If you are in trouble and you don’t know that you are in trouble, you have nothing to sweat about. The moment you realise that you are in trouble, that’s when all the worry sets in and sometimes fear may overcome and paralyse you.
That’s exactly what happened to me when I travelled to my village on that day. Every year I travel to Chokodza. There is no one at the house, but I go there and stay for a couple of days and at most one week.
I open all the windows and doors and allow the fresh air to circulate. All the foul smell trapped inside for all the months will go and the musty air will clear up.
All the while, I will be meeting with friends and relatives, catching up on village gossip and who got what tonnage of maize and who had the best Virginia tobacco crop during the previous harvest season.
I also enjoy the solitude and the tranquility and my mind will think clearly without the hustle and bustle of city life.
At Hwedza Centre, I boarded a commuter omnibus which discharged me at Kona Marecha.
Ahead of me was seven kilometres waiting for me to reach home. At the time I disembarked, there was still about forty minutes or so of daylight. I had enough time to reach home before the pale horizon darkened in the sky.
My backpack felt light and I had a few clothes for two days. I had also remembered to carry some 500g corned beef tins and one tin of pilchard fish. As a last thought, I also added two 500mls packs of sour milk.
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In the distance I could see herds of cattle raising dust as they were driven to their cattle pens for the night. I met a few people on the dusty road. I recognised the agriculture extension officer from a distance. He waved and I waved back.
After that I did not see anyone until I was a few metres from the bridge. Mbowo River flooded.
There were two guys on the bridge walking casually towards me. At first I thought nothing of it. It was when I looked behind me that I suddenly saw two other guys approaching from behind. I was not going to be surprised if more guys appeared from the surrounding bushes. I was trapped in the middle. I was in trouble. Their haunted looks were mischievous.
It was no coincidence that I was being driven into a trap which was well planned and was being executed professionally. These were no amateurs.
I was seized with fear. I trembled. I could hear my heart pounding. Everything else around me suddenly went into slow motion as I tried to think. I was now on the bridge. I suddenly stopped. I could now see their facial features and could hear their heavy breathing. The guys behind me breathed down on my neck. Time seemed to stand still.
On both sides of the bridge, the water splashed on the rocks and on the banks of the river as it cascaded downstream. I suddenly remembered that the river was infested with crocodiles. When we were small boys in those days in the village, we were told that crocodiles were afraid of the dark and did not move at night but lay in their lairs all night. This knowledge gave me a little comfort. There was no escape except through the water.
“Put your bag down,” said one of the robbers. They were so sure that I had no other way of escape, but a cornered man can be very desperate and do the unthinkable.
As I put the back pack down, I suddenly made a dive for the water. And as I leaped into the water, I heard shouts of dismay as I had taken them by complete surprise. I was not a good swimmer. I sank in the water on impact, hit a rock and felt a sharp pain on my left limb as I struggled to rise to the surface before I swallowed too many cups of water and drown. Deep pain exploded in my head.
I flailed my arms in desperation as the current swiftly carried me downstream. By sheer chance, I grabbed an overhanging tree by the branch and hung there for about a minute before my feet found solid ground. I wanted to vomit as I took a few weak steps forward. I stepped on something soft and jelly-like. It was a reptile, as big as they come, the kind you see displayed in small water ponds in zoos.
My eyes almost popped out of their sockets as the large reptile suddenly snapped its mouth forty five degrees open, ready to strike. I shot out of there like a bullet from a gun. I ran like the harmattan wind, nothing was going to catch up with me, not even the robbers on the bridge.
What happened next is the story for next time.
*Onie Ndoro Onie@X90396982
