- Most of my problems in the last eight years have been the direct result of me doing the morally (or legally) correct action.
- On Saturday, I repeated the mistake of doing the morally correct action. Therefore, five men tried to kill me. I tried to outrun them. To escape from them, 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 the men chasing me, the river was merely dangerous.
- For 30 minutes after I had jumped into the river, they couldn’t find me. But they eventually saw me and started chasing me again. They threw rocks, sticks, and bottles at me, and a few hit me.
- I used a ladder to climb on the roof of a one-room house, and I pulled the ladder onto the roof. It rained for the next two hours. Three men gave up, but two of the men persisted. They threw rocks at me. They got a third man, a rope for climbing onto the roof, and a machete for killing me. They discussed different ways to kill me, and they started stacking firewood and barrels next to the house so they could climb up to me.
- After many hours of me running, jumping into the river, screaming for help, bystanders mocking my screams for help, running more, and being trapped on the roof, 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 pain. I was afraid they might merely seriously injure me but fail to kill me. If they had guns instead of rocks and sticks, it would have been much better.
