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Submission for the https://timbu.com/ creative writing contest

Having anxiety and being adventurous at the same time, is an extreme sport. It is like your DNA is on a constant battle on which personality should possess over your body. A forever tag of war. But whenever things go unexpectedly, anxiety ALWAYS wins.

So here we are, at 2 a.m. at the middle of nowhere, bushes everywhere and smoke emerging from our car. There is a deep moment of silence.

‘Hapa ni kubaya,’ (this is a bad area) Farouq says, holding the door handle hesitantly.

‘Ehh lazma tukae chonjo,’ Mullah says, looking at the other two men at the front seats; my brother Saeed and his friend Farouq. Seconds tick away as the men still contemplate what step to take.

‘What is happening?’ I ask from the back seat.

It is obvious. The car has broken down. Heavy smoke is still rising from the front bonnet of the car. My mind is already imagining a group of shaggy looking men with blood-shot eyes emerging from the bushes with pangas and rungus. ‘Ni kubaya’ keeps ringing in my head. Is this how we die? Be attacked by some idle, ruthless, heartless humanbeings and be slashed to be unrecognizable pieces of meat?

‘I can check the smoke while the two of you look out for the animals,’ Farouq says.

‘We have a panga here,’ my brother Saeed says.

‘Wait, what animals?’ I ask.

‘We have lions here…and all types of wild animals roaming around the forest,’ Mullah says.

Wait what?! So now we won’t be victims of a ruthless, idol gang but of wild animals who would carry our helpless bodies to the bushes for a feast.

My elder sister is calmly seated next to me, focused on what the men are discussing.

‘This panga is small,’ Mullah says, ‘and rusted.’

‘Why do you drive around with a panga under your seat anyway?’ I ask my brother.

‘For emergencies. Like these.’

Seems wild. I wouldn’t be able to carry a panga with me around without thinking that it is exactly what will be used to slash my head when I run into bad people. You can’t blame me for thinking like that anyway. Have you watched the news lately?

‘We need water,’ someone says. We pass the only gallon of water left with us.

The three men step out of the car. Mullah is hanging on the doorway with his phone torch looking towards the forest. All doors have been left open, you know, in case an animal emerges out of nowhere and they have to jump back in. But what if the animals decide they are the ones to jump in huh?!

Farouq is pouring the water into the car while dubbing it with a piece of cloth. My brother Saeed is in between watching the other side of the forest and helping Farouq. All the water is eventually used up. They all rush back into the car, close the door, shut the windows and put off all the lights.

‘We just have to wait for the car to relax,’ Farouq says, as we all burst out laughing. ‘It is true. We just have to give it time to relax then we will be good to go.’

‘By the way do you know that a lion won’t attack you if you don’t provoke it?’

‘Who said?’ Someone asks.

‘I know so. Hyenas are the worst. And I hear they are common here.’

‘This is a bad area to stop,’ Farouq repeats.

I am surprised how everyone is staying calm. We are about 10-15 kilometres away from Mtito Andei. All cars passing by are moving at a super speed. The engine won’t start. The smoke in our car won’t stop. My sister is chatting away something while laughing. My mind is distracted. I can point out a hundred things that can go wrong right now.

‘Lubnah,’ my brother calls out my name, ‘you wanted a road trip huh? Here it is. The real road trip,’ he says while laughing.

I laugh nervously. I had just completed my final semester exams the evening before and upon reaching home, my brother suggested I accompany them for their road trip to Nairobi. What better way to treat yourself after a hard paper?! I had been too excited; rushed through the entire packing process because I could not risk being told last minute that they changed their mind or there is no longer space for me. I didn’t want to waste a minute in the house anymore. Road trip huh?!

It is almost half an hour later and there doesn’t seem to be any progress. The men step out once again and this time, Farouq tries to stop the lorries with his flashlight. One lorry seems about to stop but decides it is not wise to stop by a forest at past 2 a.m. Another lorry stops but the driver doesn’t have a rope to pull us to Mtito. Mullah is holding a panga like he is ready for a fist fight with anything coming his way. He is skinny and kinda short. Would he really manage? I admire his confidence though. If he dies, at least he dies a hero.

The three men rush back into the car. A moment of silence. My sister and I are saying all sorts of prayers now from a book we had with us. But my mind is too distracted I tell my sister I will recite whatever I know off head. You should know, anxious people have some six common ways to deal (more like reacting) with situations, ‘panic, cry uncontrollably, over-eat, not eat entirely, over-sleep or have insomnia.’ I can’t panic. I see it in movies all the time. Anxious people tend to make a situation worse 100% by panicking. I can’t panic. I shouldn’t panic. Because now we are stuck just beside a forest with wild animals roaming freely, waiting for free meat. I can’t be the free meat that calls for the animals’ attention. I try to breathe in deeply. And next, I decide to stress-eat the mabuyu we had carried.

People are telling dark jokes now. Coping mechanism I believe. When there is nothing to do, you can try to make it funny. At least if we are dying, we die laughing right? My sister and brother tease my quite silent and tense self. They know what is going on in my head.

It is already 3 a.m. Mullah decides to light a fire just beside the road to scare away the animals and hopefully, make some driver stop and help us. Farouq goes back to waving his flashlight towards the passing cars.

‘This fire is risky. There is so much wind and this is a big forest. It could start a huge fire that we can’t control,’ my brother Saeed says.

‘No it will be fine. This is what will keep the animals away. They can’t come near the fire,’ Said says.

We stay like that for a while and the fire seems to get bigger. My brother decides to push the car behind because it is a petrol car and we don’t really need another tragedy right now.

The fire is making me nervous. What if it decides to spread its wings and conquer the land of the wild? Mullah is guarding it closely but I can’t help but imagine it really spreading, our car catching fire and exploding, turning each one of us into fresh kebabs for breakfast for the animals. The imagination is vivid. I can imagine the headlines in the morning, ‘A huge fire burnt down a big part of the forest and has killed five people beyond recognition.’

I shake my head in an attempt to throw out the thoughts. I can’t tell them to anyone else because anxious people tend to make situations worse remember? Everyone else is trying to stay calm and still making dry, dark jokes. I should adjust like everyone else.

‘Tell him to put it off,’ I suggest. Saeed had already suggested that previously but Mullah was insistent on keeping it burning.

A lorry finally stops several steps ahead of us. All three men rush to it. And finally, they come with a rope. Our hope has now been reignited. Mullah puts out the fire with his feet. Don’t ask me how. He just did it.

We watch keenly as we start being pulled towards Mtito. We say our grace to God. (The driver later tells us that he saw a rhino nearby when he was pulling over to help us. He almost didn’t stop. True Story)

We get to Mtito minutes to 5 a.m. We have our very early breakfast, perform our prayers and get back to our packed car and sleep. Short, restless naps. We can hear people moving in and out of the restaurant. We had two options; either leave one of us with the car while the rest take up another car/bus to Nairobi or wait for another car from Mombasa to take us back home. We weigh our options. We have to go back home.

Saeed and Farouq escort Mullah to the roadside and get him a ride to Nairobi. The four of us are now left. When you have several free hours at hand, is when you take notice of every minute passing by. We chit-chat a bit, eat, eat more, sleep again, laugh at whatsapp videos and memes, eat again. I am busy eating half the time. The overwhelm has to be taken care of somehow. So food it is. I pretend to be a youtuber for a minute and take images of the very aesthetic blue and grey clouds. I am searching for the silver lining I say.

It is only 4 p.m. when help finally arrives from Mombasa. We are extremely tired, sweaty, smelly and sleepy. We get a mechanic nearby who fixes a metal between the two cars so we are pulled back home. You think that is the end of the journey? You are mistaken. The journey has just begun…

To read part 2 click on the following link: https://lubnah.me.ke/31-hours-part-2/

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Photo Courtesy: http://www.getsunsetbeachrealestate.com/

About a week ago, my father went missing after Isha prayers. How that went down is a story almost like the ‘Don’t breath’ movie…

My sisters and I were all seated in our room together with mum. Each of us was in a different corner studying for their own exams that were approaching while mum busily texted our other sister abroad. Just out of nowhere mum started, “Your father is really late from the masjid today.” None of us replied because mum always got anxious easily and she had such a talent at making me panic too. I, for one, didn’t want to hear of anything to excite my heart with anxiety at that moment, so I just sat calmly and read on. Some minutes later, mum walked to the window where she could directly see the masjid, “Your father isn’t back yet!”

“Relax mum, relax. He will be back any minute,” I told her as I went on studying. Soon enough, my elder sister’s husband came back home from work and they left, leaving two paranoid creatures alone with one younger but stronger one to keep us sane enough.

As mum kept worrying about dad being late, I kept checking the watch in my phone.

“Ma, it’s just 9 p.m. Say ‘audhubillah mina shaytan rajim’ (I seek refuge to Allah from the Satan). There is probably a meeting at the masjid, or he is talking to one of his friends, or someone needed his help urgently…all that is possible,” I said as I patted her shoulder.

“Audhubillah mina shaytan rajim,” she repeated after me.

Mum thereafter convinced my sister to go check if he is still in the masjid. It isn’t far so it is safe enough especially since we could see her movement. She came back and stood right beside our car, looked up at the window where we were waiting and said, “the masjid is closed.”

Now one thing about my father, which I really admire is that, he was never the kind to roam around places or talk to friends for hours. He was either out for a purpose or inside his home with his family. He is never late home unless it is beyond him. If he wants to go somewhere a bit far from home he wouldn’t go without informing my mother or at least one of us to inform mum. So this was kind of odd. Our masjid is just 3 minutes away. What could have kept him out for more than one hour?

So nowadays, i’ve been reading several self-help books to conquer anxiety and such, and since I know mum’s anxiety is enough to knock me off, I tried really hard not to worry. Time to time, I kept telling her that he will be back soon. My 17 year old sister was in control. Not showing her worry nor saying much, she was just by the window waiting for him to appear. His phone was at home that meant that he had no plan to go anywhere after the prayers and it also meant, we couldn’t call him.

It was already getting past 10 and now I was the one chanting, ‘audhubillah mina shaytan rajim’. I was really struggling not to allow the anxiety get to my head. My sister and I went to the next door neighbour who is also his friend to inquire if he was there or if they had seen him; but they hadn’t. My mum called my brother to inquire from my dad’s friends whether he was with them. His two closest friends said they hadn’t seen him that day let alone that hour. LOL now you know what that means. It means me allowing my super-active anxiety hormones start doing what they have to. My mother? Don’t even ask; she was already having stomach upsets.

We were all reciting duas now; seriously praying, each one of us at a different window. I kept pacing from the window in the bedroom to the one in the sitting room, just hoping to see him appear. Thoughts were now flowing like a waterfall. What could have happened between the masjid and home? An accident? No, it is so close home we would have known by now. Kidnapping? Raid by the police? Perhaps took him as Al-shabaab suspect? Lol but then why would my dad be a suspect anyway?! I started thinking of the families in news crying for their missing persons, of the facebook posts of people missing their dead dads, of what if my dad had gotten into a fight which ended at the police station??

My sister’s baby started crying in the room, barely thinking clearly I walked to him and fed him, “I have to remain sane,” I said to myself. “Things could get worse here…and I am the eldest available. If anything is wrong with dad, mum would need a sane person.” Now my anchor during my panic attacks has always been my best friend. She was the only one who could make me think rationally at such situations. So I was texting her while still checking one window to the other. Making me stay positive, to calm down bla bla bla…lol those are the perks of having a doctor as your best friend 😀

My mum insisted that I should call my elder sister and her husband to come join us in the search. But I told her, “What help can they really offer now? We can’t do anything ourselves except wait. We would just be making two more people anxious like ourselves.” And trust me, waiting helplessly without doing anything is the biggest test of patience.

We were barely exchanging words now; my sister,mum and I that is. Each one was either deep in thoughts, deep duas or deep in conversation with the people who could have information about dad. Mum didn’t want to create a fuss so she tried to only ask the closest friends and the neighbours who pray with him. My brother had already arrived by then. He went back to the masjid. checked again, went to ask the neighbours…no sign of him…

Several minutes past 11 I saw my brother, his friend and dad’s friend walking past home. I knew what that meant. They were going to the police station. It also meant, no good news will come out of this.

Only one thing was in mind now. If something has happened to dad, if he is dead…what would be the situation here?! How would mum be? Does he have any debts we don’t know about?…Drowning in the thoughts and after several hours of stopping myself, I broke down, silently…

I could hear my mother move some utensils in the kitchen of which she explained to me later. “I knew I couldn’t be sure what news was coming then; maybe a dead body so I started clearing the place…”

As I stood by the window, stomach upset and tears in my eyes, I saw my dad appear from the direction of the mosque. I just shouted, “Mum! dad is here!” before running downstairs to open the door. I wasn’t planning to cry in front of my dad but when our eyes met, I just started crying and hugged him.

“Where were you?!! We were worried?!” I said, still in his arms. He remained silent and patted my shoulder, which made me fear that maybe something had been done to him . But by then my mum was already downstairs too, her voice shaky. He looked at us with surprise, like he was confused why we were crying.

“I was in the car. I dozzed off unintentionally…”

Mum said this after she heard that statement, “Upon seeing him, I was already about to cry but when he said he was in the car, I forced back my tears” like ‘what??!!’ So she kept complaining and complaining how worried she was and how she had thought of worst of the worst.

“It isn’t my fault. I came here and rang the bell for almost an hour (which apparently had a problem). No one opened the door for me. It was getting pretty cold out here. I didn’t have a phone to call any of you. So I just got into the car knowing Saeed (my brother) would be here any minute now and we can come in together. But then I just suddenly dozzed off and right now the only thing that woke me up was a noisy car that passed by.”

By the time he woke up he didn’t know that it was already getting to midnight. My mum quickly called my brother to stop them from going to the police station. My elder sister and husband had already been informed that dad was missing just a few minutes earlier by my brother and coincidentally, while mum was dialing my bro’s number, my sister’s call came in and thus both of them were in the call when mum said, “He is back home. You don’t have to go to the police.”

For a few minutes after dad was home, we were still contemplating what was going on.

“Imagine if they had already reported to the police…in fact the police would have wondered who reports a missing healthy, normal, grown-up man after just four hours? Then afterwards going back to inform them that he had just dozzed off in the car.” We were now laughing about it but after every statement, each one would say, ‘alhamdulilah’ (Thank God). That was a mighty scare. But for people like me and mum, we believe there are lessons to be learnt in everything that happens.

“Imagine I stood right beside the car when I was telling you the masjid was closed, I didn’t even notice he was in there. And when Saeed went to ask the neighbours he passed by the car more than three times and still…We just weren’t meant to see him,” my younger sister said.

“Oh my, Imagine the power of Allah. How He can shift just something really small in your life and how it can mess you up. Imagine just how all this happened because of the bell that we didn’t hear…God was testing our patience and the value of dad amongst us,” I told them.

“He wanted us to just have a taste of what it would feel like if He took him away from us,” Mum said.

We remained silent for a moment, contemplating that statement. It was heavy…and it made me dread the day I will lose my dad…or any of my family members.

We could barely sleep after that, we were just narrating how we felt during the trial, laughing at how silly the end is, at the wild thoughts we had, at how we made other people anxious too, telling the story to our sister abroad and keeping her in suspense just like I did to you right now 😀 …We slept late that night and in the morning, we had so much to tell to our elder sister and her husband.

If I have learnt anything from this experience is that, perhaps if it were not for this, my dad wouldn’t have known how much exactly I love him or how we all do. And that the worst words are those left unsaid.

P.S I love you dad!