I am mindlessly clicking through random
websites trying to drown out my thoughts as they linger around death and tragedy.
Another person was killed on the
Kisaasi-Bukoto road. That makes the Third accident and second death in as many
months. The most recent was a white lady and her bajaj guy who was hit as the
joined the road at a T junction.
Strangely enough I have arrived
on the scene moments after these three different accidents happened. I was
furious. I was sad. I was tired and sometimes waved it away with the
traditional luganda phrase. “Kitalo”
The very first accident was a
cyclist. He lay still and unconscious on the side of the road. His bicycle
squashed that both tires not touched lay a few feet away. Around his were a few
people who wanted to help but could not. Makes you wonder why first aid is not
compulsory all the way to university.
The dimly lit taxi cabin
illuminated the expressions of its occupants. I wonder how many of thought to
do something. This was the day where I was tired. I waived it off. Our taxi
lurched forward propelling my homeward but my heart was unsettled. This new
beautiful road was just another death trap waiting to happen. When I finally
got to my stage, I opted to skip my boda ride and walk that last few meters. This
had been a terrible punctuation to what has been a long day.
I reported the incident to police
and sat there listening as he tried to cut through all the chatter on his radio
and get the right authorities. Funny how the roads are totally a different
jurisdiction and he had to call a highway patrol man from God knows how far. After
a few moments of chatter back and forth, I heard the confirmation that a car
had been dispatched. I hoped it would reach in time. I trudged home, I felt a
little better.
Today’s accident is still fresh
in my mind. I wonder if it’s because there was a foreigner involved. You see
one of my fears was dying with no one knowing what had happened. In this our
pearl I am sure you know how that is possible. Here he or she was, far from
home, pursuing God knows what and boom out of nowhere a speeding motorist ends
that journey. She was So far from home. I guess death needs no visas.
The second of these events was a
collision between a boda and a van. That impact was horrific because the damage
done to the van looked like it had been clipped by a truck. Irony was that a
friend and I were heading home on the latter’s motorbike. Coming upon this
scene makes you think on how getting home alive is a blessing.
Thankfully my friend was a medic
and he gathered a few people and they lifted the injured into the van and
rushed them to hospital. His prognosis was that one seemed to have suffered and
fractured hip and the rider, who took the brunt of the impact, would not make
it.
We rode in silence for a while.
There is a bad taste in my mouth
now. Death visited my neighbourhood this afternoon.
