Breanna vs. the ditch

Last Tuesday. But first let me explain the state I was in before what happened. I had been sick with the flu a few days, starting to feel a bit better, but still weak and sometimes feverish, sometimes flu brained=spacey. Also, I was not taking my required prescribed medication for clinical depression...why would I do that? I was trying to save some shillings. My scrip costs us about $125/ month here, thanks to the available Indian generic, however, $125 is still a lot when you have not had your medical insurance company reimburse any of your medications this year so far and it seems to be coming out of pocket, for the time being, and you're trying to save as much as possible for the time being in order to have LOTS of fun when Mom and Dad visit the end of November. This is a silly argument, and I now know my little experiment to see "if I actually still need it, anyway" failed miserably. It was a rotten week and a rotten day. I had agreed with a vendor to pick up 50 pictures made from Banana tree bark to send to the US for Christmas gifts. He would only be at the westgate shopping center that Tuesday (a traveling craft/ artisans' market). I had asked him to make these 50 pictures, and had already delayed pick up one time. So, I sallied forth with Jerry's gps (global positioning system) to enable me to easily arrive at this shopping center which is rather complicated to get to in my estimation. Sadly, Betty, our gps, was having difficulty connecting to satellites, so I had to travel mostly from memory, which you will remember is somewhat compromised due to flu...but the artist has been calling all day to find if I'm still coming with his windfall. Because of traffic, I can't get into the left lane I need to be in to turn, so have to go around, in the process, I find a pretty sad road I choose to shortcut across, and follow van in front of me who seems to be maneuvering around the rain filled holes in the road rather well. I follow him up to turn onto the main road I was supposed to be on anyway. Off he goes. Off I try to go, but am held back, by, I assume, a curb. I give it gas, rock back and forth, it's a no go. By now, a handful of Kenyan men walking by have stopped to watch the mzungu (term used for us westerners here). I decide to take a peek at this curb I'm stuck on. Wowie, wow, wow! (As Junie B. Jones would say). It IS a curb I am hung up on, but I am straddling a 4 foot wide cement culvert, my rear tire is hanging over it, useless, and my front tire has been punctured between the curb and culvert and is very flat. I am amazed I did not drive headlong into the thing and totally wreck the car. Now the handful of Kenyan men watching me and observing my handiwork is about ten or 15 guys. They offer to help, but expect payment (likely because I'm mzungu). I have no cash on me but 5 US dollars I was planning to exchange at the shopping center, as well as getting Kenyan shillings out of the atm. So, in Swahili, the men discuss the exchange rate for a US dollar to determine if this is reasonable payment. I get the gist of what they are saying, but am frustrated at my very small grasp of Swahili for a situation such as this! I get in the car and call Jerry, now maybe 20 guys crowded around the car. I'm not sure they are going to help. Jerry answers, I ask if he's busy and he says, "Yes." I find out later he is actually sitting in an airplane getting ready to take off to do one final test he must take before submitting his paperwork, finally, to receive his Kenyan Pilot's license. I instantly start bawling. Normally I am not a crier. In fact, I'll usually say, "It's just a fact. I don't cry." But the combination of the flu, my poor unmedicated chemically imbalanced brain, possibly having ruined the car, and being helpless in a crowd of strangers that could easily take advantage of me, well, I lost it! 


Jerry said he was on his way. 


In the meantime, the group of men picked up and moved the car out of and away from the ditch and changed my tire. I gave them the $5 and the change in my wallet. One guy in the crowd complained, several other guys assured me it was fine and to not worry. Thanks God, for those kindly guys! 


I hobbled over to the shopping center, I was only about a mile away. I pulled into the parking garage and bawled. When I saw Jerry I bawled again. 


He bought mea latte at a coffee shop and went and found the guy to get the pictures from. He bought pizza for dinner and drove home with me, leaving the motorcycle in the parking garage. What a guy! He only looked at the damage after all that and didn't seem particularly annoyed. I love this man!


oh and btw, to any close friends, family or medical professionals reading this, I will never voluntarily be without my meds again, lesson learned. :) Thank you, God for meds!