It’s been forever since I had real rest away from work, constant rush hours, and technology. I am seated on my desk on a second floor, in the corner where I spend most of my time in the oil City of Hoima in the mid-west of Uganda and a few hundred Kilometers to the D.R.C water board. Through the vintage of my window, I see the rolling oil rigs and scattered endless fires through the oil fields in the Savannah far away. Weary from long hours of work, and in a wake of a divorce with a lost battle for custody I ponder the next move with my materialistic success of digital marketing in the oil and gas sector.
It’s Friday 2039 and I have at last come to the decision to flee, to sell off the company, at the disposal of 5G internet I put up a request for those interested to express their intent to buy me out. At the same time, I make plans to travel and see the world at a relaxed pace, I place my bookings and payments through my Banking app. As the darkness starts to fall I park up and leave for what am assuming is the last time. I prepare to contact my small legion of employees first thing on Monday and inform them that they are at sea alone and at the mercy of the next owners.
I drive off my 2008 vintage Jaguar out of the parking, say my usual goodbyes to the security guards who as if am taking leave with the back seat filled with all kinds of files and photos and boxes. I smile and wave them off. I drive down the street heading to the supermarkets with loud noises from the airport probably fly people out of the oil city for the weekend. I do my shopping which is basically the first food but this time I add tinned food and camping gear. Head to the counter and chat with Lucy the teller I always go to because I crush on her but am to full of my self to make a move, she probably has noticed by now because my tips are way beyond normal.
I get in my red jaguar which is a funny color for a man like me. I drive slowly through the streets admiring young couples going out to enjoy the Friday nightlife with bright and high expectations of the future which am living and not really enjoying. I drive to the gate of my gated community and get in through the flats section down the narrow to the family cottages, park in front of my house besides my ford ranger pick truck. Seat in my car and look at my lifeless house, listening to the radio as Uncle of Bloggers Beaton does the last minutes of his spectacle show spectacle on New Africa Network. Then I get out of the car and start taking out my things. Moving the tinned food to the other car and camping gear.
I move to the living room, turn on the lights and activate the central security season, I through my junk in the microwave and head to the bathroom a few minutes am out opening beer and trying to settle and catch some television, flip through channels and catch Amanpour and Khanani examining African commodity markets. Lower the volume then call my ex-wife who takes an eternity to pick up and when she does she tells me am late and the girls are fast asleep not allowing me to talk she hangs up. She loathes me burying my self in work after the loss of our son. The next thing I see is the sun out in the morning.
I dress up, take coffee. Then move to the safe and pick out money, then put in all my phones and lock it up. I think of writing a note to leave behind then remember I stay alone. I then head out to a camping ranch on out of the city. I leave the car in the gazatted area for parking, watch new parents eat as I have lunch before I set out for a weekend trek in the bushes. I move out so far to look for a place to pitch my tent dismissing signs of danger. On my trail far in thoughts, I stumble into a hunting trap that crabs my lower right leg and in the bid to flee in a split second I fracture it. It’s getting dark and am laying on my back supported by the camping bag I brought along.
I try not to panic and look around as I think of what to do, as blood escapes my bloody through my shattered leg, I try to reach my bag in pain that have not felt before, pick out the first aid box I did not even examine when I was setting off. I try to mask the leg and take the pain killers as my head swirls and it’s in that moment that I see smoke in a distance down the hill about 700 meters from me. I then find the strength and stride down the hill limping with a crazy genk, halfway I throw away the bag and press ahead. When I get to the house with the fire it’s silent but the fire is flickering and now burning out in the open cooking area besides the house, I must have taken me an hour to get to the house. I knock onto the front door with all my stamina that is taken off for about 30 minutes and it seems the dwellers are fast asleep, but I keep on knocking and notice it belongs to one of the tour guides going by the clothing on the line outside. Am now fighting for wind to catch for my ailing body. By the time he woke up I was dying, I could barely hear him try to call for help through the radio as I passed out maybe for good.