These things! They are the fastest mode of transport on a busy jam packed day in Uganda. They save you plenty of time but they may be the end of you. S o this evening I am rushing back to hostel, and get on one of them, mindless of the risks. Say let’s throw caution to the winds for a change. Along the journey I see my twin on the sidewalk, so I stop, and together we travel along the Makerere University Business School highway. As we proceed, I remark to the cyclist, that I am uncomfortable and not sited well enough.
Obviously he ignores me and moves on, already eager for his next customer. Suddenly I am no longer on the motorcycle or boda as we call them, but sprawled in the middle of the highway, unconscious. Lucky for me, my father is close by, so he will not allow a mindless car or motorcycle crush me to death, so from a distance he keeps watch.
My twin realizes I am no longer on board and she frantically orders the boda to stop so she can rush back to me. H e leaves us to fend for ourselves and moves on. She finds me on the sidewalk, having been moved by concerned passers by, trying to revive me, but I hit my head with the fall, so I am obviously incoherent.
My little brother and twin sister get me onto another boda, because there’s no alternative, and they rush me to a clinic, which obviously doesn’t have the necessary equipment to tend to me.
My family is alerted, and I am moved to a bigger hospital, where I undergo a head scan, that reveals a swelling on my brain. I remember nothing of what’s happened so obviously I demand for answer, and my family looks on puzzled, alarmed, and scared, wondering what is wrong with me.
So gradually, they try to ask me random questions, and while I remember everything in my past, the memories of my accident elude me. So we spend the night in Nsambya hospital. The next day I start to remember after some considerable treatment, and in the evening I am discharged from hospital. So you see, my heavenly father is always here, even when worst comes to worst.