I almost used the word edifice wrong, but then again, that’s how much is on my mind. It’s been a terrible week, and some people would have collapsed if what happened to them, happened to me. It started about two weeks ago, when the thought rather crude occurred to me. There was a nagging feeling that I needed to back up my work, and whenever it crossed, I shrugged thinking that it was not that important.
Fast forward to last week. I happened to travel to Bushenyi for a small business meet. Seeing as this wasn’t my first time, I woke up, packed light and headed out with the customary message that I will see them back home later. If you remember, or don’t, I spent the latter part of 2014 on a bus headed to Bushenyi almost every other week. This being a customary journey, I worried less about my luggage which had my laptop and half of my documents (important documents) in there tacked, a couple of books and novels, tape measures and a lot more. I sat in the bus and headed towards Bushenyi. I arrived in Bushenyi at around 3:30pm, and got to site. I assumed I was spending the night so I didn’t bother much. Unfortunately, the meeting lasted only 2 hours and by 5:30, we were done. Seeing as it was done, I decided to take the night bus, so from Bushenyi, back to Mbarara only lasted an hour and I was in Mbarara at around 6:30 heading to 7:00. My little brother was in school and I had promised myself that I needed to see him, which I did and was on the bus at around 8;00pm.
Exhausted from all the travelling, I placed my bag in the tray above my seat and slept off. When we got to Masaka, I inspected and saw that the bag was still in place and then I slept off again. When we reached Kampala at around midnight, we started to drop off people one by one, from Kyengera all the way to the bus park. My mind in a daze, also planned to get off. We get to the bus park and I decide to jump off. As I search the tray, I see no bag or evidence of someone else’s misplaced luggage. In shock, I run round the bus asking and seeing if anyone has seen my bag. The driver looks bemused as I inquire. The conductors keep telling me to check but at this point I’ve lost all hope. I try to remember if there was anything suspicious but I can’t recollect.
Puzzled, confused, I start to laugh at myself and how I could have let this happen. At the back of my head, it’s not what I’ve lost but rather my failure to have backed up all my work, collections and collections of work. I quickly dash to a boda boda frustrated, and narrate to him my story. Shocked, he tells me of someone suspicious leaving his stage in a hurry. He then escorts me to the police (yes, some people are that kind) where I report my bag stolen with its belongings. At this point, all I want is to go home. Crazy, I know but I am also fed up. All I master then is a couple of laughs and anger. The thief didn’t just steal my bag, but my life’s work, and the rather nagging thought that I should have backed it up. And also the fact that they would still not get the full value of what they’ve stolen and when they pawned it off for a miserly few sums, they still won’t understand how important what they’ve pawned was.
No, I am not crying over spilt milk. In fact, few that I’ve shared this story are amused by my lack of remorse and my going forward attitude. At the least, I got home safe and I am starting over from scratch.
All I did was click reset, too.
(Been meaning to post this a while now. About two weeks ago.)