Most of my problems in the last eight years have been the direct result of me doing the morally (or legally) right action.
On Saturday, I repeated the mistake of doing the morally correct action. Therefore, five men tried to kill me. To escape, I jumped into a flood-swollen river. It was awe-inspiring, and terrifying, how powerful the river was. I lost some things, such as a shoe. I have bruises and pain all over. One of my toenails was ripped off. I could have died, but compared to other incidents, the river was merely dangerous.
For 30 minutes, they couldn’t find me. But, they eventually saw me and chased me again. They threw rocks and bottles, and a few hit me.
I used a ladder to climb on the roof of a one-room house, and I pulled the ladder on the roof. For two hours, it rained and two of the men threw rocks at me, and got a third man, rope, and a machete. Plus, they discussed how to kill me.
After many hours, someone finally intervened. I left the town as quickly as possible.
The dog is gone.
I wasn’t afraid of death. I was afraid of the pain and that they might seriously injure me but fail to kill me. If they had guns instead of rocks and sticks, it would have been much better.