellphones were still arriving during that time, and mine went with the car anyway. I called the police station in Jabulani where I opened the case using Lulama's home landline. I told them "I just saw my car leaving 13 just now, 30 minutes ago!!" All the Officer could say was "Where sisi, are you sure it was the one?" 🤦🏽‍♀️😅 It was obviously a futile exercise. These buggers didn't even bother to change or remove the number plates. 😒 I suspect the police were already involved during those years in car hijackings. So ja, crime and stealing of cars has been with us for many years. Those of us who survived such ordeals are just grateful to God that we lived to tell the tales. Many were not so lucky. 😢🙏🏽❤️