Michael

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At the final moment, it all boils down to a vital decision: Do you floor the accelerator, continue overtaking the bus and hope to make it back to your lane on time? Or do you brake and abort the now perilous process of overtaking? This is a split second decision, an estimation of speed and risk. Russian roulette. Unless you are drunk, your adrenaline spikes, your heart gallops off, leaving your body through your nose. The oncoming vehicle snarls with its angry horn, maybe even furiously flashing its headlights at you. You are distinctly aware of being suspended in this holding area between life and death. Your life hasn’t started flashing before your eyes because you want to live, even desperate for it, and so you are fighting to stay alive even as your fate bears down on you, counting the seconds before the difference between being called by your name or just ‘the body.’

Michael reached this moment on the night of 14th August last year. The road was a slow climbing dark stretch in an area called Kipkelion, on his way towards Kericho, en route to Kisumu. It was past 2am, dark shadows from plants and trees loomed around the road. The night held the mystery of darkness. The bus he was overtaking was Uganda-bound, almost all of its occupants now asleep, not aware of the life and death struggle happening right next to them. A man was trying to save his life to see his two-month-old baby and a wife he’d only been married to for four years then, all asleep back in Nairobi. He was driving his wife’s car.

He must have thought; I can’t turn my wife’s car into my coffin. The engine must have revved like crazy, the car choking in it’s strain and then the horn from the trailer barreling down the hill to meet him grew louder and nearer. Then driver of the trailer suddenly realizing that this bugger was not going to make it on time and he was going to kill himself, the people in the bus and possibly him, tried stopping this 70-tonne mass of steel without losing control, leaning on the horn, gnashing his teeth, strained face lit by the harsh light of Michael’s headlights. Some of the passengers in the bus are now rousing from sleep, looking around confused, craning their necks to see what the hell is going on, and the bus driver realizing what predicament the driver of the salon car has wedged himself in – between his bus and a hard place – starts immediately bringing the bus’s speed down from 130kms/hr to allow him to overtake him.

Our guy, the car probably now at 140kms/hr, has made the decision to make a run for it, there is no turning back and he just about makes it back to his lane when the trailer whizzes past in a blur of smelling brake pads and furious horn. But death isn’t done with him, death still stalks him because with that speed, the car lurches further into his lane, he tries to correct it and in this instance, his front wheel or his rear wheel, hits a kerb, and there is an explosion as it bursts. The car loses control, flips off the road and there is that moment when it’s midair, twisting like a leaf in the breeze, this acrobat of death, suspended by the unknown. A small window that looks out into the other world, our guy, now upside down, the belt tightening against him trying to keep him in his seat, God trying to keep him in the car, and it hits the ground in grinding metal and rolls out severally into the abyss darkness below.

Then silence.

All this while, as the car – crashed and written off – lies in that ditch, Cristian, his two-month-old son, sleeps in bed next to his mommy, completely unaware that he’s an inch from growing up without a daddy.

Of course Michael doesn’t remember the event this way. The guys in the bus remember it that way. The bus driver remembers it that way. Michael doesn’t remember anything apart from leaving Jiweke Tavern at 10pm that evening after having a bite, calling his wife and telling her he would be driving to Kisumu immediately. Could she pack a small bag for him? Then in the car driving from Jiweke, calling his brother-in-law and telling him he was 10mins away, to please come down with the bag because he was in a hurry and couldn’t go upstairs. Then he remembers taking a leak at that last petrol station as you leave Nakuru. After that he doesn’t remember anything else.

The bus driver saw it happen. How the car bounced off the road into the dark thicket below. He’s told that the bus driver brought the vehicle to a standstill a few meters away and after everybody had stopped gasping and calling out God’s name, he and his turn-boy ran down below with an old torch with weak batteries and found the car on its side, the glass shattered. No way the driver survived, they thought, going around the car. He shone light inside the wreckage and saw Michael, slumped away from him, cuts on his face oozing blood. The bus driver was in his 50s, but the guy he was looking at seemed much younger. Michael was 32. Still is.

Everybody from the bus gathered around the car, some taking pictures, mothers murmuring prayers, men wedging open the door of the car as the men dragged the seemingly lifeless body of Michael out. They lay him on the wet grass. One of his shoes was missing. A man placed his ear against his nose, as if listening to his life and said, “He’s still alive.” They retrieved his phone from his breast pocket and placed his thumb on it to unlock it. Then they called the last number dialed, his friend Moses, in Kisumu. It was one of those phone calls in the middle of the night that start with, “Unajua mwenye hii simu?” and you just know you are not going back to sleep.

They carried Michael to the road and tried to flag down other vehicles to take him to the nearest hospital but none would stop. The bus driver – bless him – did something outrageous but that might have saved his life, he barricaded the whole road with his bus, basically parked it diagonally across the road. No other vehicle could pass. He told the motorists, “I’m not removing this bus until one of you takes this guy to a hospital.” A good Samaritan finally offered to take him to the hospital in Kericho as his friends from Kisumu drove towards Kericho like crazy.

I went to see him in Kileleshwa two weeks ago. He’s since moved into his parents’ house. The servants quarters is now his room. It has a hospital bed. A computer. A window that overlooks the main gate. A toilet and bathroom. A nurse is cleaning the bathroom as I walk in. “Hello,” I tell her. He’s wearing shorts, sitting in a wheelchair next to the bed. The cuts on his face are now scars. Christian music plays from the computer. The type that makes you want to repent immediately. The type where a white man leads a massive choir in a gigantic auditorium and hands wave like reeds in waves, eyes closed, a feverish beckoning of faith.

There is a half-eaten boiled maize cob on a plate on a shelf. This detail is important, so put a pin on it.

I sit with my back to the wall on a chair opposite him. We exchange niceties. The usual; did you have trouble finding here? No, the directions were pretty straight forward, I didn’t know an estate even existed here. Yeah, my folks have lived here for ages. Ahh, I see. Was that your mom I just met at the door? Yeah. I almost cancelled today again, by the way. I have been having a fever since I came back from shags. Pole, when you travel like that, who takes care of you? My wife.

There is a diary and a pen on his bed. “You have been doing some journaling,” I point out. He says he has. “Is it private stuff?” I ask him, “Can I read it?” He says he doesn’t mind. So I take the diary and the first page is written in capital letters; Walking On Wheels. On the first page, he writes a letter to God. “There are many questions I have in mind….why?..why?….why?” He talks about the Israelites leaving Egypt and Moses doing his showy thing (my words, not his) with his staff at the Red Sea. He pleads with God to help him remember His goodness. He asks God to please help him remember His greatness amidst his sadness. He writes on the next page, “Help me remember not to ever complain Lord.”

Apart from the gospel music playing softly the only sound is of me turning the pages of his diary. He remains still, like a predator on the prowl. I continue reading: How I wish I could get the opportunity to kneel and bow and talk to my saviour….and…. Here I am seated and feeding from the feet of Christ and I’m literally seated….what a comical God. He continues. The diary runs into page after page of his ordeal in hospital. I eventually hand him back the diary. “You have good handwriting,” I tell him. “You wouldn’t read mine.”

He grins.

When he crashed, he broke three ribs and his ribs – R3, R4 and R5 – punctured his lungs and that shit, he says, is the most painful thing he remembers when he came to Aga Khan Hospital in Kisumu. He also fractured his spinal cord. He doesn’t remember Kisumu other than a very brief moment when he opened his eyes to see an AMREF sign when unbeknownst to him, he was being airlifted days later for specialized treatment in Nairobi. When he came to Aga Khan Nairobi where he would end up staying for 6 weeks, he realized he couldn’t move his legs. He tried moving and he couldn’t. He couldn’t feel the whole of his lower body. Later, he learned that he had fractured his T4 to T7, or in layman’s language, was paralyzed from the waist down.

At this point, his brother-in-law walks in carrying the most beautiful baby I’ve seen this year. One of those babies women look at and say, “Oh, I feel my ovaries moving!” I don’t have ovaries but I just thought to myself, “my, this baby is bespoke art.” I wanted to carry him, bounce him on my lap, make baby sounds and smell his hair. I love how babies smell.

“Is this your son?” I ask Michael.

“Yeah,” he says. “That’s Cristian.”

“How old is he?”

“Six months now.”

“What a good looking boy,” I say.

Cristian looks at me suspiciously, adorably, with these round lovely eyes that look like something an astronomer would see through a telescope. Something that isn’t a star or a planet. Something that has not been recorded. I extend my fist in a fist bump and he, wobbly, extends his own small fist and we touch fists and he gurgles in delight then looks away, taking away those enchanting eyes because he knows such eyes have to be rationed.

“How did you feel knowing you couldn’t move your lower body?” I ask Michael after Cristian exits with his uncle.

“Panic,” he says. “A lot of panic. I was very confused. Initially I thought something had gone wrong during the surgeries and they would eventually fix it. I hang on hope.” Hope slowly waned. He remembers the excruciating pain in the hospital when he had to be lifted off the bed by four guys (he weighed 115kgs) with sheets like luggage. He remembers friends coming in when he had an oxygen mask, bilateral chest tubes, the worry and sadness in their eyes. Him asking his father to pray for him when the pain was insane. Him begging for more morphine. Catheters, diapers, the indignity of not being able to control his bowel movements. “The moments my diapers were being changed were the worst,” he says. “I couldn’t have ever imagined myself in this situation, these are things I had only heard happened to people; now it was happening to me. How life changes. I was most humbled during diaper changes. One time they were doing a diaper change and after stripping me naked and turning me sideways, my bowels suddenly opened up and I heard one of the nurses say, ‘let him finish before we clean him up’ and I was so embarrassed! So embarrassed and undignified. I closed my eyes and cried. Have you ever wished you could just die? I wished I’d just died. Life wasn’t worth living like that. Of course I sort of started accepting this me, and sometimes I’d fart during physio and we would both laugh and it made it better.”
He recalls his harrowing moments at The Spinal Injury Unit, where nurses cared little and treated you with contempt. But it’s also there that he met Peter and Anthony, quadriplegics who couldn’t move anything below their necks and who would be laid out in the sun to dry like wet goods. They taught him to appreciate his status. “God left me with my hands,” he tells me. “I can write! I can point at something. I can push myself.”

Do you always get a feeling when someone is staring at you? I felt someone staring at me, and when I turned, I saw the half-eaten boiled maize. I love maize and it was there enticing me. I had been deliberating with myself wondering if he was going to eat it later. Was he saving it for later? I hadn’t eaten boiled maize in ages. You don’t want me visiting you in hospital because if you say you don’t feel like eating I won’t say, “No, just try, you need your energy.” That’s not me. If I’m hungry I will say, “Sawa, let me eat it. There are people dying of hunger.” Recently my brother was in hospital for a few days. I’d go visit him and if I found him eating I’d join him, shamelessly. If you have been to Princess Zahra Pavilion, you can’t blame me. That’s a hotel. I find no shame eating a sick person’s meal and because of that when people burn in hell, I suspect Lucifer will not be very kind to me.

“Are you going to eat that maize?” I asked Michael eventually. He was as surprised as I was. He looked at the maize and said, “Of course, no, no, please have it. Actually there is more in the main house, I can have them bring you warmed ones.” I said, no, this was fine. So I washed my hands and dug in as he told me about life as a paraplegic. About losing your legs, your livelihood and moving back home. How life changes. How he has to rely on people to do things for him.

He spends most days indoors. He reads the Bible. He goes online and researches his condition, stem cell trials. He reads up on cars because he loves cars. He reads about animals because he wanted to be a vet. He is bathed by the nurse in the morning and the night nurse at night. He can’t sit for more than three hours so he has to be moved to the bed. There, he lies on his back and listens to gospel music and sometimes the chatter of neighbourhood children playing outside or the inane banter of garbage men over the sound of the reversing garbage truck. He hears gates opening and closing. Sometimes it’s quiet, just the sound of his breathing. Sometimes he follows up his old debtors. He had an office in Hurlingham, now closed. It’s hard enough getting debtors to pay you when you have legs. He goes for physio twice a week. Mornings he is wheeled outside to bask in the sun. It feels good on his face.

“What do you think about when you are alone with your thoughts, basking in the sun?” I ask him.

“Things. I loved travelling, so I think of places I could have visited. I loved driving,” he says. “I think about my son who is now growing; I miss spending time with him, teaching him how to walk…” he trails off. I stop chewing, because it doesn’t seem right in this circumstance.

“That day, that night you had an accident,” I say, not sure if this question will offend him, “the night you were at Jiweke, did you drink alcohol?”

“No,” he says. “I hadn’t eaten, so I had a meal.”

I chew on that. Or rather, chew on the maize.

“Why didn’t you go up to say bye to the wife?” I ask him. “I’d imagine if you were travelling, you’d go upstairs and, you know, say bye….kiss the baby…stuff…”

“I was in a hurry. I spoke to her on the phone and we said our goodbyes – so there was no need to go up.”

At this point, a lady passes outside the doorway to get into the main house. She looks in and smiles and maybe says a hello, I’m not exactly sure.

“Is that the wife?” I ask.

“Yeah. That’s Millicent.”

“How has being paralyzed affected your relationship?”

“Millicent has been extremely supportive. She has been there for me from the word go, she has been my strength, man, very dedicated. In fact, when we were in shags it was just me and her, I didn’t go with a nurse, so she was my nurse, doing everything for me. This state has brought us closer, she is more hopeful than I am.”

He speaks of the immense support of his family members, his mom and father, his brother Lawrence and his wife Julie and their family, his uncle Steve, his brother-in-law Chief and his sister Lorna, and Gilly, another brother-in-law, Victor and Ian, cousins Angie and Liz, his church, Lavington SDA and many others. These guys have rallied around him, held his hand, prayed for him.

I tell him that things happen for a reason. I tell him that I believe everything we go through in this lifetime has a reason even though we might never know the reason. I ask him if he wonders why this had to happen to him. Why did he have to leave Nairobi at night, why was he saved on that dark road in the middle of the night, why did that bus driver barricade the road and say, ‘you buggers are not going to pass until someone takes this man to the hospital’. He could have died that night but he didn’t. “Do you wonder about the why?” I pose.

He exhales softly. There is a pause.

“I was living a very fast life. I think God wanted to slow me down,” he says. “I was a spendthrift. I had ten cars at some point. I partied hard. I partied very hard. I’d sometimes leave home and not come back, I’d be gone for days, five days, six days, seven days, gone. I drove fast because I loved fast cars. I would also never stay in one place for too long, always moving, doing this and doing that…busy.”

“You were the life of the party.”

“Yeah. A party wouldn’t start before I showed up. You know those guys?”

“Uh huh.”

“That was me,” he chuckles wearily. “Yeah, man, so that fast life. There is nothing I haven’t done. I wasn’t patient, I was jumpy. Now I’m seriously humbled. Also I wasn’t spiritual, so maybe God wanted me to get close to him.”

“These ten cars,” I ask, “did you like owning ten cars at a go or…”

“No, maybe six cars at one go.”

I look up and see keys hanging from a hook in the middle of the ceiling.

“What the hell is that?” I say pointing up. He looks up and laughs. “I think so that nobody moves it.”

His hustle was he did business with the government of Kenya- tenders. He had countless friends. He’d walk into a bar and know a handful of people. “Now they are all gone,” he says. “This accident happened eight months ago but I can count the number of friends I have left. The rest all fled. It’s all very quiet, man. People just leave. I think maybe 90% of my friends are gone – and I had many many friends.”

After the wheat has been separated from the chaff, the remaining friends are down to three; Obed Moraa, David Ogong and Steve Mogere.

“You think you have friends, but what we have are acquaintances,” I say. “People we drink with.”

“It’s true. Guys just disappear. Nobody calls you, but there are lessons, harsh ones kwanza. I think this situation has taught me to be humble, to be patient, to be slow to anger – something I’m still learning – to ask for help and to talk to God. I share my deepest fears, secrets, pains and desires with God, he’s the one who delivered me, the one who saved me from death.” He pauses. “You know you asked me why this happened, and I could have been a quadriplegic. I was close to it but God didn’t let it happen, I might be physically handicapped but I’m not emotionally handicapped, plus I have hands,” he raises them for me to see, “and so I can write and feel and touch.”

“Always remember that God gives the greatest challenge to His greatest warriors. I believe that I’m a warrior in the army of the Lord. I’m the furnace being beaten and burned as a sword in the fire in preparation for my task ahead.”

“I like that,” I say.

“If I had one wish it’s to walk again,” he says. “But if the Lord sees it fit that I remain as I am, so be it.”

“What’s the first thing you’d do if you could walk?”

He smiles for what seems like the first time.

“What’s the first thing I would do if I could walk?”

“Yeah, right this moment…” I look at my watch, “…at 12:48pm.”

He thinks about it for a bit, the smile now spreading thin on his face, like a moving shadow.

“I’d wear shoes and walk out of the house.”

“To where?”

“It doesn’t matter, I’d just walk in whatever direction my legs take me.”

He’d walk out of this room that’s like his room but with a hospital bed. He’d walk downstairs, now fitted with a ramp, out the gate, down the line of houses, out the estate gate. At Kasuku Center roundabout he’d turn left into Oloitoktok Road, walk up the walkway, up till Methodist roundabout and turn left into Ole Odume Road, turn into Riara Road, then left into King’ara Road, right into Ngong’ Road. Up the road past that mayhem caused by construction, past the world war cemetery where the bones of dead soldiers rest, past men making furniture and pots and gates and selling royal palms and Kikuyu grass, just placing one leg after the other. This act of mobility that we take for granted, feeling the earth rise and fall under his feet, feeling pebbles under his soles, and perhaps when he gets to the Karen roundabout, he’d be exhausted and he’d sit by the road and stare at his legs spread out before him. Then he’d keep walking.

“Like Forrest Gump,” I say.

“Yeah,” he says.

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140 Comments
  1. At the final moment, it all boils down to a vital decision: Do you floor the accelerator, continue overtaking the bus and hope to make it back to your lane on time? – Can’t tell you how many times i have been there…

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    1. I try as much as possible not to be on the road past 10pm and before 6am . My eye sight is not soo good hence the reason , I try to play safe as much as possible .

      My prayer is that destiny will give me a chance and that I will never break a bone . So help me God.

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  2. Wow. Who would have thought. I’m first. And yet here we are, after being a reader for many many years and watching others childishly squabble here. Today is me. Wow. Just wow! All because of Corona.

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  3. Ah, a double treat week! Gotta love such weeks.

    I have seen that overtaking moment that leaves one’s life suspended between life and death. It is something that stays with you. That’s the part of this story that weighed down on my heart. I’m just thinking of all the things that lead up to such moments. Is it fate? Bad decisions? Impatience? A fast life?

    I’m glad Michael is recovering. And has found hope in God. On hope, François de la Rochefoucauld said, “Hope is the last thing that dies in man; and though it be exceedingly deceitful, yet it is of this good use to us, that while we are traveling through life it conducts us in an easier and more pleasant way to our journey’s end.”

    I wish him full recovery.

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  4. “Always remember that God gives the greatest challenge to His greatest warriors. I believe that I’m a warrior in the army of the Lord. I’m the furnace being beaten and burned as a sword in the fire in preparation for my task ahead.”

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  5. Remind us Lord to number our days. May Michael rise again!

    ‘Always remember that God gives the greatest challenge to His greatest warriors. I believe that I’m a warrior in the army of the Lord. I’m the furnace being beaten and burned as a sword in the fire in preparation for my task ahead.”

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  6. I felt like it’s me driving…..I love driving but not just driving furious driving. I hate small cars. May God forgive me

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  7. be humble. Never take anything for granted. Know your friends, in the end, God and family matter, so why wait when its too late?

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  8. Well, I put a pin on that half-eaten maize cob detail- it was totally worth it. On a different note, we thank God with you Michael, he preserved your life for a reason. May you find that purpose

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  9. Had a similar experience only that I can walk….you think you have friends only that you have acquaintances… People we drink with

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  10. This article has made me call a friend who had the same kind of accident around Salgaa. Coincidentally he was a fast driver and had an office at Hurlingam

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  11. Do you floor the accelerator, continue overtaking the bus and hope to make it back to your lane on time?
    You can make it back on time 1000 times, it is the one time that you don’t make it back that actually matters.

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    1. I feel you.

      That one time is the ultimate decider. The ideal thing is to reduce that probability, but as human we tend to keep it up; “I’ve done it a thousand time before, why not today?”

      I pray for Michael to heal, and he will.

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  12. Whoosh!
    This one is a heavy one.
    How embarrassed he felt during the diaper changes got to me.
    Such things humble you. Like completely humble you.
    I’m so happy that through this accident he found God and discovered who his true friends are.
    Bless that bus driver for blocking the road until Michael was taken to hospital. Hats off to you Sir!!!

    Biko you are shameless. How dare you eat a sick person’s maize? Buy really, boiled maize is life!
    Also, ten cars at a go?

    Biko I was worried that you wouldn’t post today, following the surprise post jana.
    Thankyou for blessing us with this story

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  13. Sure God sometimes wants to slow us down from our fast paced life. Someone recently told me to “stop and smell the Roses”

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  14. “I’m not removing this bus until one of you takes this guy to a hospital.” ..this made me shed very hearty tears at the act of humanity. God bless that bus driver. I love speed but not that that kind of speed of course..i am just humbled by this story. I choose to do things differently going forward.

    On Saturday afternoon a friend of mine took me to visit his friend who had an almost similar incident 3 yrs down the line only that our friend hit a capstone and rolled several times …He is also in a wheelchair and paralyzed from the waist. I must confess that that was the most humbling visit i have made in my life. Our friend has a great sense of humour you cannot believe, we laughed the whole time of the visit. He is so handsome and so full of life and hope to walk someday soon. Michael’s story made me remember our friend. May the loving wife find favour in God.

    May our Almighty help Michael and our friend to find peace and healing.

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  15. Christian is 6 months old but Michael had the accident 8 months ago when he was 2 months old? Aje sasa?

    Also, great article. Helps you appreciate life more.

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  16. Aaw sad story but beautiful ending…
    I like his faith and I pray he holds on in there, there is light at the end of the tunnel.

    ..I share my deepest fears, secrets, pains and desires with God, he’s the one who delivered me, the one who saved me from death.”
    “If I had one wish it’s to walk again,” he says. “But if the Lord sees it fit that I remain as I am, so be it.”
    I love the contrast in these two sentences and I know he would read this reply ,kindly Michael just know it is the will of your father to make you whole.He just asks are you willing to let me heal you?
    As funny as it may sound yes the healing virtue was already released 2000 years ago at the cross , just believe it in your heart and doubt not that you will rise up and walk again(which is the desire of your father).
    And I pray with you and decree of your healing be made manifest as the agenda of God is to give life and life in abundance , that is why he spared your life that the enemy may not glory in your death but be ashamed because his agenda never pulled through.
    You will surely walk again IJMN!

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  17. Biko , that treat that you are seemingly having this week, may you keep having it that we may get double or triple treats every week.

    Just keeping my notification alarm on a good volume so as not to miss out!

    Asi! pewa treat kwa bill yangu hahaha!

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  18. I have witnessed this growth
    Seen Michael as he progresses through his recovery physically, spiritually even emotionally. Life’s a journey, we just have to be willing to go the whole nine yards, at our pace. You know my prayer for you Michael, it’ll happen and we will speak of it. Best wishes to you and the family always.

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  19. I am an insurance investigator. Every time I talk to accident victims and survivors of accident, I get to shed tears thereafter. It humbles me everyday. I get to think a lot about our actions on these roads. About the things we do for ourselves and our families. I feel PAINED.

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  20. This part broke my heart
    “…I heard one of the nurses say, ‘let him finish before we clean him up’ and I was so embarrassed! So embarrassed and undignified. I closed my eyes and cried. Have you ever wished you could just die?”
    You don’t know what you got till its gone saying is underrated…
    Is it just me ama the article has abruptly ended?

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  21. “I tell him that things happen for a reason. I tell him that I believe everything we go through in this lifetime has a reason even though we might never know the reason.”….. Ps.cant believe you ate the maize

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  22. Wow! Biko, you did it again, very captivating, eye opening and thought provoking as usual. May Michael stay in the will of God and may he live to walk again and see his son grow up.

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  23. I really admire how mike is handling this, its actually the thought and the healing that counts,he is the epitome of strength.
    I knew him through friends, he is an amazing person.

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  24. We have a rendezvous with August 14th, one of these dark calendar years/ we dodged it once/ after it sandwiched us/ but we have a final rendezvous …

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  25. Been in such a moment….men the truck driver songeshad its head …I squeezed myself back in…my bro on the passager sides stepping on his on brakes ngai….men iyo speed unaskia chuma zote zikifanya kazi….ngai

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  26. I believe in healing, I believe you can walk again. The answer is in Him whose word you read in the bible. Read it continually and ask him to reveal himself and show you the way to your walking again. You’ve got it !

  27. Adversity brings us closer to God . When all the friends run away from us , it is only God who is constant and unfailing . Everything happens for a reason

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  28. There are many questions I have in mind….why?..why?….why?” He talks about the Israelites leaving Egypt and Moses doing his showy thing (my words, not his) with his staff at the Red Sea. He pleads with God to help him remember His goodness. He asks God to please help him remember His greatness amidst his sadness. He writes on the next page, “Help me remember not to ever complain Lord.”
    very true indeed it reminds me of the song Nikumbushe

  29. This is so well written, your words literally jumped off the page. It’s like I was actually there and witnessed everything!

  30. Biko, stop making jokes about God and Hell and stuff like that. Its not funny, and don’t mock God. Hell is a real place and you shouldn’t desire to go there so stop the casualness about it. Thank me later.
    Otherwise, good read with great lessons. My biggest lesson is keeping your circle of friends small and genuine.

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  31. We thank God for giving Michael a second chance to reflect on his life and right the wrongs he can. I join his wife in faith, it shall be well.

  32. Such a humbling read….the diaper change times and the excruciating pain that had him seek God….in deed only God can no matter how far we try to stay away it still has to be him to ease the pain, humble us, grant us victory and heal the wounds with what no man can ever do….Micheal you will be fine and healed, know that one day you sure walk again in His will for as you have noted you are being taken through the furnace in preparation for the very best from God that lasts.

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  33. The things we take for granted.. Like sitting to take a poop and walking. May we learn to be Humble
    To michael may your light shine brighter each coming day. And may Gods will be done in your life.

  34. This is a heavy one. The diaper changing part brought tears to my eyes. God drew you to him for a reason Michael, may His will be done in your life. Also, I saw Cristian in my mind’s eye as Biko described him☺☺

  35. Glad that my friend shared this Piece. Quickest and miraculous healing to Michael i pray . That defining moment that changes our life in a millisecond. . Praying for road safety too and always

  36. Names are so important. You share a name with Archangel Micheal..the warrior- in-chief within the spiritual realm.
    Keep fighting, keep hoping…you are alive, and have your hands and we are grateful for that.
    Friends..tsk. So overrated.. the ones who stayed are the real deal. Embrace them. The ones who left? Don’t even think one minute about them.

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  37. I remember lifting Mike from the ambulance to the room he’s in now after recovery from hospital. It humbles you and makes you to reflect on what life is. One day at a time is too much grace for us to be thankful to God. Life is unpredictable and this makes me thankful for every minute passed.

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    1. Be blessed for being there for him,may God continually heal Michael.Let him know that the gang here wishes him quick recovery.

  38. Beikoooo,
    You’ve floored me today. A baby so beautiful that women look at it and go like…
    I hear my ovaries move

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  39. The value if good health is seldom known….. Wait until you lose your functionality. Phew. The nurse in me has seen it all.
    May God help us to remember, be humble be grateful

  40. Great testimony… We take for granted so many things in this life, thank you because this is a reminder.
    May God meet you at your point of need.
    Keep on the HOPE. Romans 5 : 1 – 5 Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we[a] have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we[b] boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we[c] also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; 4 perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.

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  41. My pastor says we should thank God always. When doing our routines like walking, eating, easing ourselves, talking. Anything and everything, we should always say ‘thank you God.’

  42. Bad things happen to us for us to realize there’s a God above and so that we can praise His Holy name.
    You shall walk again.
    Keep the Faith and Hope.

  43. Thank you. I usually complain alot,more so to myself. A hawking graduate who tends to believe I have exhausted all mentoring possibilities available.
    I now choose to be grateful.
    I will call my mother and two brothers today and make it a daily habit.

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  44. Michael, I pray that Christ reveal Himself to you and what your purpose in this life is. May His will in your life be done. May He remember you and grant your restoration. May He be exalted in your life. IJN, AMEN

  45. Awesome piece! I can relate to the life on the fast lane..and God slowing me down albeit in a different manner. @Bikozulu keep them coming, can’t afford to miss!

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  46. Loved the piece makes you appreciate life and people you have around, not forgetting to the loved ones who you never pay attention to , thank you can’t wait to read more

  47. I am the child of a paraplegic. I was born after his accident. His condition has never defined him and I grew up with the knowledge of who he is as a man with dreams and ambitions he realised, a father who was present. We did fun stuff growing up and I never wished for anything other than what he is, a damn good father, who provided us with a life beyond what we imagined. No matter what, you will be well, You will see your children grow up and it is up to you to make up whatever life you want to have ahead. Your mind is a powerful thing. I wish you all the best in your recovery.

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  48. I was in a similar situation 2 weeks back where a lorry driver couldn’t make it back to his line on time and collided with us head on. Fractured my leg but I thank God for being alive. While recovering in Hospital a guy in the next room had his leg amputated and its in such moments you realize how some things we take for granted like walking are a favour from God. Stay Strong Mike, your Faith shall heal you and you WILL walk again!

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  49. God is a God of 2nd chances. Some us dont come out physically maimed but still messed up for life. Its accepting it that helps. I love Micheal story, very true. I hope he can walk one day. If not , I hope he accepts and be happy just the way he is.

  50. Biko, my father got an accident back in 2011 and injured his cervical spine C5,C6. He was quadriplegic. He was at the Spinal Unit in Hurlingham for 8 months. On several occasions, I would storm out in anger amid fights with my mother who was the primary care giver because I wanted to scream at the hospital, the nurses, the doctors and everyone else but I couldn’t. We left my father at their mercy each night, so complaining would have done him more harm than good. You do not want to witness the kind of treatment the patients endure. Be grateful every single second that you ain’t them.

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  51. After all this has happened we still sit down and thank God for the life he has preserved. May this positivity never fed from his life. Above all I have to give thanks in all situations.

  52. Always abort the mission whenever you feel like you will not make it to the other end before the on-coming vehicle. Its safer that way, especially at night.

  53. Does he ever stop to think…may be if I said goodbye to my wife and kissed cristian goodbye,I wouldnt have met the track at the time, I would have delayed for that kind of road misery… this sucks.

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  54. Awww Michael this is rough, can’t find words of wisdom
    that can make this better, only that your boy Cristian is the rope you have to hold to , he does not care the state of your body, your face and voice is what he knows, and that is enough. Holding you up in prayers.

  55. The walking we take for granted, the humbling experience, the slowing down life…the biggest burden is given to the strongest worriers….*sigh*

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  56. So…My name is Michael…My birthday is 14th August….I am 32…coincidence? I dont know but thanks for this piece chocolate man!

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  57. Really!! It’s good to be honest and the truth costs zero shillings. As 1st respondents to the scene whatever it is being portrayed here is nothing but left out truths. Don’t always rely on whatever one narrates coz definitely they tell their side and leave out the truth…. Good thing the recovery is well but truth always prevails.

    1. ofcorse he has to give the narrative according to his side of the stoy lol..the eye witnesses will have thier own rendition. the spouse and family theirs. we are here to read HIS story

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  58. We really need to internalize the fact that we can make one decision that significantly changes our entire existence and shapes the rest of our lives.

  59. I drive that’s what I do ..I alway have a conversation with myself whilst driving thing like look at this guy why wouldn’t he dim his lights,is that a hyena cross ING the road ..are you serious you are going to overtake here on a bend things like that ..does it help I don’t know it also come to how far are you in the process of overtaking .

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  60. Here I am seated and feeding from the feet of Christ and I’m literally seated….what a comical God. Michael may God perfect that which concerns you.

  61. It’s sad that you can tell your true friends mostly when you’re hurt or down or something bad has happened to you. I don’t want to wait until then to know my true friends!

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  62. To God be the glory for the far that he has come.That bit about friends hurts.Hats off to the friends who are still around.For the family be blessed.Haki Niko you go to hosi and eat the food hahaha

  63. Hi Michael,
    I give God thanks and bless His name for the grace that is sufficient in your life, it sad what happened to you.
    it’s a testimony that you are alive, the book Jeremiah10: 23 (Lord, I know that people’s lives are not their own;
    it is not for them to direct their steps.) this reminds us God is in control and has a better plan for us (Jeremiah29: 11 For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.)depend on Him to grant you peace that surpass human knowledge and reveal His intended purpose for you as His child. look at your life and you will find positivity amidst the chaos of it.
    Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. (col3:2)

  64. “Don’t go chasing waterfalls please stick to the rivers and the lakes that you are used to , i know that you’re gonna have it your way or nothing at all but i think you’re moving too fast.”.. this story reminded me of the TLC song. young people chasing the fast lane and the fast life,am glad he lived to tell the story, found salvation and is taking the experince postively.

  65. I thought I was shameless with food, Biko you are beyond shameless. We shall be delivered. I am reminded to be grateful everyday.

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  66. Wow! I have been reminded of the accident I got in 2000 that left me bedridden for months! Surely I was far from God and coz of His much love, the incident brought back the closeness! Thx Biko. Quick recovery Michael. Keep the faith. He is able

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  67. “You think you have friends, but what we have are acquaintances,” I say. “People we drink with.””

    I have always preached that gospel…
    Invest in 1 or 2 genuine friends.. its not easy to get one, but look for such a person who is true and real.

    The million dollar question is, How do you find that one person, who can be your friend UNCONDITIONALLY?

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  68. A touching story indeed. “I’d walk in whatever direction my legs take me.” Reminds us to show gratitude for all we have and make the very best of every moment in life. His strength and determination to live positively is overwhelming. So inspiring

  69. thank you for sharing, and for reminding me to appreciate what i have and to take a day at a time. May God keep and bless you Micheal

  70. That part of not being able to control one’s bowels really got me. May Michael walk again. I appreciate every single thing in my life… every

  71. “I’m the furnace being beaten and burned as a sword in the fire in preparation for my task” …. looking forward to seeing what God will do through Michael

  72. I live his positivity about life,having had a near experience like him, I wish him all the best as he recovers. You will walk again buddy. Keep believing.

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  73. I like his positivity about life,having had a near experience like him, I wish him all the best as he recovers. You will walk again buddy. Keep believing.

  74. Wow. Inspiring. Thought provoking. Awakening. Beautiful writing as usual. I’ve read your work since Man talk and I get the feeling that you, like many of us, have a subtle desire to seek God but keep ignoring it for whatever reason. Procrastination perhaps? All you require is the faith of a mustard seed. God is alive, exists and is sovereign. Most importantly, God loves you and would like to know you personally. And this goes for every single person, irrespective.

  75. I pray this guy will be able to walk again. Indeed in life, we face extreme circumstances, in order for God to teach us something. We should always be thankful to God even during hard times like what we are facing with the virus.