Guardian Angel

7 days after the anniversary of my 33rd year. I was tired that night. So tired. We had been driving all day. I’d say 75 percent of which was on the dried out red clay roads that bridge the gaps of one African culture to the next. We were headed into the land of the Karamojong. At the time, I didn’t know much of the Karamojong, only what I had heard from our guides that day, as well as a French traveling man back at the hostel in Kampala. We got a late start that day. It’s hard to keep good time in a place where ones perspective of what is actually “good” and what is actually “time” is completely skewed. “This is Africa” as they say.

Since that morning I’ve learned that when you take into account a late start, a search for a cash point, dusty clay roads, 6 hungry travelers, and two flat tires, a 6 hour journey can turn into a 12 hour journey rather… slowly… Hungry slow. Covered in dust slow. Metal seat springs bouncing under your ass as the vans leaf spring suspension bounces over the dirt roads. Slow. Changing mangled tires as the sun sets slow. Slow. So we pulled into town, broken and tired. The town of Kaabong. We missed our target by about 60 miles. 2 hours of driving. We never had a chance. So Kaabong it was. After we pulled into town and tried to rush our repairs. Still optimistic that we might make it to Kidepo.

Weary from our travels, it was a…different place. Headlights reflected off dust kicked up by passing cars and motorcycles. Silhouette’s of strange figures move from one dark side of the road to the other. Constant activity in a place that seems like it hasn’t changed since the beginning of time. Whenever that was, whatever that means. I sit on the corner, observing, studying bullet holes in the sides of the concrete buildings that line the streets, patiently waiting for our guides to tell us our next move. “Tonight we should stay here”. After some discussion, tired, we all agree, this is the best place to be.

We chose a hostel run by a woman by the name of Margaret Mary. We paid the woman and she promptly showed us to our rooms. Each room was labeled in spray painted, stenciled letters. Names such as “Bethlehem”, “Galilee”, “Nazareth”, and “Sidon”. Clearly Margaret Mary was a woman of the Bible. Nazareth was where I would be spending my night. Unlocking my padlocked, metal door, and swinging it open, I realized as slow as my day was, my night was quickly beginning.

After opening the door I flipped the light switch on, eager for a bed to rest on. I looked past the two twin beds wrapped in mosquito netting, a familiar sight along the travelers path. Beyond them, a scurry of of something. Something small. Something fast. Something running along the wall. From right to left. From the light, towards the shadows. Ugh. My day was not finished after all. So tired. So so tired. I scanned the room again. Concrete floor, two twin beds, mosquito nets draped over the top, four concrete walls, one metal door, one window, two curtains, drop ceiling, one missing tile. One missing tile. Left hand corner. One missing tile. What’s in the ceiling? What comes from that hole? What goes into that hole? What was that thing that scurried across the wall? Left hand corner, one missing tile. Somethings not right here. Right. Right. Much like “good” and much like “time”, in this place “right” and one’s perception of what “right” actually is also becomes skewed.

I enter the room. I was lucky. Lucky to have a bed, lucky to have two beds. I checked under both beds. Nothing. Lucky. One bed for my bags, one bed for my self. Before dropping my bags I decided I would pull the beds away from the walls. I pulled the right one first, the left one second. Thinking I would be giving myself a nice buffer from whatever creature I was sharing the room with. As I pulled the left bed away from the wall there was another scurry of a creature. Fast. Very fast. This time from left to right. Fuck. Very fuck. I dropped my bags onto the bed. Right. Right. Facing my fears. Facing my fears. I climb onto the bed to my right. Mindfully tucking the mosquito net under the twin mattress. Thinking to myself that whatever is in here with me is much larger than a mosquito. Mosquitoes. Mosquitos would be a nice problem to have right now. Now, my entire reality, skewed.

In the corner, on the wall. Up close and personal. No more than a foot away. The largest, fastest spider I’ve ever seen. Hand size. The size of my hand. Fuck. I’d rather not. We make eye contact. Eyes contact. She scurries away. Under my bed. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Under my bed. Tired. So tired I am. I crawl completely into bed now. I finish tucking the rest of the mosquito net under the mattress. I lay my head on the pillow. Tired. So tired. Spiders. Spiders. Spiders are my greatest fear. Nothing in this waking world scares me more than spiders. Spiders under my bed. Spiders in the ceiling. Locked in a room. Just spiders and myself. In a strange town. In a strange country. In the middle of the world. Tired. So tired. I close my eyes. Alone. Tired. So tired. I don’t believe I can fight tonite. Spider, oh spider, tonite you’re my only friend. Please watch over me. In my sleep tonite the demons will be coming for me, like they always do, I’m sure of it. Please watch over me.

-The Time Traveler