#pokomatherisktaker

Pokoma is no more. He lost his life when a car smashed into him two days ago. The impact caused his back and limbs to break in several places. His head slammed into the pavement, disfiguring his face.

Pokoma was a risk-taker. He loved to cross the road when an oncoming car was a few meters, a few seconds away from him. He said it gave him an adrenaline rush. He had caused several drivers to slam on their brakes, leaving them screeching in fury as he sprang out of the way, the car missing
him by a few inches. He would emerge on the other side, chuckling to himself, and mentally patting himself on the back. “Whew! that was a close shave! It’ll be even closer the next time!”

This risky game started when Pokoma was about nine and still in primary school. Together with his little brother and sister, they walked to school in the morning and back in the evening. To get there, they had to cross a busy road, a highway in fact. As the cars zoomed past in both directions, Pokoma and his siblings sometimes waited for 10 minutes when the cars were fewer, or when a kind driver stopped to let them pass. Sometimes they waited in the middle of the road.

When he got older, Pokoma found that he was able to run across a busy road even as the cars whizzed past. He weaved in and out of traffic like a snake. It soon graduated into that mad dash across the road. Then the highway. Pokoma would run across and land safely on the other side without a scratch.

We buried Pokoma yesterday. He did not look like the Pokoma we knew as we laid what remained of him in his grave.
He was just one mangled mess of skin, flesh and bones.