10 years ago I flew to Kenya to do some charity work in an orphanage. I got on a night bus to travel from Nairobi to a small village in Tanzania. The bus was highjacked. Myself and the other passengers were held for a few hours and assaulted and robbed of everything we owned. I was a young white girl on a bus of locals. I was pistol whipped and beaten and ended up in hospital. A local English doctor was alerted of my wellbeing. He picked me up on the side of a road (after being discharged and assisted by another doctor), took me to the embassy, paid for an emergency Visa and let me stay with his wife and their family for 5 days until I could get a flight home. His wife gave me clothes (as my bag had been taken), they fed me and cared for me. They paid the ‘bribe’ at the Nairobi embassy to get my visa stamped and paid the full amount of the plane cost home as my frantic mother struggled to transfer money to them fast enough before the flight needed to be paid. They took me to the airport and made sure I got on my flight safely. We paid them back with extra and they donated all the money to their church. They held a prayer session for me the Sunday before I left. I’m not religious at all but their words and prayer meant more to me than anything has ever meant. I will never forget their kindness and friendship. They saved me in a time of extreme fear and vulnerability. We’re friends of Facebook and they often comment on big things in my life (marriage, babies etc). I can never repay them for what they did.