I lead my children to the entrance of the yard and I told them to stay near me as I tried to wave down cars. I did not want to leave the entrance of the yard as I kept thinking what if he comes back? I called out to the gardener across the street, but all he did was shrug, pulling up his shoulders and lifting his hands halfway. I pleaded for help and called to every motorist that passed my house. No one stopped.

“Help, please help my mom she’s bleeding!” My son yelled with fear edged in his voice. “Help! Stop! Stop! Please!”

“Please Father, help me.” I silently prayed, helpless and desperate.

After the sixth motorist passed the stop street, I started to lose hope. Then as the raindrops silently started to fall around us, my prayer was answered. Two women stopped and asked if we needed help. While the one tried to help me, the other phoned the ambulance and police. Blood was streaming down my arm and gushing out of the wound next to my nose. My breathing got worse and the wound on my left breast pulled open.

One of the ladies asked me if I wanted to call my husband; I nodded. She dialled his number and she gave the phone to me. The light drizzle fell from the sky as if to say it will be OK, the pitter-patter of the small drops was like a parent whispering soothing words into a crying child’s ear. I tried to stay as calm as I could. The news I had to give were a haunting reminder of the one two years ago.

“My love, someone broke into our house, the kids and I are OK. I got stabbed, but I’ll be OK.” I told my husband as calmly as I could, trying to keep him calm so he does not end up in an accident himself. The rest of the conversation was short and basically just me assuring him I was OK.

The few minutes we waited for the ambulance felt like hours. I pressed the panic button again and the siren blared, but no response. The guest house owner from across the street came to see what he could do and as I struggled to take a breath. He said I should not cry as the wound in my face gaped open and they could see the bone. I did not respond to what he said; crying was the last thing on my mind. I asked my son to bring me a towel so I could try to stop the blood flowing down my arm and face.

The worst I could remember was the suffocating pain in my lungs as it was the worst feeling I ever had. Struggling for breath, knowing that even though you try your best to take as much air in and feeling as if someone is squeezing it out before it hits your lungs, is the most excruciating pain I ever felt. I knew if I panicked it would get worse. The people around me tried to keep the kids preoccupied and when the ambulance came the guest house owner offered that the kids would stay with him and his wife. I did not want to leave my kids, but had no choice.

In the ambulance the EMT asked me if I could describe the attacker. I did the best I could. I tried to describe the attacker’s shirt and the closest colour was that of the EMT’s gloves, only brighter. My mind kept running back to my kids and the fact that I did not want to leave them. After a few questions and a quick examination, the EMT told me that he had to see how deep the wounds were. Most of the wounds were shallow and they did not think that they would have done too much damage. The one on my face and the one in my breast were the worst. Then he told me he has to ask me a question every few minutes to see if I could still focus. The answer to the question he asked, now that I think of it, was very ironic.

“How old are you?”

“Thirty-one.” The next day was Halloween, the 31st of October. The day that would determine if I would survive was the day people associate with death and evil. It became a day I will forever associate with life and the ability to live.

I remember the conversations going on around me as I was attended to. It amazed me that everything that happened felt like a dream. It felt like I was just a bystander. The only thing reminding me that it was me being treated was the aching feeling in my chest every time I tried to breath. I remember the one EMT asked the other one if he knew how to drive and drive fast enough because I needed to get to hospital soon. I smiled at that, because the hospital was a kilometre away.

When we arrived at the hospital the doctor examined me and ordered all the necessary scans. It felt like a while before they could take me for the CT scan. Everyone talked around me and I could remember I was filled with a peaceful silence, my mind void of thought. I was relaxed and prayed that my kids were safe and was tremendously grateful for their safety. I knew God protected us and even though He allowed it to happen, I knew He would not have allowed it if He did not have a plan. I knew God loved me enough to spare me for my children and husband.

***

Tell us what you think: What do you think of the Heleen’s last two sentences? Shouldn’t she blame God for allowing this to happen?