A man fell while walking past our complex gate. At the time my husband was playing with our 3 year old daughter. He shouted for me to bring the remote for the gate and a stick. I was unsure of the instructions but noted the urgency in his voice, so I assumed something had happened to our daughter.
As I ran to the gate, the remote and a broom in hand, I found a thin young man with spiky, black and ginger locks of hair, sparse, short unshaven beard. He was wearing black faded jeans that were torn on multiple areas exposing parts of his thighs, knees and shins, unmatched secret socks and a thin dark grey shirt. He was jerking slowly while lying face up on the pavement. My husband used the broom and eventually his hands to turn him onto his side and tilt his head. He was foaming at the mouth. At some point he stopped moving with his eyes were wide open. I assumed he was dead, but he started jerking again and then gradually stopped. I had my daughter stand inside the gate area so he was out of her view.
I asked him what was wrong with him. He said he had epilepsy. I asked if he had taken any drugs, to which he said no and stated again that he had epilepsy. A woman walking to her car asked if we had called the police or an ambulance and my husband quickly got out his phone and called the emergency number. He was informed that he should call the ambulance service on a different number, which he did. After explaining what had happened, who he was, the street address, providing his name and cell number he was informed that there was no available ambulance to come and assist. While on the phone the man spoke in Shona saying, ‘musafonera maporisa, handina mapepa’ – ‘don’t call the police, I’m undocumented’. The man hadn’t fully recovered from his seizure, was barely conscious and the only thing he was worried about was deportation! When I asked where he lived he said in a shelter. My heart sank; it sank so deep it probably hit the floor. I was done my questioning.
My daughter, reading the gravity and tension in the air, wanted to be with her dad and not standing alone on the inside of the gate. And started crying, so I took her home. At the door I called for my brother in law to go and stay with my husband. After calming my daughter down, I systematically ensured that every other door besides the front one was locked and windows were secure. Up to this point I’m still unsure why. I even hid the car keys under a book. At the back of my mind I reasoned that it could be an elaborate ruse to gain entry into our house and steal. 🤷♀️
All these emotions and thoughts were flying through my head. Anger, that a young man’s life amounts to nothing in a foreign land. Fear, that our empathy will be our downfall in a world of scheming, manipulative beings who prey on what makes us human; feelings. Dread, that this is the world my daughter will need to navigate and for the most part she may have to do it alone. Pain, for the young man on the pavement who values his stay in this country more than his life. 🥺
We got him an Uber destined for the shelter he said he lives at and where his medication was. After a few hours my brother in law received an email from Uber stating that his account was in arrears for his last cash transaction as the destination was altered and inadequately paid for! My emotions? A word – NAIVE. The English definition of naive “showing a lack of judgement”. The one time we put our guard down; BAM 💥 a strong punch square between the eyes!
penpushers 