I used all my pent-up fear and frustration, and propelled myself down the hall and towards the boarding gate, stopping briefly to make sure I was headed in the right direction. I ran like Justin Timberlake was waiting at the boarding gate, holding a giant hunk of my favourite red velvet cake.
All I could do was stare out the window as four men leapt out of the car and surrounded us. In their hands were a combination of guns, knives and machetes. They smashed the side window with a long machete and glass flew everywhere. Our driver tried to reverse but one of the guys stuck a gun in his face as a warning and reached through the broken window to pull his door open.
I meet the five other housemates. One is fixing some of the electrical wiring while standing on a disused fridge, another is frantically sweeping the floor apparently on my account, and the rest are sitting in what seems to be the central living space, burning down an enormous trompeta – a great big dooby. One Love by Bob Marley is playing in an adjoining room.