“I was making deliveries and collecting money for a South African maize company. Sometimes I would cover 480 kilometres in a single day driving down washboard roads strewn with rock and mud. I had a guard with me and we would carry huge sums of money. I never put the money in the safe though. The bandits expected to find it in the safe. So I hid it on my body. I also hid a 9mm pistol. On the day that I was robbed I had it behind my back, the barrel tucked beneath my beltline and the grip exposed but under my shirt. There was a bullet in the chamber but I had the safety on.
The owner of the house had a troubled look when I arrived to secure his money. He was never outside. And he was that day. And he was quiet. It was when I was leaving and I bent down to get into the car that I felt the pistol to my temple. Another pulled a shotgun on my guard who was already seated in the passenger seat. I think there was a total of four. The one who had the pistol to my head demanded the safe key. I told him that it was under the dash. He was stricken by panic. He was sweating. I gave a look to my guard as I reached forward. I wanted him to know what I was about to do. And he did.
As I leaned forward for the safe key I slid one hand behind my back. The bandit was focused on the money. He wanted the key and he wanted to make sure that the key was, in fact, what I was reaching for under that dash. His eyes never left my left hand. My right hand was releasing the safety. When I had the key, I leaned back into my seat and I held it up in front of the bandits face. The 9mm was at my side now. He looked at the key and then reached for it. I don’t know if he saw it coming. The blast and heat of the barrel burned my stomach. And it was bruised for like two weeks. I fired two shots into his chest. The rest of them split like cockroaches. I got out of the car. Then I shot another one in the back while he was running away. Just out of frustration.”
~Anonymous
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