On the 23rd of July, 2004, in the city of Lubumbashi, Congo RD, my sports bike was having a little problem with its breaks. That very day, I was so reluctant to go out after the stressful day at school. After taking a nap, I decided to take the bike to my technician to put the breaks in order.
The breaks were put in order, together with other parts that needed little adjustment and repair. As I was about to mount on my bike, I received a phone call from a friend, asking me to come and play football with him and some of his friends in a football pitch close to his house. Even though I was tired, I was unable to resist the desire to go and play with them. I responded to him, telling him that I would be with them in a short while. I rode home, picked all my necessary sports materials and hurried up to join them.
There was a rail track across the road leading to my friend’s house and a market around there. Normally when trains were coming, there was always a horn very loud that could be heard a kilometre away from its source. To be sincere, I could not tell what came over me. I was on high speed, and a few metres away from me was the rail track. The train operator never honked the horn because I did not hear it and I never looked left or right to see if anything like a train was coming. Since I was already close, I thought I could cross before the train could arrive where I was. That was the first thought that came to my mind. In fear, I continued thinking that my breaks were still faulty. Out of reflex action, I held the two hand breaks. The tyres scrubbed the ground on a distance of about 300m and stopped. And right in front of me was the train moving on its normal speed. Passers-by were just looking at me with mouth and eyes wide open. I quietly came down, turned and head towards my house. It was really a miracle and was not yet time.