The day a motorbike almost cut my life short
I narrowly escaped death in a road accident, when a vehicle hit the boda boda I was riding on, causing potentially fatal injuries on my body.
By Vision Reporter
I narrowly escaped death in a road accident, when a vehicle hit the boda boda I was riding on, causing potentially fatal injuries on my body.
At only 27 years of age, I recall with horror the moment when the boda boda cyclist halted abruptly, in front of a vehicle that was probably heading to Bugolobi, a Kampala suburb. The driver had hooted signaling to him to give way, but it was too late.
A terrible accident was about to happen and I was certain it would take only seconds, before the vehicle could finish us.
The driver of the vehicle tried desperately to avoid us by braking as hard as possible, but the speed and the distance at which the vehicle was from us left a slim chance for him not to knock us.
The vehicle eventually hit us — throwing me first onto its windscreen, then bounced me off like a log five metres forward to the right of the vehicle, and finally to the ground. Next to me lay the boda boda cyclist, who was trying to save his motorcycle. The next thing I knew, he had vanished from the scene, probably because he knew it was his fault.
The accident occurred on March 25, 2008. Looking back, I remember how I woke up as early as 6:00am to prepare for work. I went through my morning routine and took a ‘boda boda’ because this was my quickest means to work.
Majority of the residents in my neighbourhood, Naguru, own personal vehicles and as a result, taxi operators have shunned the area because they hardly get passengers.
On the fateful morning, the boda boda ride was a tense trip, through busy traffic on Jinja Road, followed by a precarious turn on first Street-Industrial Area where vehicles freely cruise at terrific speed, despite the fact that it is a busy road, with many young, old and vulnerable people crossing daily to work.
I had taken this route since 2007 when I started working at The New Vision and nothing like this had ever happened, until that day when the boda boda rider I had hired to drop me at work miscalculated and crossed the road at the wrong time.
I was sure this was a end of my life on earth. I was scared of death and visions of death set in my mind.
On the ground, I was unconscious and began experiencing blurred visions.
When I gained consciousness, I saw a crowd of bystanders consisting of colleagues and ordinary people, some terrified and others worried. I believed they thought I was dead, which I also thought. But some how God wanted me to live for another day.
I stood up and walked one metre towards the New Vision, where I sat on a nearby pavement. All I could hear from the crowd were whispers of sorrow and pity.
The voice that stood out was that of Camilla, the New Vision front desk officer, “He is our staff. Take him to International Hospital Kampala-IHK,†was a comfort. The driver, who hit me, helped me to his vehicle and took me to IHK.
It was in the vehicle that I realised blood was gushing from the cuts on my face like a cock whose throat had just been cut. When I touched the wounds and saw the blood tears started to roll down my face. I prayed to God to save my life and I believe he did.
At the hospital, I was rushed to the casualty wing, where a team of four dedicated doctors and two nurses attended to me. I was given two injections-one for tetanus and another to relieve pain. One of the nurses dressed my wounds and I was rushed to the X-ray room, to examine my skull. It was an agonising moment, but the results were good, my skull was safe.
The doctor treating me was astonished. “A miracle! Most people who come down with a direct accident either die or have life-threatening fractures,†she said. “You have to thank God.â€
Indeed being a born-again Christian, I believe God saved me. Now recovering from the shock, the experience has taught me never to use a boda boda again. Boda boda cyclists are so reckless.
They have caused to numerous accidents. For those who use ‘boda bodas’ I implore you to avoid them because you may never live to narrate the experience.
I still get nightmares, weeks after cheating death.
I narrowly escaped death in a road accident, when a vehicle hit the boda boda I was riding on, causing potentially fatal injuries on my body.
At only 27 years of age, I recall with horror the moment when the boda boda cyclist halted abruptly, in front of a vehicle that was probably heading to Bugolobi, a Kampala suburb. The driver had hooted signaling to him to give way, but it was too late.
A terrible accident was about to happen and I was certain it would take only seconds, before the vehicle could finish us.
The driver of the vehicle tried desperately to avoid us by braking as hard as possible, but the speed and the distance at which the vehicle was from us left a slim chance for him not to knock us.
The vehicle eventually hit us — throwing me first onto its windscreen, then bounced me off like a log five metres forward to the right of the vehicle, and finally to the ground. Next to me lay the boda boda cyclist, who was trying to save his motorcycle. The next thing I knew, he had vanished from the scene, probably because he knew it was his fault.
The accident occurred on March 25, 2008. Looking back, I remember how I woke up as early as 6:00am to prepare for work. I went through my morning routine and took a ‘boda boda’ because this was my quickest means to work.
Majority of the residents in my neighbourhood, Naguru, own personal vehicles and as a result, taxi operators have shunned the area because they hardly get passengers.
On the fateful morning, the boda boda ride was a tense trip, through busy traffic on Jinja Road, followed by a precarious turn on first Street-Industrial Area where vehicles freely cruise at terrific speed, despite the fact that it is a busy road, with many young, old and vulnerable people crossing daily to work.
I had taken this route since 2007 when I started working at The New Vision and nothing like this had ever happened, until that day when the boda boda rider I had hired to drop me at work miscalculated and crossed the road at the wrong time.
I was sure this was a end of my life on earth. I was scared of death and visions of death set in my mind.
On the ground, I was unconscious and began experiencing blurred visions.
When I gained consciousness, I saw a crowd of bystanders consisting of colleagues and ordinary people, some terrified and others worried. I believed they thought I was dead, which I also thought. But some how God wanted me to live for another day.
I stood up and walked one metre towards the New Vision, where I sat on a nearby pavement. All I could hear from the crowd were whispers of sorrow and pity.
The voice that stood out was that of Camilla, the New Vision front desk officer, “He is our staff. Take him to International Hospital Kampala-IHK,†was a comfort. The driver, who hit me, helped me to his vehicle and took me to IHK.
It was in the vehicle that I realised blood was gushing from the cuts on my face like a cock whose throat had just been cut. When I touched the wounds and saw the blood tears started to roll down my face. I prayed to God to save my life and I believe he did.
At the hospital, I was rushed to the casualty wing, where a team of four dedicated doctors and two nurses attended to me. I was given two injections-one for tetanus and another to relieve pain. One of the nurses dressed my wounds and I was rushed to the X-ray room, to examine my skull. It was an agonising moment, but the results were good, my skull was safe.
The doctor treating me was astonished. “A miracle! Most people who come down with a direct accident either die or have life-threatening fractures,†she said. “You have to thank God.â€
Indeed being a born-again Christian, I believe God saved me. Now recovering from the shock, the experience has taught me never to use a boda boda again. Boda boda cyclists are so reckless.
They have caused to numerous accidents. For those who use ‘boda bodas’ I implore you to avoid them because you may never live to narrate the experience.
I still get nightmares, weeks after cheating death.