The universe has a way of connecting dots that remain mostly unseen to us, well, mostly me, until the lines either come to an end or they crisscross with another person’s line. It is at that juncture that the universe reveals itself to you.

In some cases, it brings great joy to a person who has been praying for peace, for light , for a job, for healing, for a start of blissful relationship with a partner or a job, for new family members, for lost but reunited family members. New friendships so deep that it feels like you’ve known them all your life. In short, for a joyful end.

The other end of the spectrum, the juncture could bring about  confusion, hurt, new trauma, rekindled trauma and sometimes, the most painful end for those that have to live with the loss, comes death.

I can testify that I, like most people, have experienced both ends of the spectrum. I have felt the joyful bliss of new friendships and the painful hurt of trauma filled moments.

We think that at the end of connecting dots or the intersection is the endpoint. Not until another revelation and you have an Aha moment because you suddenly realise the earlier revelation was actually a premature conclusion.

She came for my book launch having been invited by the host. She left as a friend. We had a connection as she understood my desire to find my lost mojo. Then she designed the most breath-taking piece of jewellery which definitely gave me my mojo back. Endless conversations and laughter later, she had a milestone birthday coming up.

“Will you come?”. She asks.

“Sure, I will”. I lie ( I hate going out at night).

(Months later)

“Lulu, please escort me to her party?”. I beg my sister who is a better party animal than I am.

(Eve of the party)

“Shall we go?”

“No lets watch TV”.

“No let’s just go Mwangala. Your friend will be disappointed”.

“But we won’t even know anyone there. Plus, tonight I want to watch the replays of the queens funeral”.

 

Which has been on repeat for a week now, which I had been watching every single day. We continue the debate until we agree we will attend so we don’t let her down.

Arrive at party, wow, only thing missing is Cirque du soleil. It’s amazing. Complete with police security outside so am pleased my car is safe. (happy that the look-after is armed)

(hours later, I hobble back to my car. My Prosthesis hurts like hell)

“Excuse me, is your name Mwangala”? Asks a police officer whom I found standing next to my car.

“Yes. Why”? I ask.

“Your voice has haunted me for the last 5 years. I am the man that took you to CFB ( Hospital) the day of your motorbike accident”.

And right there in my Great Gatsby themed outfit, I dropped to the ground and wept.

My sister who was already in her car about to leave heard my cries and came rushing back to me asking me what was wrong. In between sobs, I looked up and pointed at the police officer and said, “ Lulu, its him. The man who took me to CFB”.

My sister let out a loud gasp and said to him, “Oh my Lord, we have been looking for you for the last five years. Thank you. Thank you so much”.

He stood over me and gently touched my shoulder and tried to apologise for upsetting me, but the grief on his face said something else. My sister had the sense to ask for his phone number so that we could contact him the following day. After a couple of exchanges, he walked away to perhaps allow me to compose myself.

My sister nudged me gently and urged me to get up and offered to drive me home. “We can leave your car here and well come back for it tomorrow”, she suggests.

All I could master was the same question I had asked repeatedly for the last few years

“Lulu, when will I stop crying?”.

“You won’t Mwangala. You won’t. Let’s go home”. She makes a painful declaration.

Its seems that, I didn’t attend my new friends birthday party to share her celebrations, the universe took me there, just as it took that police officer, for us to meet at that crisscross of paths of both our lives.

Peter Nasilele- the unknown taxi driver, whose random act of kindness saved my life, now has a name. The last piece of the puzzle has been placed securely and Lulu, I can now graciously say that I can, perhaps, finally, stop crying.

 

“It's funny how, in this journey of life, even though we may begin at different times and places, our paths cross with others so that we may share our love, compassion, observations, and hope. This is a design of God that I appreciate and cherish.”
Steve Maraboli,