We got scammed.

That’s what you’re supposed to say. They took advantage of us. We let our guard down.

And it is part of the human experience. We’ve all had a wallet stolen, a car stereo lifted, or an apartment broken into. It feels terrible—violating is the word often used.

And it happened to us.

We were using an ATM in Cape Town and were trying to add some money to a bus card. We’d never loaded a bus card at an ATM before—we’re traveling and this bus system is especially unique. And a guy offered to help. I figured he could see we were struggling with it. We were just planning to load the card with cash, so we said sure.

In no more than 5 minutes, he had spun a web so effective I’d pulled two different ATM cards from my wallet and punched in our PIN code, trying to hide it under my hand of course, all with him standing next to me. By that time more guys had shown up, corroborating his story and advice, so what had started as one guy offering his help had become 5 or 6 guys in a coordinated operation.

And they were good.

Once they had what they needed they were immediately off and running, both cards and PIN in hand. I still don’t know how exactly. Within a few more minutes they had as much cash withdrawn as modern banks allow, and we were stunned.

It wasn’t supposed to happen to us. We fancy ourselves as experienced travelers, if not savvy. But it did.

We were scammed.

In the days since that day—as we’ve taken to naming it—I’ve thought of other ways it could be described. We trusted them. We were open. We thought the best of their offers to help.

And of course those aren’t bad ways to be in the world. Such a posture of openness is one of the greatest gifts of travel. I haven’t had that posture in the same way since, but it is my aim to try and find it again.

Because the people that stripped us of our ATM cards that day are the same people subject to systems of oppression that strip them of opportunity. The requests for handouts, the people who approach with “a question”, and the same people who scammed us are often trying to get the leg up that I’ve been given my whole life.

The reality is there is no right way to describe it. It is only money but it is still painful. It doesn’t feel right. And it shouldn’t be excused—perhaps I’ve gone too far in my pursuit of understanding. So while we try to come to terms that it happened to us, we also try to come to terms with an inequitable world and our place in it.

This post was originally written in August 2017 but I wanted to wait awhile—and let the dust of my emotions and visceral reactions settle—before posting. We are still on the road now 8 months later and, while still hyper-careful about all ATM withdrawals and where our wallets are at all times, we’re slowly clawing back the open posture of trust in strangers that makes travel so special.