Letter to the matatu driver who destroyed my life

The young PhD holder was walking along a Nairobi Road from one of those little gigs where intellectuals gather to pontificate about how to save a world that long gave up on itself. Then a matatu tore out of the blue, smashed into her, shattered her bones and life, almost killed her. The driver ran.

So horrific were her injuries that her father, an elderly African man, wept. Her orthopedic surgeon, a veteran with over 40 years experience, later whispered that he had feared for her life. And in a touching sense of humanity, two traffic police officers who rescued her from the scene visited her in hospital and gave her Sh2,000. “Buy something,” one of them mumbled.

It has been three years, multiple surgeries and countless hospital visits. She smiles, her eyes lighting up with old mischief. But her voice says she is tired; tired of  hospitals and scars and pains and fears that she will endure for the rest of her life.

This is her story…

Dear Faceless driver,

You don’t know me and I have never seen you. You probably never wonder what happened to me. I on the other hand, wonder about you every single day, wonder who you are, whether you have children; a conscience and more importantly, how your life has turned out.

You see, my life has not been the same since we ‘ran’ into each other that unlucky Friday afternoon almost three years ago. You probably live a care-free life with a ‘business as usual’ mentality not giving me a second thought. A simple ‘sorry’ from you would have made a huge difference; I do not believe that you intentionally caused the accident. But because you did not care to be sympathetic or find out what became of me, here is what your callous actions did to my entire life that fateful afternoon when in your old matatu, you crashed into me and dragged me across the road as you over-sped, over-took other vehicles to most likely make an extra 50 bob.

Because of you, I cannot have the career I spent 8 years in university studying for. I am desk bound as I cannot walk transects, measure grass, sneak up on birds or run after tranquilized animals. As weird as these activities may sound to you, they are my calling and because of your foolishness, I can only watch from afar as my peers get on with it. Why can’t I partake in these strange activities you ask? Let me enlighten you. Amongst other things, you crushed my vertebrae, so my back is forever damaged and slightly misshapen; my right leg is messed up. I cannot stand for more than 15 minutes before experiencing that now familiar twinge of pain in my back and that annoying itch from my scars.

Because of you, my self-confidence took a major whipping. I never was the most confident bee in the hive, but your actions that day took away what little self-confidence I had. My body feels alien, I look at it and wonder how after managing to live 35 years without scars, I now have scars all over my body. For weeks I burst into tears anytime I stood before a mirror. I have been told ‘at least you are alive’, ‘it can’t have been serious if you are walking’, that I’m lucky most of the horrible scars are hidden, that I must have done something really bad for God to punish me this way and that I should be grateful because lots of people have it worse. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful to be alive, but THIS is my WORST and I would like to be able to truly exercise my right to cry over what I lost and how changed I am. But you wouldn’t know that, would you?

Because of you, I have had to learn about medical procedures I did not even know existed. I now know all there is to know as a non-medic about grafts, skin harvesting and expansions. Did you know that if a person does not walk or sit up for more than a week, their muscles atrophy and they have to learn how to walk all over again? Let me assure you it is not fun! I am currently recovering from my sixth theatre visit. I said to myself; ‘chin up, you are now a pro at this’ but I did not anticipate that I would have to endure a painful 12 week recovery period, that I may have to rush to the ER at all hours when my leg decides to have a mind of its own, that on some days, my body will wake up but my leg will decide to take the day off forcing me to use a crutch, that I will get stress related hives worrying that something will go wrong. Have I mentioned that at the end of these 12 weeks, I have to go back to theater? Fun times!

Because of you, I suffered from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.  Do you know what that is? If you don’t, let me give you a hint. Imagine being too afraid to sleep because anytime you close your eyes, you have flashbacks of that horrible moment. Imagine trying to cross a road and your entire body freezing from fear.  Imagine being too physically frightened to get into a matatu. Imagine having panic attacks anytime you get into a vehicle that in your now paranoid mind is being recklessly driven. Imagine being in a constant state of anxiety that something bad is about to happen. Imagine sinking into hopelessness so deep that nothing else matters. Now you know how it feels to have PTSD. Because of you, I had to go through months of therapy to figure out who I am, to appreciate that my life still has a purpose. But this accident has shown me that I am physically and mentally stronger than I thought, that I am not only a shy book loving introvert but I am a survivor. I am a survivor on my own terms in spite of your thoughtlessness and total disregard for my life.

In spite of you, I am eating life with the biggest spoon in my cupboard. I have run (or rather walked) a couple of marathons, hiked up small mountains and travelled off the beaten path to prove to myself that I can still do regular things.

In spite of you, I now have an engaging job that I totally enjoy and through which, I am making a difference.

In spite of you, I am slowly learning to wear my scars with pride, learning not to choke when constantly asked about how I got them scars or why I have ‘stitch marks’ on my chin and legs.

In spite of you, I am learning to forgive you (don’t hold your breath, this will take time!) but most importantly, I am learning to love myself more than before.