It was exactly 17 days ago.
I have wanted to write about this crazy experience for a while now, but I had not, till now, gathered the courage to remember in vivid detail and colour what happened early that Wednesday morning.
See, I had planned to do a re-shoot for my short video, "A day in the life of.." this time, my subject was a train driver. I know, why a train? What's wrong with driving a truck! Or a bus! Even a matatu! My first interview had backfired, sort of...the camera I was using to record the interview did not record a thing, though the red record button was blinking as it should (plus it was the first time I had used it anyway, so perhaps it was me....hah!) So anyway, having made friends with the driver and his assistant we agreed that I would interview them on that Wednesday after they rearranged their shifts as necessary. They were the best drivers Kenya Railways had. I prepped the camera and charged the batteries the evening before and mentally rehearsed my questions...narri-a-chance at this backfiring a second time, that would be too much.
"OMG! What shall I wear?!" keeping in mind that I would have to climb the three perilous steps (read my January post titled "Surely, Too good, it must be true..." those steps! ) into the locomotive and I had worn by hot black tights the last time to facilitate the stretch... yes, really.
It was time. I ran down the platform towards the locomotive, the drivers had already fired up the engine and passengers were continuing to fill the coaches. I had some 10 minutes or so to get comfy and make sure my camera was working (this time) in the tiny little space where the drivers sit, but that was all good...We took off right on time, and left some poor latecomer at the entrance barrier...woiye, and the way she had ran!
It's amazing to see how people have no fear for the train. Honestly, getting used to walking up close and climbing onto the train for me has been a long, long road to travel. But it has thankfully been made easier by the fact that the platform now comes up real close and right to door level so I can step easily into the coach...if I don't look down too closely and catch a glimpse of the darkness beneath...
Riding through Pipeline and along Jogoo Road was quite the experience. Kenyans literally walk alongside this monster, even criss-crossing the track ever so casually! I even saw a woman running along the track under an overhead walkbridge (which she should have used, surely!) with the train whistling and coming down hard after her...she had barely ducked into the space between the bridge frames as the train roared past. All this time, I had long stopped breathing, my mouth was hanging open and my eyes did not dare blink. I couldn't believe it! Why aren't people afraid of the train??? The drivers told me that that was normal....the pedestrians were so used to the train that it had become a part of their lives. The whistle just reminded them that the train was on time, kama kawaida tu!
With my camera trained on the pedestrians ahead and with the train whistle blowing non-stop (it's procedure that as the train passes through a populated area, the driver must blow the whistle to alert the people and warn then to get out of the way, I captured just how dangerous life is if you live near a railway line. Come to think of it, the kind of structures along side the railway line, all along the way from Syoki to Nairobi (and I believe all the other areas on the East-side where the Kenya Railways trains serve) can be classified into two categories. Industries and Slums. Don't you get me started on why slums come up in these conditions (otherwise read as areas)!
Nothing! Nothing would have prepared me (Surely, even a warning??) for what I was to witness in the following very quick minutes of my ride in the locomotive of the Syokimau-Nairobi Train. Why? Why today, of all days, today when I was in the locomotive, recording everything. Why me?!
I noticed a certain guy in dark clothes, an extra large dark sweatshirt and a cap on his head shuffling ahead while looking back at the train as it approached. As we drew closer, he ran ahead again, in spurts and kept looking back at the approaching train. I think he was drunk because he kept weaving towards and away from the tracks as he continued to run slowly keeping some distance between himself and the locomotive. I kept my camera on him and zoomed in as I wondered why he did not seem to afraid to be so close to the moving train...everyone else was standing way off the tracks, in the bushes alongside. Suddenly, with no warning of what I was just about to witness, I saw him bend down and draw his length across the railway line. My first thought was, "why is this guy joking? He actually wants to tease us as he drags himself across the tracks on his stomach? I hope he has speed on his stomach...." The guy looked up at the locomotive as we bore down towards him. I shot a look at the driver who had leaned forward to see what the guy was doing and in that split second, we all realised that the guy had no intention of moving off the tracks! The driver threw the brake knob forward to stop the train, pulled at the overhead whistle and stood up....all this at the same time (no, he only had two hands but he couldda had four...). We were on top of the guy and past in less that a second later. My mouth was open but no sound came out, my eyes popping out my head (just like in the cartoons...) I don't even know where the camera was, was it still in my hand? Oh, it still was, I don't even know where my hands were, on my head, covering my mouth...my eyes went to the driver who looked at me, he's eyes were red... now when they changed colour? and he threw up his hands in a gesture that said, "I tried, but I couldn't stop the train".
Then I screamed.
And cried.
The assistant driver, a tall guy with a ready smile, who needed no help looking out of the windshield of the train locomotive that was placed high up had that smile frozen on his lips. He was looking straight ahead. In shock.
My mind went back to the visual I had of the entire length of the train, all eight coaches, as it curved out of the station and joined the Msa-Nairobi line.
All that train had run over that man!
I couldn't think anything further than that. I couldn't. My mind refused to imagine anything more.
I cried all the way to Nairobi, and kept asking the drivers if this was for real? Why me? Why today?
I got off the train and sat on one of the platform benches for a while. I could hear was some music, don't even know where it was playing, and the lady over the intercom announcing the arrival of another train...I think... The driver came for me a short while after and bought me some uji from there restaurant there. All I could think about was "Did that man really lay down on the railway line and we ran over him!" Did I really witness a suicide?" OH MY GOD! UuuuuuuuuU! I did not even want to think futher than that.
Now, I am angry.
Angry at that man for being so selfish. I say this with deep sensitivity. Things can get really thick, yes, and life can be harsh, true, but what could have been so terrible or unforgivable in his life that he should have destroy himself so brutally. Really, I know, only the wearer of the shoe knows where it pinches but I refuse to believe that anyone would want so badly out of this world and be so intent on making the people they leave behind so traumatised and hurt by their actions that they would do such a thing. With intent. Not an accident but intentionally. The man waited for just the right moment; when it would be impossible to stop the train in time then he looked up at us as we came down on him. Honestly? No!
What would make a man want to hurt so deeply the people who love him? I thought of his wife. His mother. His father. His children; what would they be told of their father?
What questions would they be left with for the rest of their lives, never to find answers to?
"Why did he do this to us?"
"Were we so unbearable?"
Did he not love us to do this to us and leave us to deal with the pieces, literally?"
I feel for the mothers, fathers, siblings, loved ones who have experienced suicide. I am sorry. I did not know the man but I was hurt, angry, and still have so many, many questions. Questions that will not be answered. I can only imagine your place...I am sorry. There is no comfort that can console or answer your questions, "why?" but that of God.
If this experience reaches anybody let it reach somebody on the brink. Please think. There will be people asking "How will I live without you?" "What did we do to make you do this?"
Suicide is not the answer.
