It is Story time kids..

Story story!

Today marks the second week on the calendar since the ordeal occured. It has been several moons in my mind timer. I faced the knife and the red fluid flowing through my veins was spilled on the national soil. Don’t get me wrong, I did not undergo female genital mutilation and I am too young to be a freedom fighter for this great nation (I have some patriotism in me😂). This is the formality of an opening of a story, you know just in case my grand kids come across this piece.

It was a quiet night late as it was, the darkness illuminated by the evenly distributed yellow street lights. I was planning of writing something on the very eventful day I had once I got into the house. As I branched from the light into darkness, a quick thought ran past my chain of ideas. What if someone robbed me at this corner and took my phone? I would beg them to allow me to remove my memory card as it had my writings, I responded. That is a request no robber could refuse granting me, right?

Rounding the corner, I switched on the flashlight so conveniently installed in my phone. A young man in a cap passed and when a second one without a cap appeared, I wanted to excuse him not knowing the two had other plans (how kind of me). The capped guy tried getting a hold of me in the back while the other akanishika mashati (for lack of a better term, I was wearing a dress😂😂). I wanted to laugh as my thoughts were clearly playing tricks on me. Isn’t this what I just imagined? How could it come to pass? I have never been psychic.. Until I saw the knife..

Toa kila kitu ama nikudunge..

The knife was glimmering against the beams of light from my phone. There wasn’t a knife involved in my thoughts. This is real and it is happening! The typical me should have frozen on the spot and they would have had a chance to rip me of everything I was in possession of at that time. Instead my left hand sprung into action and caught the knife that was about to stab me probably because my right capable hand was holding the phone lighting my path. Before the pain set in, I folded my palm and the next thing I saw was him pulling out the knife..

In a state of shock and panic (pain is one of my biggest weaknesses), I opened my mouth and only then did I realize what a powerful set of lungs I’m ordained with. The trio ran in the directions we all hailed from in the ratio of two is to one (get it? 😂😝) I still wonder to date what they did with my blood on their knife, ideas anyone?

A number of people who heard my loud scream stopped me from running and questioned what had happened. My brain had now registered the bleeding and I was in tears. The good Samaritans used my crisp white hanky to lessen the bleeding as I was painting the ground red. Amongst them was msee wa nduthi and they asked him to rush me to hospital as the bleeding was too much. I hopped on and lay on his back as he cruised around the bumpy streets before we finally got there.

It was a small clinic set up a few metres off the road. The reception was more snail-paced than I expected for a bleeding individual who was becoming dizzy by the minute but they eventually opened up and let me in. The doctor finally started working on me after he asked many many questions. He was particularly slow at attending to me and I can assure you the last thing you need while suffering is a slow-but-sure procedure.

A few calls later, a friend of mine Gil was the only one available to come take me home. I held his hand while getting the tetanus and amnesia jabs. I wanted to die as I watched my previously beautiful hand getting stitch after stitch. After picking the prescribed medicine and paying for the treatment, we rode home. Later that night, thousands of tosses and turns with me, I realized I could hardly sleep. I was unaware in which position my hand would be least painful and allow me some sleep.

*****

Thr dressing over my palm is now off. I’m attending physiotherapy sessions weekly to find hope for my numb, unfunctioning index finger (I did not even take physiotherapy seriously before). I have learned a great deal from this, the most important being that I shouldn’t be out at night. I am traumatized and I will have to sign up for some therapy before I lose it. Every guy that I am not familiar with appears to be a mugger and when I see two young men of the approximate height to those who attacked me, I want to point fingers. I now understand trauma. Wait, is this Paranoia? If you had plans to ask for my hand in marriage cancel them😂😂

Finally I want to thank everyone who has been there for me throughout this hard time. I would mention all your names but some people might get credit where it isn’t due. I will do titles😊😊

My best friends, my friends who called to check up on me, my WGK family, those who asked me to keep re-narrating 😂, those who escorted me for my check ups, the I am sorry’s, the advices on what to eat and how to keep myself going. The most important is the person who has been doing it all for me. I had to be helped in the shower, applying lotion and even tying my laces. Every single day you saw me in class is thanks to this one being who was taking care of the very basics, behind the scenes🙌

How do you think I get my bra on with a single hand?

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