An Encounter with Tsavo Lions
The year was 2021. I had just bought my first car a Mitsubishi Lancer Cedia for Kshs. 200,000 from my brother in-law. You remember the one I told you used to overheat like a Chinese phone? Yes, that one.
One Friday evening, my two friends, Mathew and Alfonso, and I decided to head to the coast for the weekend. With a full tank, we left Nairobi at 7 p.m., driving past Machakos into the wilderness on our way to Mombasa. We made a brief stop at Mtito Andei around 11 p.m. for a meal, then continued the journey.
Somewhere in the middle of nowhere up to this day I still don’t know where the Mitsubishi began losing power. After a few jerks, it stalled completely, just like that feeling you get when KPLC lights suddenly go off. Baaas same vibe.
Luckily, Alfonso was a trained mechanic, so he eased the tension by assuring us it was probably the usual overheating issue. It was about 1 a.m. Trucks passed by but none stopped. With only our torches for light, we opened the bonnet and confirmed the worst: the engine had overheated and blown. We were going to need a breakdown service to tow us back to Mtito.
Just as we were about to make the call, it happened. Out of nowhere, a huge shadow leapt on us, knocking us to the ground. Regaining my senses, I looked up and there it was. A massive black maned lion staring straight at us. My blood froze. I swear, I peed myself on the spot.
Panicked, we scrambled for the car. Mathew and I squeezed inside, but before Alfonso could get in, the lion grabbed him by the leg and dragged him into the bush. His cries still haunt me to this day: “Waaaaiii, nisaidieni! Waaaaiii, nisaidieni!” I wanted to go after him, but Mathew grabbed my hand and hissed, “Buda! Kwani wewe ni Samson? Unaweza pigana na simba?” I shook my head. Reality hit me I couldn’t do a thing. We clutched each other inside the car as Alfonso’s screams faded into the night.
No vehicles had passed for a long while. Our phones had dropped during the chaos, and Mathew warned me not to get out: “Hizo vitu bado ziko around. Usitoke nje, buda.” We sat quietly in the locked car, waiting.
Then BANG! Something slammed onto the windshield. A second lion had returned. It climbed onto the hood, staring right at us through the glass. My whole life flashed before me. This was it ! the end. All my savings, my family, and worst of all, I was leaving my Nyashful Digo girlfriend to the hungry men of this country ! Especially those from Western Kenya !
I whispered a desperate prayer: “Ewe Mwenyezi Mungu, nisaidie.”
Mathew signaled me to stay low beneath the steering wheel. The lion roared, then slammed its paw against the windshield, cracking it but not breaking through. Thank God for modern car glass it held strong. Blood droplets trickled as the lion hurt itself trying to smash its way in. For a moment, we thought this was truly the end.
Then, suddenly, a powerful beam of yellow light flooded the car. The lion leapt off the bonnet and vanished into the thicket. A Maasai truck driver had spotted us and stopped. As I later learned, Maasai men draw courage when facing lions. He not only stopped but actually pursued the lion into the bush, where he found Alfonso badly injured but alive.
We rushed him into the empty truck, which the driver flew like an ambulance to the nearest town. Miraculously, Alfonso survived. To this day, he has never told us what happened in that bush with that black-maned lion.
One thing I know for sure: me and locally used second-hand cars never again.
The picture below is of the Mitsubishi the following morning, after it was towed.
Lots of positives
- Cunha = baller
- Mbuemo will score +15 goals
- Healthy Amad will be a problem in the league
- We need to sort out our goalkeeping situation and … fast
I believe Hon Sudi is right, as much as Hon Sifuna is also correct, but not right..... There's nothing that can exist that's called 'average intelligence', at least not on earth!..... This is philosophy.... Love of knowledge 😁.....