Approximately ten hours and fifteen minutes ago from
now_8:49AM (as I write this) I was desperately fighting for my dear life! I was
about to die!
This week’s blog post was meant to be some serious wisdom
thing about failure and how Uganda’s education system sets up people to be
scared of risk and failure and creativity…but that can so wait! I’m alive!
The following takes place between 6:30 and 9:48!
Events happen in
real time!
6:30-9:30PM
Every Thursday evening, as long as I’m in Uganda, is
rehearsal time. This lasts two hours from 6:30PM.
Yesterday’s rehearsal ended
about an hour late! The excellent musicians I work with had a lot
awesomeness(read music) to deal with in preparation for an unforgettable
experience that’s going to be happening at Jazzville, Bugolobi, this Sunday at
10AM(Yeah…I had to slot that advert in)! That’s really ok, not until you’re the
guy who needs to tidy up the rehearsal space when all’s been said and done!
9:31-9:48PM
Tidy up, and lock up…pretty much!
The Ordeal!
The following takes place between 9:50 and 10:00ish!
9:50-10:20PM-ish
I am walking up the street(if you’ve been to Bukoto,
Kampala, I’m walking up from the former “Kiira road round about” towards
Bukoto). All the while I’m flagging down bodas(motorbike taxies) and they are
either occupied ,or not there at all. The road is practically empty!
Lucky for me, a boda guy just stops out of the blue. Right
there infront of me…imagine my luck!By this time, I’ve walked halfway up the
hill,at Shell(or KFC if you like that sort of thing).
I jump on…Kisaasi-bound.What follows is just the stuff of
movies really.
Mr.Boda Guy is mumbling stuff under his breath.Then suddenly
he makes a detour…an oddly unnecessary one(he turnsleft into the short cut above CityVille _PS: This is purely Bukoto_speak…don’t mind
it).
At this point, I’m not scared. I’m a little suspicious, but
not scared. I’ve lived in this neighbourhood for half a decade or so.
Basically, I know these streets, and these streets love me!
He makes another odd left turn, and by this time, the only
odd excuse he has given is that the usual route is longer.
Mr.boda Guy and I are slowly riding through a dark-ish valley,
when we pass by a another boda dropping off a passenger.turns out my boda-rider
doesn’t know these streets quite well, so he stops to ask:
“Is this the road that ‘cuts
through’ to Kisaasi?”(It will help if you read these conversations in Luganda)
Other Boda Guy: “Nedda…oja kukiriramu katono awo…”
My Boda guy is riding like he really isn’t sure of this
route.
He slows down to ask again(by this time Other Boda guy has
dropped off the passenger, and is riding in the same direction as us):
“Is it
this one?”
Other Boda Guy: starts explaining random things…
As sudden as lightning, two arms jump out of the darkness
behind me and wrap themselves tightly around my neck!!
In about a second or two
I’m being lifted up in the air…kicking!
In about five seconds my right shoe
flies into oblivion as I try with all futility to kick Other Boda Guy who’s
coming at me…and my breath has turned to wheezing!
I could feel all the air I was
breathing, unknown_passenger who was being dropped off in the dark has a grip
that keeps tightening like a python around my neck. Mr Boda guy ,my chauffeur
a while ago is now raining punches incessantly on my fore-head and my stomach
and everywhere else, whilst Other Boda Guy frisks me all over!
My spects fly off into somewhere!
I plead !
“Jesus…Munjagaza ki…(gasping for
air)…kambawe kyemwagala…(struggling for more air)..Mundeke…Mwagala ki!!!?”
To which one of the assailants(Unknown passenger responds):
“Sirika!”…
“Tujja kutta” … “tulina ekiso”!!!
This is not how I imagine my story on earth ending.
I’m not really
scared…ok I was…just a little bit.
Some how I know this ordeal ends with me
alive, how alive is what I can’t tell!
The scuffle lasts a few more long seconds then they slam me down
in the dust and gravel!
Another boda appears to be coming down the same valley. And
just like that my assailants just jumped on their motorcycles and sped off into
the dark. And there I was in the literal valley of the shadow of death…alive!
10:30
...Or there about, I was back in the arms of the one who loves
me recounting this dark tale.
The strangest thing is I had no bumps or bruises on my face…no
cut lips (and I have some huge lips)…no broken nose (and I have big one).
How
could three chaps not have done much damage?
I left that valley missing only a phone…and yet I went down
there with a backpack, with my work laptop, some scanty money…and another
phone!
None of that stuff was taken.
And yet “All that stuff can be replaced”!
That’s the wisest, sense_making thing I’ve heard in these
two days.
“All that stuff can be replaced”~Emma
What really matters?
I guess that’s a question we all get to answer at some
point in life. When your faced with death, there’s very little that gets to feature in
your “Life_Flashing_before_your_eyes” slide show(which by the way I didn’t really
experience).
Lots of stuff is replaceable…not LIFE!
I am more than anything, thankful for life. I know God loves
me.
I am thankful for my wife.
And for her breakfast pancakes.
 |
| Totally thankful for life!!! |
