Not the wake up call I was expecting to receive at 1:30 am on a casual Friday morning in Zambia. But little did I know how unexpected this day was going to be when I went to bed Thursday night. Life was as normal as it could be on month 11 of the Race, yet the next day could be one of the most unforgettable of my entire life.
Thursday night we had a visitor, Matt, from AIM. He was visiting us after finishing a squad debrief here in Livingstone, Zambia. We stayed up a little bit later than we usually do enjoying the company from America and getting some insight into month 11 and the readjustment process after the race. By 11 pm I had excused myself to my bed which lay just across the room from the front door, right next to the desk upon which I had laid my computer after doing some work.
Around 1:15 I wake up to some unexpected noise by the door. Matt had stayed up late doing computer work on the couch by the door. As I Iook up in the dark I see 3 men standing in the doorway across the room. Though at first I had no idea what was going on, I soon realize that these men were not our friends. I hear Matt telling them that this is his work computer. Then one of the men comes to the desk and he wipes the desk clean grabbing all of Grants electronics and his journal as well as my computer and my hard drive. Once i realize that we are being robbed, I rolled out of my bed and pushed the man at the desk, grabbing whatever I could from his hands as I retreated. I swiped my computer, but the hard drive with all of my years photography and video work got stripped from the computer and remained with his loot. I was swiftly told that he was not happy with my decision to grab my computer back with a blow to the head. Shocked I look up to see the long blade of a machete held above the mans head ready to strike again. With blinding pain I jump back on the bottom bunk of my bed throwing my computer under the bed so he couldn’t find it if he approached me. I lay curled up under that bunk bed for protection with my legs out as defense as the attackers continue their demands of money and possessions. Meanwhile, my body was starting to go numb as all of the sensation in my body focused on the blinding pain on my head. Putting my hand to the blow on my head quickly turns my whole arm red as blood pours down it. It was so dark I couldn’t see the deep red color but could feel the blood dripping to my elbow. I had just woken up and my head had been hit pretty hard and everything seemed a blur. I do however remember thinking about my hard drive!! Sure I had my computer, but it is useless without all of my RAW photographs and videos that could be edited and worked on with my computer. I double checked my computer, and realized the disk wasn’t there… That hard drive is worth maybe $40 at a second hand store, but to me it hold memories of the most influential 10 months of my life. It documents the people I have met, the adventures had, and the beautiful landscapes I had witnessed this year. It contained plenty of professional work that I had dreamed of selling commercially and really jumpstarting my travel photography career. It contained my book! I would have traded all of my possessions for the hard drive.
It was beyond value to me, but to him it was a mere piece of metal. In the blur and daze of the situation I tried to reason with the criminal explaining that he had something that was of a lot of value to me, and essentially worth nothing to him. I don’t know what I was doing reasoning with a criminal but was quickly reminded of the value of my life over those precious, precious memories with shouts of “You are going to die!! You are going to die!! Give me your money or you will die!!” His machete was extended towards us threateningly. As the men started to retreat to the door, I used the extra meter of distance to run out from under my bed through the living room to warn the girls to stay in their room praying and ran to alert our contact. Sanderson hid his girls and wife in his room, and came out with his hands up to the living room ready to offer whatever he needed to the criminals. But as he entered the living room, the thieves ran off into the bush which lay right beyond our front yard. They were gone.
We turned the lights on. Blood was everywhere. The house looked like a crime scene, and it was. Matt and I had both been viciously attacked with machetes to the head. We were lucky to be alive. Matt had two deep cuts to the head and one on his shoulder. I had a gash on my left temple and a slice down my shoulder. The surroundings blurred. Life passed before my eyes and death crossed my mind. I looked at my body and couldn’t recognize it. It was all numb compared to the blinding pain in my head. With the amount of blood pouring out of my head, I pictured half my head being gone, being sliced right in half. I was afraid to look at it. I grabbed my towel and held my head together for dear life. I knew I was alive, but wasn’t quite sure what death felt like. I was in shock. I wasn’t quite sure what had happened. The girls came out and were praying for us. I was told to sit and calm down. I was so anxious, sitting was hard. I wanted to move, to walk, to be alive! I really didn’t know what was happening. I couldn’t feel or hardly think. So I sat. The police were called. Hilary held my head. Grant checked my head. He said it was still there. That was comforting. Blood slowly clotted. Pain slowly eased. Life became real again. Death distanced itself from me. My team was incredible. Everybody stayed calm. We were all shocked, but their stability kept me stable. Anger swelled. Why would people do something like this? I trusted people. I hoped the best for people. Who would attack someone so viciously? The attack became more real. I began to realize and accept what happened. It didn’t feel real, but it was. Our stuff was gone, the blood was down my arm, and there was a nice slice on my head. It was real. And I was finally ready to face the slice on my head. Much to my relief, my head, although in blinding pain, was still very intact and the machete had only sliced about 3 centimeters down the left side of my head. Seeing myself in the mirror and realizing that the blood and pain had only represented a fairly minor slice in my head was very comforting. We still waited for the police to arrive. I started to just pace, playing the attack over and over in my head. What had happened, what could have been done differently. I thanked God for my life and the life of Matt and everyone else in the house who was spared. We had two people sleeping on the porch who were threatened but not attacked. We had cuts in our heads that placed a few inches in different directions could have been fatal or very costly to our health. There was much to be thankful for, but at the same time, a lot to question. A lot of whys and what ifs. How could something like this happen to missionaries on their last month on the field. So much of that race had passed and now was the homestretch. We had endured a lot and the end was so close. Had God allowed this to happen? For what reason? What are our lessons? These are all really hard questions in times of crisis. As we waited for the police to respond, we found the guard of the house. He had been smashed in the back of the head a few times and thrown in a ditch. Meanwhile, the neighbor comes by with his gun. He and a few men went searching in the bush. Meanwhile the embassy and parents were contacted. My head was throbbing and my mind was racing. I tried to stay calm, yet was filled with fear and pain and anger. An anger burnt against my attackers that I had never experienced. I had never had a complete stranger physically attack me so viciously for no good reason. He had no regard for my life and after trying to take my life, threatened my life. I had never been so close to death. A feeling that brings about a new renewal for life. ‘I can’t wait to live the rest of my life!’ has become one of my teams favorite quotes from the night.
About an hour after the attack, the police finally showed up. After filling out a few police reports, we were off to the emergency room. (Here in Zambia, you need a police report before being admitted to the ER under such circumstances. Strange rule and fortunately, none of us were in need of immediate response care.) We were the only ones in the ER but that by no means meant fast service. It took about 3 hours to be seen by a nurse, have our heads shaved, and receive the stitches sealing our head wounds. As I waited in the ER I started to clean the blood off my arm revealing an 8 inch slice down the back of my shoulder and a second 3 inch slice under my shirt closer to my neck. Visions of the attack were coming back to me, but I hadn’t realized that I had been struck more than once until finding these cuts. As I waited for my stitches, I couldn’t remain still. I paced up and down the hospital corridors praying and asking questions and feeling alive. Trying to replay what had happened and why. Everything was surreal and felt foreign, felt like a dream but was so real. Glimpses of myself in the window reflections showed a man from a horror film. Blood dripping down my face and on my hands. Who was I and why did I look this way? Finally after pacing for waiting and praying for two hours, I was taken in to get my stitches. I had never received stitches before. As the finished sewing me, the sun began to rise. The day had begun. The day that I will remember for the rest of my life and that will change who I am. I had been awake for 5 hours already and so much had happened, but just now the day was beginning. It was a beautiful sunrise. The darkness faded away and the familiarity and warmth of light filled the atmosphere. I wondered where our robbers were now? What were they thinking? They could no longer hide behind the darkness of night. Were they pleased with their evening? Were they satisfied with their loot? Did they even think of the damage caused? I prayed for them. I tried to forgive them. I tried. It would take some time.
We arrive home. Grant and Luinda had stayed up to watch the house the rest of the evening. I just needed food and to sit, but we needed to search the bush. There could be clues in the bush or things dropped along the way in their scramble to hide. The day was still cool, adrenaline was still high, and the loot could still be in reach. After some coffee and oatmeal, we hit the bush. We examine foot prints and search through trash piles. Anything that was shiny caught my eye. The bush was thick, visibility was low. Paths went in all directions, making the thieves possible routes endless. We stopped to ask people if they had seen anything. We were a strange group with head bandages and bloody shirts. We went through the dump. We searched under trees. It is rumored that strange men live back here. These are their homes in the dump, under trees. No shelter, no comfort. My heart broke for these men. But we still searched. We wanted answers. We wanted reasons. We search the bush for an hour. We hitch a ride on the back of a sand truck to meet our contact by the road. We are asking everyone on the way for any clues or sightings of the bags stolen. At the top of the road, we jump out of the truck. At the edge of the road we see 3 men carrying two machetes. My untrained thought process was, ‘Let’s casually talk to those men. If theres blood on the machetes, we may have a suspect.’ We take a step towards them. They take a step away. We call to them. They start jogging. We start running to them. They start sprinting!! Down to the dump they are headed full speed! Not really knowing what is happening, we start sprinting after them. We figure they may lead us right to our stuff, or at least we could catch them and retrieve some answers. We are running down the path. I look back. 6 of the men they were standing with are running after us. They are shouting in a foreign language. I thought for a second we were being ambushed. I was already looking for alternate routes off the path since we were surrounded on both sides by men. I didn’t have too long to make a decision before the men behind us go whizzing past us. Turns out they were our allies and were willing to help us chase these criminals through the woods. They had no shoes on and were running through the dump full of broken glass shards and blazing hot sand. I was wearing my skinny jeans to give myself a layer of protection if a cobra were to strike me, and converse shoes since my running shoes were stolen in the robbery. As soon as the men pass us, the three guys jump off the main path into the thick bush. We jump in after them grabbing wine bottles as weapons. Its hard to see through the bush and there is no defined path. When I am not in a chase I am bending and ducking carefully over these dead branches. In a chase after the men who tried to kill me, I am running full steam ahead through the branches disregarding any scratches to my body or rips through my clothing. I would try to land my foot at the base of the bushes to try to flatten it before bounding over it. A GoPro strapped to my chest would have been supreme at documenting this foot chase. I followed whoever was in front of me. As we passed people working in the bush, they would point us in the right direction and then join in on the chase dropping anything they were working on. It was chaos, but the most thrilling thing I have ever done. 2 HOURS AFTER GETTING STITCHES TO MY HEAD, I WAS CHASING CRIMINALS THROUGH THE AFRICAN BUSH IN MY SKINNY JEANS CARRYING A WINE BOTTLE AS MY WEAPON WITH AT LEAST 15 AFRICAN MEN WHO HAD RANDOMLY JOINED IN ON THE CHASE. We chased them for half an hour. Because of all the people that had joined in, confusion began for me of who was I actually chasing and who was I following. We eventually lost their scent and reconvened by the road. Though so close to our criminals, we were so far. Now they could be anywhere in the bush. They slipped right through our finger tips. We were sure that they were the answer to all of our questions.
The young men who helped us were so incredibly helpful. They helped us trace where these strange men had come from that morning. Grant and I detectively trace their footsteps asking person after person if they had seen 3 men and 2 machetes walking down this road 45 minutes ago. They would point us further and further down the road. We asked 6 people until I came across two guys walking down the road. I ask them the question, to which I receive a very excited response. “YES those are the men!! Where have they gone?” I point towards the bush and the man starts sprinting. I tell him to wait up. The chase happened 30 minutes ago. The men are long gone, but please help us with some answers. Who are these men and why do you want them? The man responds hurriedly ‘They are escaped criminals! The escaped from duties this morning!’ ‘What time? we ask. ‘Around 7.’ We ask ‘So were you with them all through the night? Had they possibly escaped earlier in the evening?’ They told us that they were with them the whole evening. So it turns out we were chasing 3 escaped convicts through the African bush, NOT the men who had robbed us and tried to kill us the prior evening. So that was a bit disappointing to know we weren’t as close to our perpetrators as we thought, but at least it closed the case of chasing the men through the woods.
October 30th, 2015, was by far the most eventful day of my life. We are all still recovering from the robbery and a lot of possessions still remain to be returned. I have since gone in to get a CT scan in Johannesburg, SA which came back clear meaning there is no internal damages to my brain or skull. My headaches are diminishing and I am feeling more and more like myself. It has been one of the craziest weeks, but we are all still alive and cherishing every moment. Matt received surgery in South Africa a few days ago and is still there recovering. There is a lot to be learned from a crisis like this. I believe in Gods provision and hand in everything, and I know that a crisis like this can bring about a lot of lessons. For me it is still hard to face what has happened. I know I am alive physically, and very thankful to have my life. There are so many ways to be thankful for that night and I can see a layer of divine protection of all that happened. But it also showed me real evil. Evil like I have never experienced before. An evil that infuriated me and really scared me. I saw a very dark side and a very powerful move by the enemy. Our God is bigger and so much stronger and I can relate to Job so much in this situation. ‘Take everything but spare his life.’ I see God has the ultimate authority and that through all of the finite material possessions we have, He is the only thing worthy of praise. It is hard to say goodbye to a years worth of work and memories. But I hope that God will show me and teach me through that realization.
Thanks you so much for your prayers along the way and I hope you enjoyed this story. It is too good to make up!
