Not Here, Not Now

I’m usually a pretty big zombie movie fan.  It can be an interesting subject to think about and I enjoy imagining how I’d fare if this unlikely scenario was to occur.  Besides an old sports injury that would keep me from sprinting away too quickly, I figure I could hold it together and could survive maybe a little above average-ly well. 

But this afternoon I found myself thinking, “Please don’t let there be a zombie apocalypse while I am here in Africa. Not here, not now.” –OK, yes maybe thinking about zombie apocalypses may not always be categorized under normal activities, but I have a lot of time alone, so work with me here—Why did I find myself saying this? Because, I am almost 95% certain that I would not survive a zombie attack while I am here in Togo.

First of all I have no weapons.  If I was forced to defend myself from a zombie I would be out of luck.  Taking stock of what I would be able to find in my house: a frying pan, which I’m pretty sure the handle is going to fall off soon, so just a few whacks and I’m done for; and a hammer, a little too close range for my comfort; in a pinch I could probably grab my bench and use that but none of the options are optimal.  I have none of the typical sports or lawn equipment that represents the typical weapon choice and there is a zero percent chance I that will happen upon some avid hunter’s gun collection.  There are extremely few guns in Togo and hardly any private citizens own or possess a gun.  Some security guards and military personnel carry guns, but from what I understand bullets are often not included. So, in a fight to defend myself I’m basically handing myself over on a plate.

Actually escaping would be pretty much as impossible as defending myself. Particularly during the rainy season, roads can be impassible on a normal day, much less one with zombies. Roads are often barely wide enough for two cars and one overturned truck would block the only road to get where you are going.  There aren’t very many cars in good condition around either.

 With many windows that are cracked or don’t close, when your car inevitably stalls you are dinner in a take-out box.  There would be no stopping them from breaking the already weakened windows or clambering right into your lap as you reach for the window crank only to find it doesn’t exist.  And don’t bother trying to make a dash for it, the door you need to leave though probably doesn’t open or at the very least needs to be opened from the outside.  One positive note though is that you are unlikely to fumble with keys when trying to escape; many cars are old and the keys have been lost, so they are hotwired to run—just pinch the wires sticking out of the dashboard together and away you go!

In every zombie film the heroes are running to somewhere. They choose a spot they think may be safe and set that as their goal. I have no clue where I would try to run.  I am not familiar with the official or secure buildings in Togo or its surrounding countries and would be hopelessly lost.  I guess I may head for the U.S.  Embassy, they have marines and a building that is more soundly built than my own house.

If I wanted to hunker down and hope for it to blow over I’d be at great risk because my house itself is not an ideal zombie proof hideout.  You may think, “but Liz you have a walled in compound. Surely that will stop them!” My wall is maybe six and a half feet tall, and I have myself contemplated climbing over it when I have been locked out at night a couple of times. With a few zombie bodies piled up against it, it would be a cake walk to amble your zombie-self right over it.

My door would likely provide little to no extra protection, as I am quite sure a small child could break it down if they put a little effort into it.  The weight of a zombie horde would definitely be too much for my already splintered door to bear. I wouldn’t even be able to try the “be quiet and everything would be alright” tactic, because every sound in my compound is amplified ten times. I can hear my neighbors brush their teeth, one move and those flesh eaters would know I was in here.  On a positive note I do have bars on my windows, so at least they wouldn’t get in there.

Finally, I don’t know if I could mentally take a zombie apocalypse.  A while back I got my hands on the second half of the first season of the Walking Dead and I haven’t been able to bring myself to watch it; I get to the truck being turned over in the first scene and I’m done. I rather like the show,  and watched it alone and at night plenty back home, but I feel too uneasy to watch it by myself here. I think it’s from being so far from my friends and family and being in a country where I can’t talk to half the population, it has sapped a lot of my confidence and mental stability.   If I can’t hold it together enough for a TV show, how would I ever be able to survive a zombie attack?

I would never wish for a zombie apocalypse, but if there ever is going to be one, let it happen once I back home, where at the very least Matt could try to save me with his self-professed awesome zombie survival skills.