My alarm went off at 3:00 hours.
It went off again at 5:00 hours.
I promptly put on my belt, breastplate, boots.
Shield at the ready. Helmet on. And Sword at the hip.
Out the door, I go.
No, there was no chariot to get me to work, so walk, I did.
#MaThree to the center of town, lone driver, no conductor to open the passenger service vehicle (psv) door for the passengers. There was the lone Mama, carrying some drink or other in a worn 5 liter jerrycan, I move to the middle seat between the driver, so as to free up the co-driver’s seat for her. She must’a thought, ‘I won’t be seated that close to the road?!’
“no?!” I seem to hear you think…. leave me a comment, if I’m right 🙂 .
She slides the door open, bundles in, and tries to slide it shut.
Bang! First try…. door is still open.
Bang! Second try…. door still is open.
I’m beginning to think… ‘I can’t seat through another “Bang…door still open!” moment.
My right hand didn’t wait for me the thought, my free hand flew passed my shoulder and ear, door is shut, we are mobile again.
We arrive in Kabalagala, and she disembarks as she hands the driver his 500 shillings transport charge, from Kansanga.
Another two passengers get on, we whiz past the American Embassy in Nsambya, turn left into the general Queen’s Way road intersection, when I disembark.
The money changing business at 5:45 hours is pretty slow. Driver dearest had mentioned earlier, that he had none, so I employ the money-changing services of one bodaboda gentlemen, who covers my fare with the psv.
We step onto the curb, can’t be in the line of ‘sleep-deprived #MaThree #MaTatu #14_Seater drivers, and proceed to agree on a route plan.
‘Pick me up’ from Javas, #Coffe #Mocha #WithCream and a #Cupcake , right opposite the Post Office, and a beeline for the station.
What Happened At Work Today?!
The show was great, I will follow this post up with a clip, as soon as you leave me a post saying Post The Clip, no?! Oh well.
Today is Good Friday.
And if it wasn’t for today, what I’m about to share would be of little significance.
Towards the end of the show, I witness, through the window facing the Kampala-Bombo Road, passed the road, and into the gardens, that KCCA had a hand in designing and planting.
I spy with my little eye, someone flogging a tree stump…
That didn’t seat well with me. So I focus my vision on what is it about the tree stump that has this man this infuriated.
That’s when I see a pair of ashen, limp, flailing hands.
Not on my watch, I must have thought to myself.
I casually mention it to my co-hosts that I, was going over, to break it up.
Before I can think through the repercussions of what I’d just done, I was crossing the road.
By this time, the mob of angry people has ebbed away, I’m having to walk a little further than the gardens.
I cross the portion of the intersection nearest to me, break through the ranks of angry mob, and as casually as I’d told my colleagues on the show, I stood over her, shielding her with my frame, ever so temporarily, from the kicks and blows that the mob was raining down on her.
I try to reason with the point men of the mob, ‘Who died and made you judge?!’
In hindsight, that was all the time she needed to …. you’re going to have to wait for it 😉 .
‘What solution are you providing, when you are the same people meting out this injustice?!’
IS SHE REASONING WITH A MOB?!
I am pointed to the other lady, who is drenched in blood. Even before she can come into my full focus, my mind is looking at several possible options. Kill the visual!
Her right nostril is busted, into the right side of the right-most side of her upper lip.
I ask her to put pressure on it, while I lead her, and in tow – her 14 year-old looking daughter, clad in uniform, ever so surely, back to where I work, hoping to find a first aid kit, while I figure out what to do.
It is a public holiday at work, and the rest of the country, so there’s no one in office today, to help me make heads-and-tails of this.
I check back into office, and I’m advised to take her to the clinic. Across the road.
I’m not to keen on having to make the lady walk some more, especially after the cries from her about being dizzy.
I crouch by her chair, which the security guy was kind enough to give up, so she has been seated this whole time I’m trying to figure it out; and gently ask her to muster enough energy to cross the road one more time, promising to get her the help she needed.
This happened close to four hours ago, from the time I’m writing this out.
**The lady who flung the stone, which hit this other lady, had been offended by one of the rowdy drivers at the taxi stage, to the point where she felt, the most logical response to his transgressions, was to be on the receiving end of a pavers’ stone.
Alas, an unsuspecting mother, probably taking her child home from school, for the Easter break, walks right into the line of the projectile, and the damage spoke for itself.
That moment when I stood over her, gave her the window of time she needed to get away from the death-inducing blows of her judges, jury and executioners.
Did she survive it?!
In my heart of hearts, I hope she got away.
Thank you for reading through.
Till next time,
Easy does it 🙂