I saw a red car knock down my child and sped off before I could be able to note down its numbers plate. This accident occurred along the busy Ngong Road in Nairobi when we were leaving for church with all my family members on a Sunday.
Infact, if my memory can serve me right, the car whose driver appeared drunk and careless was going to hit all of us at once but I saw him and shouted to alert the rest of my family.
Our journey to church was immediately cut short and we had to call traffic police to carry our son’s body to a nearby mortuary. I mean we had been reduced to mourners.
My wife at that time was already yelling on the ground and shouting “my son…..my son woooiyee has been killed please help.” It was one of the most painful moments in our lives.
There was little we could do but to eventually start to organize for the burial of thew departed soul and perhaps continue struggling with the reality of his sudden demise.
After his burial, to pursue insurance compensation, became a taunting task since we had to have both the vehicle’s number plate and an idea of suspect but we didn’t have any of the two.
Even through traffic police and major state authorities, it couldn’t work for eight month when someone hinted to us about going the traditional way.To read more, tap here
