You know those blurring scenes of the hero or villian moving with every last ounce of strenght or breath after being shot at or had a brutal fight? Yeah, that particular time when he is losing blood or has lost loads of blood and he’s staggering and finding it very pretty hard to walk… It turns out that those scenes are actually depictions of real experiences. At least I’ve been there…
No, I wasn’t shot at or involved in an accident. Turns out artemethal or lumefantrine will suck -God knows how many- pints of blood too. So, when your pharmacist tells you to take blood tonic after ingesting those anti-malaria drugs, heed! Else you wanna be soaked in your own sweat and barely being able to walk one metre without having to rest.
So, I was in a bus headed to mosh town and it was taking way too long to fill up. One hour plus and the bus was still short seven passengers. I mean, how often does that happen in a busy park? Maybe that was my guardian angel’s way of telling me to get right off.
I was starting to feel uncomfortable and it surprisingly wasnt because of the smelly wig the girl seated next to me had on. Placing my head on the seat in front of me or sitting with my back against mine didnt help either. I knew I had to alight.
I disembarked and felt the sudden rush of air on my flushed face. It was relieving and I prematurely thought the worst was over. Then it hit me, two paces after. I’ve always heard of light-headedness but hey, it’s always cool to experience some things first hand, init? Hehe… Then, at that moment, my brain automatically switched my eyes prematurely to night vision.
There I was, right in the middle of a Jason Statham movie, right after a bar fight or a massive brawl. Unfortunately, I was one of the villains, beaten black and blue. Only the thought of getting home got me going. I knew I was swaying, of course I felt myself sway with each step; and yes, I knew I had spectators all around watching me reenact the ‘drunken master’ moves. Hey, who cares? I wasn’t even conscious of their existence. Yes, I only felt myself trying so hard to hold on to the only tiny and strained rope that led out of the quagmire.
I stopped to rest on a filthy butcher’s table and not even the smell of rotten meat could dissuade me from catching some air and breath. It seemed to help, so i spent another 25 seconds head bent on my new best friend. By now I was sweating profusely and surprise, surprise… I didn’t care my cloth was ruined. (But wait, all this meat wey we dey chop sef, na only God knows o. I mean that table was freaging dirty… I doubt anyone would take their time to wash it clean before vendoring meat to customers.)
Yes, I successful navigated the market in toddler’s time and I then faced yet another daunting task- crossing the ever busy Iwo road. Ok, that took me some extra 600 seconds- the traffic was uncharacteristically light (hey, I sha crossed). Seniles cross this same road everytime, so what’s the fuss right? Except if they were half blind and using walking sticks I guess.
Done with the hard part, I set forth on home run. I boarded a bike and rested comfortably on the rider all the way to my house. OMG, I never knew I had such a lovely bed.
It would have been understandable if I had eaten or drank something, but hey, it was the first day of Ramadan and I surely couldn’t be asked to sever my fast, nba! Hehe, we strong like that… 💪