When sleep finally begged to be slept, I had no choice but to give in. I stopped the series that I was watching -one of those that was a favorite for many a series watcher about three years ago but since I am always late to the party, I’m just getting hooked on it- and prepared to travel to wonderland. It was not the hardest of sleep trips to take as I had worn the last standing muscles in my body, my eyes, weary looking at a radiant screen for hours on end.

With journey mercies (read bedtime prayers) said, I slipped between my inviting warm sheets and geared up; throwing a heavy blanket over myself for a memorable but short trip on a chilly Easter weekend night. I knew the trip wouldn’t last long since it was only a few hours before the sun would wake up to wash it’s face with the morning dew on the easterly horizons before going out, with gusto, to comb through these lands before it finally clocked out and went to bed at dusk.

After a few hours on the road (is there such a thing as sleep-travelling just as there is sleep walking and talking) I finally I arrived at a bayside area somewhere on the much revered Lake Victoria. Little known to me, a group of friends had travelled ahead of me (perhaps we shared a telepathic dream last night). By the time I docked, they were already dressed down to swimwear to allow the sun tickle their skins. The already settled in party was elated that I had finally joined them (do I need another whole sentence to say yours [un]truly is the party of the party?).

[Let’s get this party started] Lake Victoria has been murky lately, with its water turning green and dark for most parts of the lake but this doesn’t hold back one from taking a dive in the lake when it gets scorching hot. I don’t recall exactly who went first but I remember diving in after Moses (real name), the seasoned swimmer amongst us all. Following close up to him, we swam down in a formation to a relatively small strip of rocky land standing a few-minutes-swim away from the mainland. The unspoken plan was to reach the rocky strip of land, take a walk around the rocks and jump back into the water. Unfortunately when we arrived atop the rocks I got lazy; the vantage point from the peak of the rocky island begged me to call for a timeout just so we could marvel at the wonder all around us.

After a few minutes (that seemed like hours) of marvelling at the breathtakingly beautiful scenery around us, we started our descent as we revelled in conversation and bewilderment. A few steps down the rocks, Moses goes, “Sssshhhhhhhh. Look down to the bottom of the rocks.” A cheetah was lulling right at the centre of the path we had used on our way up. The sudden silence didn’t spare us from sending it notice that it had company up the rocks. Once it got the notification it started walking up towards us. First, in a fashionable catwalk and then, in charged steps. That’s when the race for the peak started…

Foolishly we didn’t know going up the rocks was only a step closer to getting savagely devoured; we were unwittingly cornering ourselves to be preyed for a feast. With realization of our soon-to-be-departed from this earth moment, prayers were said, inaudibly and profusely. Tongues were spoken. A gravely loud hush fell over the rocks. When the moment finally came for me to be feasted upon, I heard a knock at my door and saw a fleeting image of the cheetah as it walked away dissatisfied with the meal that never was.

Good morning…