My Attempt at Being a Superhero

I don’t aspire to be a superhero. Most days, I don’t even feel equipped to deal with the common, everyday challenges of life. I’m happy to simply end the day a little bit better person than I was the day before. Unfortunately, those days don’t come along as often as I would like. Then there are sometimes days when you are simply thrust into the absurd and you are forced to deal with it by digging deep into those superhero powers you didn’t even know you possessed.

Mombasa, Kenya is the hottest and most humid climate I’ve ever lived in.  I usually take two showers a day — one after breakfast before heading to work and the other in the evening before going to bed. After taking a shower, I hang my towel outside to dry on a clothesline hung under the overhand on the side of the house right outside the main door. There is a towel rack in the shower, but I’ve had problems in the past with those microscopic sized ants inhabiting my towel. On multiple occasions, not realizing that my towel was infested, I started to dry off with it and ended up getting bitten all over, having to turn on the shower again to wash the ants off me. For such little creatures, those ants hurt when they bite— although it may be more a case of strength in numbers than individual ants. In any case, that is why I hang my towel outside.

As I take my evening shower after it is dark, I usually just dry myself off, put on underwear and quickly run outside to hang my towel on the clothesline. Although my neighbor’s house on that side is right next to mine, we are separated by a chain linked fence with hedges growing through it that rise to about eight feet. Someone could technically see me if they looked, but it is completely dark when I go out to hang my towel and I’m outside for all of five seconds. At least that’s the way I rationalize going outside in my underwear to myself. For those of you wondering, I do put on shorts when I go out to hang my towel after my shower in the morning. This is a family neighborhood, after all.

As is the case with most buildings in Kenya, the house where I live is enclosed by a wall and a gate for security reasons. I keep the outside gate padlocked almost all the time. The wall, which is about eight feet high, is made of cement on three sides and out of a chain linked fence and hedges on the third side — the side where I hang my towel. All the windows on the house, which are pretty much always open because of the heat, are covered by steel window grates, which cannot be opened. The two doors to the house have steel security gates, which I padlock at night, on the outside of the wooden doors.

The padlocks that I use for the security gates on each of the two doors are those idiot proof locks, which you can only lock with the key. Knowing me, I would inevitably lock myself out of the house with normal padlocks.  The wooden doors to the house use skeleton keys to lock, which is typical for doors in Kenya. On my keychain, I have the keys to the skeleton locks for the door, the padlocks to the security gates, as well as the key to the gate to exit the wall that surrounds the house.

For some reason, after coming home one day and unlocking the padlock to the security gate and the lock to the door, I placed the skeleton key into the lock on the inside of the house door, with the padlock hanging from it (remember, the key can only be removed from the padlock by locking the lock). I don’t usually do this. I’m a creature of habit and try to follow the same routine all the time – if for no other reason than the fact that I can retrace my steps if needed. I absolutely hate when I put something down unconsciously without thinking and then can’t find it later. After coming home that night, I forgot all about the door and left it unlocked with the key and lock hanging from the inside of the door as I ate dinner and later took a shower. 

When attempted to exit the house (in my underwear) to hang my towel, I found the door unlocked. I proceeded outside and closed the door behind me figuring that I would just lock everything on my way back in. I hung the towel quickly and proceeded to open the door to reenter the house. Locked! What? I tried again. Still locked. How could this be? The door can only be locked with the key and the key is inserted into the inside side of the lock. Panic starts to set in. Maybe the lock is just stuck. I try jiggling and shaking the handle of the door to see if I that will help. Nothing. Still locked. What now?

Several thoughts went through my head. It would be embarrassing, but I could call one of my friends, who lives close by, to come help me. Not sure exactly how he would help, but I’m desperate. Oh, I can’t call him because my phone is inside the house, and I’m locked outside.

I could yell and try to get my neighbors attention, but that would also be embarrassing. What could they do anyway?

Oh, I keep a spare set of keys at the HOPE office at the church, which is a five-minute walk away. OK, now I’m getting somewhere. But as I don’t have the key to the gate to get outside the wall, I’d somehow have to scale the wall and jump down into the street. I have only an outdoor plastic chair to use to scale the wall. Even if I was successful and didn’t kill myself in the process, I’d then be locked out of my compound in the dark with no shoes and wearing only underwear. And I’d have a towel if I remembered to bring that with me.  I’d then have to walk in my underwear barefoot to the church, which is a five-minute walk with shoes, over non paved surfaces with rocks and who knows what else. I’d then have to present myself to the security guards at the church and have them let me into the office so I could get the spare set of keys. Once I have the keys, I’d have to make the return trek back home. Knocking on the rectory door in only my underwear to ask one of the priests to drive me home was a little too much to contemplate. And what if I can’t find the spare set of keys? Although I know where the keys are supposed to be, I haven’t seen them in a few years. Although this seemed like the most reasonable option, I just couldn’t get myself to follow through with it.

Then I thought about sleeping outside on one of the plastic chairs. It’s not safe to do so, but what choice do I have. But then I thought through where this gets me.  I’d be in the same situation in the morning, but it will be light out instead of dark. Then no matter what I do to try to get into my house, everyone will see.  If I didn’t like the idea of scaling the wall and walking to the church in the dark, how much worse would it be to have to do this in the daylight with people walking about getting water and food, walking to work, and going to the church.

Think. Think. There must be another way. Then I came to the realization that I’m going to have to kick in the door. Is that even possible? They do it in the movies, but that’s not reality. Sure, I have a black belt in karate, but I’ve never actually kicked in a door before or even tried to. How much noise will it make? What will the neighbors think is happening? I have no choice.

With this apparently the only option, I start to think of the consequences. I could possibly break the whole door. This is not my house, I just rent it. At a minimum, I’m going to wreck the whole door frame and probably the lock.

Can I really do this with one kick? Breaking down a door is not something you can do a little at time. It’s not like you can chip away at it until you break through. The action must be performed in one large burst of force.

Upon further reflection, I came up with the idea that it would be easier to break down the door if I held the door latch open while I kicked the door. Makes sense as I would then only need to break through the deadbolt, not both the latch and the deadbolt. One problem though. Holding the door latch open with one hand while trying to kick means I’m within arm’s length of the door with little room to generate power into the kick. After stalling for a few seconds, I finally got up the nerve to give it a try. While holding the door latch open with my left hand, I kicked with my right foot. The door rattled but stood firm. It is just hard to generate enough power at such a short distance. Did my neighbors hear that? I listened but didn’t hear anyone. I decided to wait a few seconds to make sure before I try again.

Then came one of those moments in my life where I knew I just had to go for it. I had to do what I needed to do regardless of the consequences. I had no other choice. I was pretty sure I could break down the door. I just wanted to minimize the damage and the noise to prevent my neighbors from rushing over to see what was going on.

So, I just did it. Like I was taught in martial arts training, you must envision striking or kicking through the object. The door burst inwards. Splintered wood and wall cement splattered everywhere. I did it. I was in. I’m not sure if it was the right solution, but it was too late to worry about that now.

Now that I was in the house, it was time to clean up and assess the damage. As I purposely kicked the door right below the lock, the door fortunately suffered no damage. I thought the lock might need to be replaced, but it just kind of fell out of the door due to the kick. Once I screwed the lock back into the door, it was fine. The door jamb, however, was another story. As the deadbolt and lock had to break through the door jamb, it splintered and pulled out of the cement. Not only was one side of the door jamb in shambles, but there were now sizeable holes in wall that the door jamb pulled away. However, in the end, I only ended up only having to have that one side of the door jamb rebuilt and the cement on the wall that tore away with the door jamb patched up. Then both the piece of wall that was patched, the door frame, and the door were repainted. Everything now looks good as new. OK, it didn’t look good as new even before the incident. The door pretty much looks the way it was before this whole episode — maybe even a little bit better with the new coats of paint.

So that is the story of my superhero moment. I never aspired to be a superhero and wouldn’t have freely chosen to be put in in this kind of situation. Then again, I don’t think anyone wants to be put in a situation where they have to be a superhero. However, people often find themselves in these types of no-win situations and must dig deep and do it when they need to. I just wish my opportunity had been in service of a more noble cause than breaking into my own house. Maybe next time, God willing.

Good is good.