Motorcyclists need a traffic pastor.

By Shikanda E. Hellen.

Today, I attest to the mantra: see it to believe it. I have been a Thomas ever since. Never in my life have I been an eyewitness not even a fake eyewitness who comes to give phony, lengthy and disputable testimonies to the police. This one was one of a kind. Scrubbing it off from my mind is hard. It happened. It is irreversible. It happened when I was on duty. Working for the nation and myself of course.
Wednesday 9th of September 2015, my colleague and I were assigned to go for fieldwork in some place in Western Kenya. We took a minibus christened ‘Respect’ by I don’t know who, maybe the owner. I sat right behind the driver, next to the window. This was a good position to see every tree by the roadside.
We took off from Kakamega town to Chavakali, which was the first stop. Thanks to the ‘traffic’ pastor who came to preach in the minibus. It was a sermon yes, though not in church. It was meant to enlighten our hearts to move closer to God and who does free things today anyway. He asked for blessed ‘TKK’. Maybe to quench thirst after speaking for that long. The touched fat pockets paid heed to his plea and gave pastor what belong to him. It was a blessing. He alighted and went to the next stage.
Smooth was our journey until we reached around Mukumu where there is diversion due to the Chinese road construction. It was not that bumpy. This time round I did not doze off as usual. I was wide-awake; looking at the latest fashion by the roadside; though I did not see any and yes waiting to have a look at the crying stone which am told stopped crying.
Now came fate. Only God knew that was going to happen. A motorcycle man approximately in his early thirties or late twenties was riding his motorcycle. These cheap motorcycles that everyone wants to buy for business. This, I can say… is a business of death. Not the Second generation one. Death caused knowingly. Ignorance and greed for quick money. I don’ t understand where he was hurrying to. The road was clear. No vehicles for disruption or anything that can lead to an accident. There, he fell down. His helmet rolled to the other side of the road. His motorcycle down. He couldn’t be left standing. He tumbled. A stone found its way into his head. Blood gushed from the head. God! It was so bad. I saw the unmistakably.
I can’t help seeing a motorcycle over speed since then. The man lied helpless. I was touched, but the vehicle I was in couldn’t come to a halt. The good thing about God, He sends angels to rescue his people. A saloon car passed by. What happened next I’d wish to know but our minibus was moving. Remember we were to do some errand somewhere.
I was not settled though. I kept thinking of the helpless man I just saw blood oozing from his head. Did he die? Did he survive? Did that saloon car take him to hospital in time? Is he the breadwinner of an akuku-danger type family? I dreaded hiking on a motorcycle, I’d rather walk. If I happen to hike on one in future, the speed would be 10km/h; i will fake illness to be carried with that speed.
Any motorcyclist or any relative to a motorcyclist reading this article. What would you do if that incident happened to you? If you keep over speeding, you’re next my friend. Save that little precious life God has given you. Abide by the traffic rules. Thanks to our ‘traffic’ pastor. Our journey was safe only that our minds were not sound. Our motorcyclists too need a ‘traffic’ pastor. Maybe that would change their ignorance.