I LOOKED, AND THEN I LOOKED AWAY

Chapter 4 - "One Hell Of A Cigarette"

The madman could see his motion for prayer was enough to send shivers down my spine, but not enough to send me running away screaming. My fear was now mingling with a rage of my own.

I suddenly realized I was still smoking what could be my last cigarette. I guess if I was to die by the gun in a lonely African town, I might as well smoke the hell out of this last cigarette; for all it’s worth.

After pointing his semi-automatic at me once more, he slid his thumb against his throat with his other hand. His final warning had been made. I was going to die.
Still, shock kept my feet glued to the pavement. Where was the rest of my company? Where were the police? Was I really that cursed that I was the only one in the parking lot with this terrorist? I looked around to see if anyone could see what was about to happen. Nothing; there was nobody in sight.

“Of course,” I thought. It was only a few parked cars and shopping carts.

The madman started to shout at me again. This time louder and with less patience. I couldn’t help but notice the harsh rasp in his voice. He could be fucked on crack for all I know. He could have lost the woman of his dreams today, or turned his back on his religion. No sense in talking about it. In fact, there was no sense in running away screaming either. It’s either he shoots me or I walk away.

Life is wild in this way. I’ve experienced many conflicts in my life. Most of them get resolved through careful communication or a fight, be it verbal or physical. I’ve been in predicaments where my life was on the line. Every time it hasn’t been my decision whether I would live or die.

Two weeks prior to this predicament I was hopelessly surrounded by lions in a tent, far away from a gun or even a knife. That night I experienced true terror. I could hear the menacing growls of these fierce predators circling the campsite and around my tent. It was like I had to suffocate myself for fear of making the slightest sound. I had to hold still and remain frozen for hours. I don’t know if they weren’t interested in man flesh that night, or whether the embers of the dim campfire began to mysteriously burn into a flame, scaring them away. I know I pissed in my sleeping bag that night.

That was a horrifying experience. Africa was turning out to be what I might have been looking for. It was dangerous, and it was an adventure to say the least. I knew I had changed significantly in the short time I was here.

However, now as I stared into the barrel of the gun, none of these experiences or realizations truly mattered. What mattered were the last puff of my cigarette and the next few seconds of my fragile life which was currently held in the hands of a madman.

I exhaled that last bit of smoke as I looked him in the eyes. It was death looking back at me, grinning with flattery. I paid no more attention to him as I turned around and walked away, flicking my cigarette into the wind.







...and that's all folks...