On that faithful day, I woke up as usual determined to have a wonderful day, but nothing could have prepared me for that moment when I came face to face with the grave.
I am not the type who thinks much about death and when my friends spoke about dying and death, I would make a joke out of it and we would all laugh about it.
Before that morning, I had had a bit of a run in with my dad which really made me sad since I was close to him. I was, however, hopeful to make things right when I visited him during the weekend.
So when I woke up earlier than I usually would to go to the shop where I worked while awaiting my SHS results to enter into the university, I was positive my day was going to be fantastic.
I hummed a sweet melody happily as I walked along the road, a familiar place since I usually used that route to work. I greeted familiar faces who smiled and spoke to me.
Now there is a street where I always cross to get to a bus stop which was close to a huge gutter. Usually, whenever I got there, the cars would stop for me to cross the road so I took for granted that they would always stop for me to cross.
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While crossing the road this time around, even though the other cars stopped for me to cross, I don’t know where one motorbike came from, before I could say jack, we were facing each other.
“Oh God, Oh God,” I heard some pedestrians saying.
I felt I was going to be knocked down, and my heart started to beat as fast as it could. I could hear my heart beating in my chest.
The motor rider had to swerve to avoid knocking me down, which resulted in the motorbike crushing right in front of me.
I didn’t even realise it had scraped my knee because when I saw the motorbike coming towards me, I had an image of me being knocked down by it.
I managed to cross over to the other side, and even though I was aware of onlookers, I couldn’t really hear what they were saying. After maintaining my composure, I walked straight towards the bus station as I was already running late.
Before I could have time to think about the ordeal I had just gone through, I once again came face to face with a huge gutter which I usually walked by whenever I was going to work.
Need I say that it had rained the previous day and that road was always slippery even when there were no rains?
Well yes, that was the scenario before my eyes. The edge of the gutter was where people now queued to get to the bus stop.
I started walking carefully along the sloppy edge of the huge gutter and just when I got to the middle with others walking behind me, my fear of heights was heightened by the near death experience.
I looked down and started feeling dizzy. The woman behind me held my hand “hey, young lady, move along” she said in the local dialect.
I stood rooted to the spot, unable to move. I felt as if my feet were glued to the ground and what a place it was to have my feet glued.
When everyone realised I was the cause for the halt in movement on the mini-bridge, they entreated the woman behind me to speak more softly to me, seeing as I was terrified.
After some amount of coaxing, I was able to get to the bus stop in one piece. And I promised to call my dad later on in the day to make peace.