Life is all fun and games until you get stuck in an elevator, by yourself. At first, you console yourself that it is just a technical hitch. Maybe the power went out. Ten seconds pass by. Nothing happens. Fifteen seconds. Don’t they have back -up generators here? Thirty seconds. Suddenly, the elevator lunges down and stops abruptly, jolting you to the reality that you are trapped in a fifteen square feet metallic cell. Your first reflex action is to press the open button. There is no reaction. You ring the bell. It is as dead as a dodo. You frantically run your index finger on all the other buttons hoping one of them will activate the rest. They are all unresponsive. You grab your phone and dial the emergency number right above the buttons. It is out of service. The elevator briskly lurches downwards again, this time at a jaw clenching speed before stopping instantaneously, followed by a blanket of darkness. The lights have gone out.
That’s it, you think to yourself. I am screwed. You have seen this in the movies. The only way to save yourself would be climbing out and scaling down the greasy wires with your bare hands. That requires the guts of Tom Cruise and the physical stamina of Jason Statham. But you are obese and pigeon-hearted and have stuff coming out of every hole. You knock on the door of the elevator incomprehensibly screaming out for help. No response. You pull out your phone and try to make a call but there is no network coverage. You feel helpless. You start to curse yourself. What brought me to this building with faulty elevators in the first place? A freaking haircut! What does it benefit a man to gain a trim but lose his life? God, please save me. I promise I will start paying my tithe. And my taxes. I promise I will listen to Mutahi Kagwe and stay at home.
Because you serve a just God, He listens to you and you come out alive and unscathed. That evening, you realize that taking the stairs is not that a big deal. It’s good exercise after all. And obese you could use a lot of it. You also realise that the first person you called as soon as you were out of the elevator is your mother. Maybe you should call her more often in future. Call her just for just. Especially at times when you are not about to die.