Chapter 20

    I woke up early the next morning pretty much resolved to go home that day. The only reason I had agreed to stay was because Bro. Jeremiah asked me to run the sound system. Because of the circumstances,  I was not going to be allowed to do that. Everything else I had been asked to do I had done, so my conscience was pretty clear. I went over to the chapel/dining hall/auditorium to get a final list of parts I would need to finish the sound system for the minister's portion of the conference.

     I  chatted for a while with the ladies who had spent all night cooking for the visiting ministers, and what a bunch of characters they were! A wonderful sense of humor and they seemed to be much more outgoing that most of the ladies I had met during my trip. I went back to my room worked on my diary for a while and fell asleep.

    When I awoke it was about 9:00AM.  I showered, dressed and prepared to meet Bro. Patrick and go into Harare about 10:00AM. As I tried to leave the cottage I found, to my dismay, that I was locked in!  The other three brothers had gone to breakfast and had, unknowingly, locked me in. You had to have a key to unlock the door and I didn’t have one,  so I was stuck. Because of the level of theft,  the owners had installed bars over the windows so I couldn’t get out that way,  either. Here it was getting to the time I was supposed to meet Patrick and all around the area it was deserted. I yelled until I couldn’t yell anymore and finally,  after about an hour,  someone came and let me out.

    Patrick Mabanga, like many of his countrymen, is always ready to laugh. On the way into Harare we joked and laughed about many things, including how the people's driving in Zimbabwe makes me very nervous. Bro. Patrick's car did have seatbelts except for the front seat, passenger side of the car. (my side)

    Let me say this, I am a pretty good driver. (Ladies, does any man admit to being a bad driver?)  I have driven in some of the worst places and in some of the best. To say that these drivers were the most aggressive I had seen really puts them up against some aggressive competition; Germany, Boston, PHOENIX, Los Angeles. Zimbabwean drivers are in a class all of their own and Bro. Patrick really got a kick out of that.

    Anyway,  we went into Harare and got the parts that I needed and stopped off at Air Zimbabwe to change my tickets to the flight for that evening. After completing the transaction,  we stopped and had a bite to eat and started back for Rest Haven. When we got into the car,  I sat on the passenger side (the left side) and put my laptop computer on my lap. I don’t know why because up until then I had always put it in the back seat. We didn’t talk much on the 25 mile trip back and I was daydreaming much of the way. After we turned off of the road unto the single-lane dirt road that leads to Rest Haven I still wasn’t paying much attention to the driving.

    Rest Haven sits in a small valley about 10 miles off of the main paved road. As we approached the place where the road starts to wind down into the valley I noticed Bro. Jeremiah’s Toyota Land Cruiser coming up out of the valley. I was puzzled because Bro. Patrick didn’t slow down or stop,  even though he knew I needed to talk to Bro. Jeremiah about leaving that evening. In fact, he went by his vehicle extremely fast and I don’t know how he kept from hitting him on that single-land dirt road. It was at this point that I became aware of just how fast we were going. As we passed Bro. Jeremiah we made the slight turn and started down into the canyon much too fast.

    I was just about to say something when Bro. Patrick said, "John, I can’t stop."
    I was thinking to myself, Okay,  Patrick that’s enough kidding.
    He said again with more force, "JOHN,  I CAN’T STOP!"
    And then he said, "OH,  JESUS! "  and I knew we were in trouble.                   

    Now I had never been in a Peugeot before that day, and I certainly did not know where the emergency brake was. But the Lord did, and my right hand went immediately to the emergency brake between the seats and I pulled up with everything that I had. Applying the emergency brake put us into a sideways skid and we skidded off of the road into a grove of trees. We hit the first tree on the left-hand front of the car. That started the car spinning and we hit the second group of trees on my side, the passenger side of the car. Continuing the spin, we came to rest after hitting the final group of trees on the rear of the car. This took longer for you to read than it took to happen.

    He said, "Oh Jesus", I pulled on the emergency brake we hit the first tree with a tremendous crash and then, and then, we were still. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . I was sitting with my left leg up on the seat and I was looking out of the side window of the car. My first thoughts were peaceful. The sky was a brilliant blue, the leaves of the trees were a vivid green and everything was so quite, so very quiet.

    After what seemed like a long time (in reality it was less than a minute) I shook my head and I realized that we had just been in a serious accident. I went to turn around and there was this sharp pain in my left side.

    I said, "Patrick,  are you okay"? But there was no answer.
    I again said, "Patrick! Are you okay?" And again there was no answer and I really started feeling scared. All I could think of was that he was dead.

    Unbeknownst to me, many of the ministers had just finished lunch and were walking back to the cottages. They witnessed the accident and came running. I could hear them opening the driver’s side car door, but I couldn’t turn around to watch them. A brother came around to open my door but it was so damaged that instead of opening, it fell off! I wasn’t aware of who opened the door and it was only a year later that I learned that it was my friend Bro. Peter Mataka from Kariba.

    As I said, I was sitting sideways in the seat,  facing the doorway. My left leg was up on the seat and the brothers grabbed hold of it to pull me out of the car, and I SCREAMED! I have never had a broken leg but there was no doubt in my mind that my left leg was broken,  and broken badly. Obviously,  that wasn’t going to work so they came around and pulled me out of the car backwards through the driver’s door,  with someone attempting to keep my broken leg immobile. They weren’t particularly successful so I screamed again until they laid me on the ground.

    Things from this point on are very vivid to me and I will never forget them. Apparently,  when we passed Bro. Jeremiah on the road he knew we were going too fast to handle the curves in the road so he immediately turned around and came to the accident site. Although all I could see was the remarkably blue sky and the vivid green trees when they laid me on the ground, the first voice I heard was Bro. Jeremiah saying," Let’s pray". Him saying that really scared me. All I could think was that Patrick Mabanga was dead.

    After the prayer,  Bro. Jeremiah backed his Land Cruiser down to where I was and they loaded me into the back of the vehicle. It took about 5 of the brothers to lift me up and because my leg was not immobilized,  I screamed again. The pain was unbelievable!  I spent most of my day crying out in pain because I had never experienced anything like it.

    The trip into Harare was long and tedious. The tailgate of the truck was left open because my leg could not be folded up. One of the brothers was sitting on the tailgate holding my leg,  trying to keep it immobile. It didn’t seem to help much for the first 10 miles because the road was a dirt road and very rough. Bro. Peter Mataka was sitting next to me and I was holding onto his hand. During the trip I don’t know how I kept from crushing his hand,  I was in so much pain.  Every time we hit a bump my broken leg would grind together and I would squeeze his hand trying to keep from crying out in pain, but I usually wasn’t successful. After we got to the much smoother paved road and I could settle down a little bit, I turned to Bro. Peter and asked, "Bro. Peter is Patrick dead?" Did I imagine that I asked him, because he didn’t answer. Perhaps I said it too softly.

    "Brother Peter,  is Patrick dead?" He looked over at me and smiled.
    "No, John,  he is sitting right up there" he answered.  I looked up at the passenger seat in the front and there was Bro. Patrick, apparently okay but in shock. I remember also asking Bro. Shamba if he would make sure that Bro. Jeremiah would call Bro. Ron, my pastor, and have him be with Linda when she was told the news of the accident.

    The trip into Harare seemed to take forever. There was a noticeable decrease in the pain level - a combination of smoother road, extreme fatigue from the stress of the accident and grace from my God. I believe that I dozed off and on,  although I would wake up at every little bump in the road. The accident took place about 1:00PM and we finally arrived at The Avenues Clinic in Harare about 4:00PM. They immediately pulled me out of the vehicle (here we go again), loaded me onto a gurney, took me into the hospital and into the x-ray room. I can remember them positioning my leg for an x-ray very clearly!  The pain was excruciating! I don’t remember them taking any x-rays of chest (that becomes significant later) and then we waited for the results. I dozed again and when I awoke there were all of these people around me and I seemed to remember them talking about money.

Other Voices - Simplicio Shamba    

   Pastor Jeremiah informed the doctor brothers we had in our church to assist Bro. John.  They took John, in pain, to our best hospital, The Avenues Clinic but they needed a very high deposit which the brothers could not afford so they ended up taking John to the Parirenyatwa Hospital.

    Whilst the meetings were going on I went to the hospital to see my friend.  Indeed, he was in great pain.   The doctors were worried of quickly doing an operation or surgery due to what they were calling "fatty embolism" meaning the fat of it  [the broken leg]  gets into the blood system and you could die or go into a coma, 50/50.

    As it turned out The Avenues Clinic would not admit me without a US$2000.00 deposit. I had the money in the bank in the United States,  but I sure didn’t have that much with me. And they were adamant, I would not be admitted without the deposit beforehand! Apparently,  this was a private hospital and they weren’t required to admit patients,  regardless of their condition!  In fact, they didn’t even give me anything for the pain!  I was unaware of it at the time, but a couple of the brothers from Bro. Jeremiah’s church were physicians and they suggested that I be taken to the government facility, the Parirenyatwa Hospital. This next episode was burned into my memory and I shall never forget it!

    The staff at The Avenues Clinic moved me onto a smaller rolling gurney that was designed for inserting into an ambulance and I was relatively comfortable. I was laying on my back with my left knee raised, which seemed to help alleviate the pain. My leg was spread and resting on the rail of the gurney, which meant that the knee was over the edge of the gurney. When the ambulance arrived the driver helped them load me into the ambulance. They clipped the top part of the gurney into the restraint clips and then they swung the bottom part into it’s restraint clips, smashing my knee and broken leg into the side of the vehicle. I have never before or since screamed so loud and so long and I couldn’t stop. I’m trying to find words to describe it and I cannot. I could not imagine pain like I experienced and it didn’t seem to end. The driver hit every bump much too fast, sometimes lifting me off of the gurney. The pain never ended; I screamed, I cried, I was so angry and hurt that I know I would have throttled him if I could have gotten the chance. I cannot believe that that ride was anything but deliberate!

    By the time we reached the Parirenyatwa Hospital I was as limp as a wet dishrag,  and exhausted!  I vaguely remember them unloading me and putting me on a gurney. They took me into a room and,  mercifully, gave me my first shot of morphine, more than five hours after the accident and after being moved thirteen different times! A respite from my situation descended on me like a curtain. Everything for the next 6 weeks in my mind is hazy and disjointed, as if in a dream.

    I have foggy recollection of speaking with one of my African nurses. To me she seemed a  woman of some importance. Matron Consolata Zvirikuzhe was in charge of everything in the hospital except the physicians. She told me of her life and training as a nurse in Glasgow, Scotland. Apparently,  we became close friends,  even though I don’t remember much of what we talked about. My next recollection is of my doctor, an East Indian, Dr. Bhagat. He told me about the operation I would need but told me the surgery would have to wait until the following Monday, five days after the accident - a delay that would have catastrophic consequences for me.

    In one of my moments of being awake I remember asking Matron Connie if I could call Linda in the United States. It took a little convincing but when I told her it would be on my credit card she gave in. Late in the evening she wheeled me through what seemed like miles of corridors to an area that had a phone that I could reach from my bed. After about a half hour of trying to make the connection,  I got hold of her.

   "Hello", she answered.
   "Hi Mama!", I said,  trying to sound cheerful.
   "Oh, Hi. How you doing?" Oh,  her voice was so sweet and I longed to have her arms around me
    "Oh, I’m better now", I replied.
    "Better than what?", she questioned and then I lost it. I started crying so hard I couldn’t talk. She kept asking what was wrong and I couldn’t tell her because I was crying so hard, and then she started crying,   too.

    At this point Matron Connie got on the phone and explained to Linda that I was in the hospital with a severely broken left leg. The plan was to have surgery on Monday and then about a two week hospital stay. After a few minutes of them talking I composed myself enough to get on the phone again. We planned for Linda to come to Zimbabwe in about 2 weeks. I had thought that I would be on crutches by then and we could go to some of the wonderful places I had seen and then she would be there with me to help me fly home. (Boy, was I dreaming,  because Satan wasn't finished yet!)

Other Voices - Ron Peterson     

   Bro. John was our audio man at the church and after meeting Bro. Jeremiah Mkanganwi at some special meetings at our assembly, we had discussed together the idea of his going over to Zimbabwe to help install some of the sound equipment that we had bought for Bro. Jeremiah's church in Harare.  Bro. John felt on his heart to go, so arrangements were made for him to go and set up their sound system for them.  After Bro. John had left for Africa I kept asking Sis. Linda for an update on how Bro. John was getting along over there.  Then the phone call came. Sis. Linda called me and told me that John had been involved in a car wreck and had broken his leg,  but other than that he seemed all right.