Sláinte

i never write disclaimers or apologize - but here's possibly the one time that i am going to do just that. the story i'm gonna share with you is kinda disturbing especially if you're sensitive to violence like i am. so if you want to just ignore the first part and skip to the moral of this little tale go to the bottom.

and one other thing, don't you dare, ever, for a second think i'm a victim of anything or use that label for me. or even survivor. we all have crap to get through and deal with. here's one example. millions of people have had worse and will have. that's not why i'm telling you this story.

Why i'm telling you this story is beyond me really. i think its time to share. as i said to someone close to me, i don't think i've told this story more than 6 times ever. i know the story has been passed on but i rarely open up and share in my own words. partly for the reasons i state above. i don't need your sympathy.

so here it is

exactly 15 years ago on november 6, i was carjacked and kidnapped. my then boyfriend, now husband was with me.

how it began

we were volunteering in tanzania. seriously- who'd pass the opportunity to go live (really like in tents) with one of the last real group of hunters & gatherers in the rift valley. ahhh yeah- sign us up!

 we were naive and wanted to go out and save the world. the pragmatic side was it was a recession and fresh after our grad work we wanted raw real experience and wanted to see the world.

i'd grown up thinking about tanzania and hearing swahili (my father was born there). my husband spent a part of his childhood in east africa as well. there was a tie. and being hopelessly romantic and idealistic we wanted to make a difference, and have great stories to tell. (and we have lots.)

we had so many grand plans to see some great game parks and we always deferred them because we were waiting for a better time, someone to visit, etc. we were never able to make those plans a reality.

how we got jacked.

driving along the only paved road that spanned the country we were prime pickings. close to the kenyan border. rwanda has just unleashed hell that summer and no one was eating the tilapia from victoria lake...turmoil was in the air.

we had a sassy new pickup and had shiny appliances we were going to deliver to some friends along the way to dar, the capital. it was just a 20 hour drive we broke into 2 sections. i had just opened a letter from my best friend and she'd sent a tape with the new REM album on it. gorgeous sunny cloudless day and we're listening to some great music.

all of a sudden i look over and see 6 or 7 AK47's pointed at us. omg. i screamed. my husband was driving. he didn't know what to do. they motioned us to pull over - we had no choice -those guns were fucking huge. we pulled over and 2 of them got in either side of us with the guns at our heads. the other 3 got in the back and the other dude drove their car.

we went to a clearing and they made us get out and put our hands on our heads and lie on the ground belly down. guns to our heads. we were told to hand over our money, passports, (we even had airline tix for spain at xmas w us), i had a ring they wanted. they joked about if i didn't shut up they'd find a way to make it happen. then they gave us some foamy yellow drink. first my husband and then me. i tried to drink less but they forced it down.

i woke up in a hospital three days later and saw my husband in the bed beside me. without thinking i crawled into his bed. the nurse freaked out on me. fucking puritanical bitch- like i could possibly want anything more than to know that my husband was alive if i was. we were both on IV. as it was, we recovered and they released us to an retired Irish couple who lived in the middle of nowhere and taught English. we were nursed back to health there.

i have no idea what happened to us in the three days that are gone from my memory. i can't remember even the few days we were at the irish people's home though i remember that they were kind beyond belief. i remember the rope burns on my ankles and my wrists.

we were told that we'd been dumped into some bushes and local farmers had found us on November 8 and brought us to the hospital in their cart. such random kindness.on November 9 we woke up and were able to tell the irish couple who we were. we hadn't been able to remember at first i guess. our volunteer org was contacted. my husband's parents were finally informed (they hadn't known). my parents still don't know. hadn't talked to my dad in years and sure wasn't going to let work ppl tell my mom. she'd had enough to deal with.

essentially it was hushed up fast. we were interviewed by some people in our consulate and put in KLM business class to be returned home.

so, that's it. november is a miserable dreary month. it's grey and its depressing. for me i celebrate this week because for some reason i'm lucky enough to still be around.

some people recently asked me to wait to run Boston til 2011. no way. i'm taking what i've been given and living in the here and now. and though i may be moody or goofy, i have no reason in the world to complain. i have only one life but i'm making it a great adventure - i still want great stories to tell. i need my big moments, my passion and living my dreams the best way i know how. and so for now, i don't do as many crazy ass adventures but i think that being able to run Boston would be a great big story to tell someday. i want to have a life that is worth telling stories about - good and bad. its the only way. and i'm packing it all in there. every last bit with every last breath i have. there will never be a better time than now.

well, i think its time for a drink now, isn't it? Sláinte. (gaelic for good health btw)