|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| Another ten......DEATH |
| Posted on 24/11/04 at 06:12 by NGONGE |
Today, I woke up earlier than usual. I had a shower, got dressed and had breakfast. I watched a bit of the BBC breakfast news, got depressed and decided to go to work. I had plenty of time so I decided to walk to the underground station. I was strolling casually along, watching cars drive by, school kids run around and bin men cleaning the streets. It was a nice day. It wasnt a very cold day and it wasnt warm either. It was just right. I found myself thinking about death! I wondered if I was a naturally morbid person! Why would I think of death on such a nice day like this?
I got to the station and managed to squeeze into the crowded carriage. I had a woman pushing a pram to my left, with the handle of the said pram almost up my backside. I had a couple of young girls to my right. I had no space to move. I felt suffocated. This journey was going to last another forty-five minutes! I told myself to calm down. I did.
The train stopped at the next station. The platform was full. We had no space in our carriage! He still pushed in. He was carrying a sports bag. He wedged himself between the young girls and me. He had a big beard. He was wearing Islamic dress. I was irritated. Now, I felt even more suffocated. He was a huge man. At least six feet tall and 17 stone of weight. His beard was down to his chest. His bag was rubbing against my leg. There was something solid in it! What could it be?
I found myself returning to my morbid thoughts. This guy was obviously a Muslim! I am a Muslim too. Shall I tell him now or shall I wait until he shouts Allah U Akbar and tells us to be ready to die?
I found myself thinking about the first part of my body that will feel the impact of the explosion! Shall I turn slightly round giving him and his bag my back? I remembered a fight I had when I was a kid. I remembered pushing my face against the other kids fist, thus, reducing the impact of his punch. Will that work here? Should I push my bottom against the bag? I reproached myself for not paying attention in my physics classes. I rebuked myself for not taking notice of warfare books. I reproved myself for ignoring smug TV reporters giving detailed explanations of how bombs explode and what damage they cause.
The baby in the pram cried! I panicked. Do babies sense these things? I looked at the man with the bag. He had a serious face on. He seemed to be deep in thought. Was he like everyone else on this carriage? Were he thinking of work and how miserable this tube journey is? Was he thinking about going self-employed? Maybe hes got children and hes thinking of their future? Maybe he split up with his wife? I looked at his hands.
The baby kept on crying. His mother was trying to shut him up and gave me an evil look when she caught me smiling at her baby! The train stopped! Why? I was getting paranoid now. This is the wrong time for a signal failure. Im suffocating here. I have a potential suicide bomber to my right and a rude council estate mother to my left. The saddest thing in the world is a lion that dies from starvation! Explode that bomb of yours already. I dont want to die of a panic attack.
The train suddenly moved again. It didnt move smoothly. It jerked. The pram handle went further up my back. The bags weight almost broke my leg. The owner of the bag looked at me, smiled and apologised. There is hope still! He smiled at me! Shall I tell him now that Im a fellow Muslim and that there is a baby in the tube? I almost blurted the words out. The train stopped at the next station and he got off! HE GOT OFF! In my shock, I almost pulled him back. This is not how it was supposed to be. What about the bag? Isnt he going to leave it in the tube? What a useless suicide bomber!
A group of people got in. I had no air to breathe. A man with a red face and funny looking zits stood between the pram and me. He had an ill face. He was thin and had an ill body. Even what was left of his hair looked ill! He started sneezing. He didnt seem to have tissue or a handkerchief! Some of his flying snot landed on the mothers face. She lost her temper and told him off. I smiled. She gave me a dirty look but I still beamed wider. The ill man sneezed again. It was a mighty explosion. The mother sniggered. I looked at her and carried on smiling while wiping my face. Silly woman doesnt know how lucky she is that the potential suicide bomber changed his mind! The ill man sneezed again! I started thinking about Anthrax....
|
|
| Discuss this article on the Forum |
| Comments |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|