OPINION: Inside a flying car into a ravine

Last Sunday I was privileged to meet my brother, college-mate and friend, William Lobulu, also a veteran scribe, in Arusha.

Remember, Lobulu is the one who, after religiously reading my life misadventures, wrote saying surely I must be suicidal.

I then wrote back telling him that I am definitely not suicidal. Rather I happen, mysteriously, to be in the middle of several hair splitting incidents.

Naturally, after the normal brotherly protocol we revisited the topic. He was still adamant that I must have a suicidal tendency. He reminded me of another incident at the University of Dar es Salaam in 1976.

It happened the day after we the Dusonians – members of the Dar es Salaam University Students Organisation (DUSO) – received our Boom.

The Boom was the annual subsistence allowance extended to us by the Government to facilitate our university lifestyle.

Naturally instead of spending it on vital student accessories most of us literally boozed it.

Our lecturers knew it and even suspended all classes for the Boom week.

So on that day we, four of us, merrily boarded our UDA bus to Kinondoni where we stormed our favourite pub, Matumbi bar. It was here that we met our former high school mate who was now working with the national security forces.

He was always buying us drinks in the many cases we met, appreciating our money-less status as students. Naturally on this day, we decided to revenge.

For almost six hours we guzzled down several ‘warm’ Safari lagers as we munched through several rounds of mouth- watering chunks of nyama choma.

We were soon joined by two other Dusonians and a young lady who was definitely attracted to our temporarily fat wallets.

It was at this stage that someone breached the idea of us all relocating to an Ubungo joint, the White House, where on that day the famous Makassy band was making its maiden appearance. We all agreed to the idea, after all our security friend drove a VW (kobe) car.

Eight of us, including the driver and the lady, squeezed ourselves into that tiny car and took off.

But on account of having demolished a good portion of our Boom at Matumbi we agreed to pass by the University, to replenish our funds.

It was while leaving the hill, as the university is fondly called, when it all happened.

As we drove down the sharp slope from Hall One and Two to the ‘T’ junction bordering the Bookshop the breaks of our car failed. The driver was left with only two options; to either take the sharp corner making the car roll over several times, or just drive ahead and plunge the car into the ten meters deep palm trees- dotted ravine.

We unanimously opted for the latter and literally flew over the top of the palms and crashed with a loud bang on the ravine below.

That was around 8pm and the bang attracted all those who were in the neighbouring halls and cafeteria.

They all assembled on the high banks of the ravine with all types of torches and lights trying to floodlight the scene. Nobody dared to descend into the ravine fearing the inevitable.

But no! I was the first to come out with only a tattered finger and the rest followed. We all miraculously survived the accident except for my poor finger.

We were soon lifted out of the ravine and put in the college ambulance with instructions that we all be rushed to the Muhimbili National Hospital.

As we reached the Ubungo junction we successfully convinced the ambulance driver, with a promise of some free booze, that he instead deliver us to the White House Joint.

It is here that we danced to Makassy’s music until dawn when we returned back to college and wobbled our way into our rooms.

I and my roommate and adventure-mate must have slept until noon when we were rudely woken up by two stern looking gentlemen who wanted to know about previous day’s misadventure.

We realized that this was a bit fishy. How did these guys walk into out locked room, and why the questions? We blanked out everything saying we were so boozed up that we could not recall a thing.

We later learnt that the two were from the national security services.

Monday came and I was in class, when our lecturer, the late Godwin Kaduma, talked about the accidents, jokingly saying that he would not be surprised that I was among those who flew into that ravine.

Silentum engulfed the class. Somebody whispered into the lecturer’s ear that indeed I was among those in the car. He profusely apologized.

To underscore his apology he treated the whole class that evening to a Kitimoto Choma and booze spree at Mama Nguruwe’s joint at Survey, near the then Ardhi Institute.

Warning: Never try this driving stint in your life!

The author is a veteran journalist and communication expert based in Arusha