The scorching Saturday afternoon in 2004 that changed my life forever will always remain etched in my mind. I awoke to the cacophonous pattering of rain drops that frigid morning. The only silver lining in those terrible clouds was that I was to take a trip and spend the better part of a week touring western Uganda, where my grandparents reside. It was the whole gang, mum, dad, my two brothers and uncle. Before setting off we said a prayer together like we always have and off we went.

It was not long before the journey became a a real drag and one by one we all dosed off except for dad who could not afford such a luxury at the time since he was the driver. I had fallen asleep for about half an hour when a loud bang galvanized us out of slumber. Scared and confused I watched in befuddlement as the car cartwheeled off the road. All I did was shut my eyes. All the people in the car shouted and in the middle of all that was happening I said a silent prayer “God God, please save us”, as I shouted along oblivious to what was going on. In the blink of an eye, the cars wheels were airborne and it was now in a valley, ominously next to a stream. To fan the flames of an already healthy fire, the doors jammed as car fuel gushed from the tank thus filling the car with the smell which I quickly equated to death. It was mostly on the rear side where my brother was seated. It was devastating to watch my brother nearly drowning in car fuel as he screamed with a tormented look on his face. My father managed to smash the windscreen and once alfresco the car he jimmied one of the doors open. My mother, who had been unconscious and bleeding from the neck came to and quickly started hurling us out of the death-trap coming out last herself. We started to run from the burning car. Throngs of people had swarmed around and so they carried my siblings and I up the hill. Good Samaritans