How to Win the Rat Race

In my culture, a rat is a pest. It is not a pet. The only rat that I have seen having any usefulness is a lab rat. Any other rat is a menace. It is something to be trapped or poisoned and killed. It is therefore only because of belonging to the information age that I have come to know of pet rats. I have seen pictures and movies of grand cages that form the homes of these members of families in the west. These rats are adored to the extent that when they die, funeral services are performed in their honour by the families to which they belong.

I have seen the healthy diet on which these “lucky” rats are fed. Specially developed food specifically meant for rats is well-packaged with high-gloss pictures of happy rats contentedly gnawing their delicious pellets. The cages in which they live are spacious with all the necessities (and luxuries) any rat would dare to wish for. Of particular interest to me in these cages is a large drum wheel suspended in one corner of the rat residence. This is equivalent of a gym corner (or more specifically, a treadmill) for humans. It is in this wheel that a rat can run all day, or get as much exercise as it needs.

Frantic Movement on the Same Spot

The expression, “Rat Race”, is derived from the activity undertaken by pet rats on the wheel in their cages. They can run for miles (or their equivalent in rat units) but they remain on the same spot. Scientifically speaking, no work is done because the mass (read the rat) has not moved an inch, irrespective of how much energy has been expended. It is this analogy that is used to describe a person who works extremely hard but after a long time (measured in years or lifetimes) has nothing to show for it. That person is said to be stuck in the rat race.

Stopping to Rest and Going Back

All employees, me included, look forward to weekends, public holidays, and leave days. This is because, one can get a small rest before he goes back to the frantic search for more money to pay bills and clear debts. Looking at it critically, most people would give up and stop working because it appears hopeless. However, most people have faith that if they work hard enough today, they will not need to do so much tomorrow. It is that faith that keeps them going even as the future looks bleak to the “naked eye”.

Eating to Maintain Energy

For the rat in the cage to find energy to keep rotating the wheel, it needs a lot of food. It gets this from continuous eating (refer to healthy diet above). The same applies to a working class person who has to expend a lot of energy and other resources just to remain in the same position. This is the reason why the rat race is considered futile. It uses up entire lifetimes of people without them growing or improving in any way. If anything, it is almost as if their descendants are also assured of taking over the same race and ending as hopeless as their parents (if not worse off).

Spectators Having Fun

People who keep rats as pets like to sit at the cages and watch them run in the wheel. Watching the rats making fools of themselves is the main reason they keep them. They love the endless entertainment the rats afford them but this is only possible as long as the rats remain in the cage. If a rat escapes from its confinement, you will experience the weird scenario of grown people standing on sofas and shaking in fear until they are assured that the culprit has been recaptured or killed.

Getting out of the Rat Race

The first step to the solution of any problem is acceptance. For you to get out of the rat race, you have to accept that you are trapped in an enclosure. You also have to realise that those who are outside looking in are enjoying watching you making a fool of yourself. The energy you spend rotating that wheel (read overhead expenses) should be preserved for breaking out of the cage. Once out, you have to remember that people will be afraid of you and will be working hard to recapture you and put you back in your enclosure. You therefore need to completely get out of that house and go far away where possibly, in the future, you will have rats of your own to watch and have fun.

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Encounter with Serial Killer

He pounced on me with a two handed overhead swing of his four-foot hoe-stick. It landed squarely on my forehead. There was no pain, just shock. He landed two more in quick succession and I fell on my back. He stood over me and continued bludgeoning me on the head. I couldn’t see his face but his dark silhouette was imposing against the moonless sky. I suddenly found my voice and could hear my guttural scream of impending death coming from somewhere deep in my throat (and heart). It dawned on me that this was the serial killer who had been terrorising the villages around my area for the last few months.

There was a blank darkness where his face should have been. He had not uttered a word and I couldn’t hear him breath. I have a strong sense of smell but I couldn’t pick any scent from him. No perfume or sweat. He could as well have been a ghost. I must have disappointed him because I didn’t pass out even as he increased his tempo. Instead, I matched his speed with the intensity of my screaming. I must also have been violently kicking out because I picked the smell of the bushes at the site whose branches I had slashed away. I still shudder when I smell that particular kind of bush.

As the killer continued raining blows on my head, hitting only my forehead, I was trying to shield my face with my hands. It was at this point that the stick landed on my open right hand and I clasped it. This was more of a reflex than a planned move but my tight grip made him lose his balance. He fell on my legs and I now grabbed the stick with both of my hands and disentangled it from him. He ran off immediately and left me on the ground still struggling to get up. By now I was really scared and when I got up, I scampered to the main road a few metres away to where I had alighted from a matatu a few minutes before.

By the grace of God, a friend was dropping one of my neighbours at the road so that he could also take the same path along which I had been attacked. They had actually heard my screams but had initially assumed it was a drunkard until I showed up. They rushed me to hospital where I was attended to. I got four stitches to close that gaping gash on my forehead. The physical injury is now healed save for the obvious long scar on my head. However, that killer took away my courage. I am now extremely afraid of the dark and have a problem falling asleep at night.

Lessons from the Ordeal

When I approached the crouching attacker, I had assumed it was a sweater thrown on the bushes. By the time I realised it was a person, I was too close to him and he didn’t waste time pouncing on me. I should have turned back without waiting to confirm if it was a person. Now I know.

Profile of a Serial Killer

Save for his face, I noticed a number of things about my attacker. He was dressed in a sweater with blue and white patterns. He had medium hair that appeared well combed. His lack of a smell described above could also point to the fact that he is a clean and well groomed person. In my mind, I see a person who probably has a family and a regular job. He had left his wife preparing supper at around seven in the evening as he went out to get his kick. He then went back to check his kid’s homework. The kid innocently asked him, “Daddy where have you been?” to which he coolly answered, “Just stretching my limbs a bit”.