My flashlight saved my life.

The god of irony strikes again. I’ve been able to safely traverse Lake Victoria alone; however, the day I find my way back to familiar Moshi "home," a stranger almost attacks me on my first day back.

I went to my favorite internet café down the road to get more waffles and ice cream and skype a friend. As I waited for him to go online, it got dark, so I forfeited the skype and started my 20-minute solo journey back home down the rural, poorly lit Lima Road. I took one of those maglites to help guide my way.

Others were walking – a slight comfort. I noticed a white-shirted man walking behind me and allowed him to pass. As I kept watch, he turned down a side street and stopped. Pretending not to notice, I kept walking and soon found him jogging behind me. My light skin tone must've labeled me as a “rich” Mzungu (foreigner). I froze to let him run past, but he stopped beside me and asked something in Swahili.

“Si fahamu.” – I don’t understand – I replied as I increased my distance from this strange gentleman. He wouldn’t let up. I knew what was happening. It was dark. The road was empty. When he poked my left pocket, I had had enough.

“GET BACK!” I screamed multiple times as I charged him – maglite in hand. I took a few retaliation swings. They got harder. The man backed away. The screams got louder. He lifted his arms for self-protection. I could feel the adrenaline surging through my veins. Primal impulses returned after 2 million years of evolutionary dormancy. He realized my anger. I managed to strike his forearm before he ran in the opposite direction.

After checking the perimeter, I continued my journey– sweating and more freaked out than before. Though I was happy to be alone, I slightly regretted not pursuing this man and striking his head. At the moment, I was a Mzungu not to be reckoned with.

It was my fault, I shouldn’t have walked alone at night. I had learned my lesson.

As I write this, after four hours of cool down time, my nerves are still a tad shaky. Being a 6 foot tall half-black man from Detroit helped -- though I realize my luck. I tried to call someone to talk about it, but the connection was shaky, so now I write this to help process what happened.

Please don’t be freaked out by this post – I only have 3 days left here. I will post more updates on the backpack trip later.