10/03/2026
TOO SENSITIVE VIDEO: A JOURNEY OF PAIN, HOPE AND FADING BREATH
Patrick Mwamba Salubusa wrote
Yesterday will remain one of the heaviest days of my life.
When the call came that Gibson Zulu had been set on fire, I rushed to the scene in the same black vehicle that has quietly become part of my journey of service - a vehicle that has carried the sick to hospitals, victims to police stations, children to schools, and grieving families to funerals, long before I even became a councilor.
When I arrived, the smell of burnt flesh filled the air and the cries of pain pierced through the morning. We wanted to wait for the police to arrive but time was not our side. We had to act.
With no gloves around, I wrapped my hands in plastics - improvised gloves of urgency - and together with others we carefully lifted Gibby. His body trembled with pain as we carried him into the black vehicle that has answered so many cries in our community.
The moment we began the journey, his voice filled the vehicle.
“Manzi… Manzi… Manzi…”
He repeated this again and again throughout the road. It was not just the thirst of a man whose body had been scorched by flames. It was the cry of a soul clinging to life, fighting to stay in this world just a little longer.
Inside that vehicle yesterday, I was not just a driver. I became many things at once - a driver rushing against time, a police officer responding to a crime, a fire officer rescuing a victim, a nurse trying to hold together a broken body, and a pastor silently praying for a miracle.
When we reached the hospital, the nurses struggled to find veins through the burns. I held his legs tightly to steady him as they searched for a place where the needle could enter.
In the midst of his agony, he looked at the nurse and pleaded softly:
“Please give me an injection for this pain… so that the pain can reduce and I can sleep.”
In that moment, I felt his pain deeper than words can explain. It was the pain of a human being whose body had been broken by cruelty, yet whose spirit was still hoping for relief - even if only for a moment of sleep.
For years, this black vehicle has been a witness to many journeys in my ward - journeys of hope, sickness, celebration and grief.
But yesterday it carried something heavier than all the others.
It carried a man fighting for his life.
And then, past 21 he breathed his last.
The cries of “Manzi… Manzi… Manzi…” have now fallen silent.
May his soul rest in eternal peace.
Mader Mander Tv
