That Time I Got Hit by a New Year Rocket and Learned How Lucky I Was

Misfortune and luck always depend on your point of view.

It was something I often feared but never expected to happen. Fireworks have fascinated and scared me at the same time. As much as I loved taking photographs of the colorful shows on the sky, I still hated the loud bangs and feared those nonstarters.

One year prior to this event I spent New Year’s in Oslo and found myself amidst a crowd in a public gathering. Despite the ban of any fireworks being lit in the city, there were rockets going straight from the crowds and through the crowds. It didn’t take long before my friend and I escaped and went back to the hotel.

I survived it that time without any injuries except for the fear remaining in my head.

One year later I found myself on a different continent, in a foreign country amidst people who were all strange to me.

I had hiked along the west coast of Ghana for 5 days. Starting on my birthday and ending it on New Year’s eve. I had walked along endless tropical beaches, had crossed stretches of coastal rainforests, and most importantly — I had done it all on my own.

I wouldn’t say I was alone because most of the time I was walking with locals or they were walking with me. Depending on your point of view. Locals have brought me coconuts down from palm trees when I was thirsty and protected me when thieves planned to rob me.

And then I had left the wilderness and reached a bigger town. Not ready for the hustle and bustle of the city I decided to stay that night in the resort on the beach. It was quite expensive by Ghanaian standards. But after some days in cottages and on beds in the sand I could afford one night in a beach resort.

Entertainment was plenty during the evening. From drumming sessions to live music and waiters always on your side I had nothing to lack that night. After dinner, I decided to go back to my room and get changed. From a summery dress, I changed into one of my long pants sewn by a Ghanaian seamstress.

I can’t tell you why I decided to get changed. It’s not like it was cold there in the evenings. I just put on the long pants and came back with the camera to capture the firework.

Well, that didn’t last long. At least not for me.

Going through the folder of photographs of that trip I found exactly one shot of the firework. And that one wasn’t even great. I’ve taken many pictures of fireworks before. I never stop after one. Except for this time.

The hotel staff was preparing and starting the firework on the beach. They placed bottles into the sand where they then inserted the rockets. Most tourists and visitors were right behind the line of fireworks. I decided to stay further back. In between an alley of palm trees I stopped and watched the sky.

When all of a sudden, I found myself lying on the ground. I remember getting hit by something. Something very powerful. One bottle must have fallen over and that firework rocket had gone across the ground. Straight for my leg.

The impact of the force of this rocket had pushed me over. Until this day, I did not know how strong these things are. I was lucky the explosion did not happen on impact. About a meter next to me, right after hitting me, the firework exploded.

I obviously had closed my eyes. And then I was lying on the grass in between the palm trees. A European tourist had watched the scenario and came rushing towards me. He kept on saying something about toothpaste. And if my leg was red.

I still hadn’t realized what had happened. I was still in shock. And under adrenaline. I did not feel pain. Yet. Eventually, I followed the guy’s instructions and went to the nearest toilet. I pulled down my pants to look at my leg. For sure, it was red. A big red mark was covering my thigh.

So, I came back out again where the same guy was waiting for an answer from me. As I told him how my leg looked like he sent a staff member with me back to my room and instructed me to apply toothpaste to the wound.

The waiter or staff member didn’t come with me immediately. He still helped a few customers before reaching me. I was already on my way up the hill. Since I had booked the cheapest room, it was rather far away from the beach. I was limping by now.

As I reached the room the guy looked rather helpless and I just sent him off. It’s not like he could have been doing anything for me now anymore. I had to take those pants off and apply toothpaste as the guy instructed.

By now I had realized what had happened and decided to contact all the nurses I got to know over the years. But I also knew they would not be responding since it was just after midnight on New Year’s.

I applied toothpaste and maybe later also another cream I had with me in my first-aid kit which was against burns. The adrenaline was gone and now the pain had set in. I started crying. Not because of what had happened. Or because I was alone. I was crying because of the pain.

I have never in my life felt such pain like that night. I cried for hours until I finally fell asleep. I cried myself into sleep. And I don’t think I slept much that night. The pain woke me up again.

You might be asking why I did not call an ambulance or decided to go to a hospital. And I have a rather straightforward answer for you. Ghana is a little different. I knew I was far away from the nearest city. For sure, every town has a clinic but those clinics are rather basic and they don’t work very sterile. I’ve seen them and their work.

If my leg wasn’t infected from the parts of the rocket that hit me, then it would have gotten infected for sure after visiting the clinic. I had lots of disinfectant and dressing material so that I could treat the wound myself. For now. I had treated many wounds, cuts, and other minor injuries of myself and others during my stay in Ghana.

But I also knew I had to get this wound checked out by a doctor. I was worried something had come inside of it and gotten infected. It was an open wound. It wasn’t bleeding much but the flesh was visible.

And there I had made my decision on the 1st of January to travel to the capital which was about a 5-hour drive away. I chose the capital of Accra because I knew a good private hospital over there where a friend had been treated before and I had visited her.

The problem was just the long drive. It’s not a drive you would expect. I had to get on a minibus and sit squeezed between many others for hours on bumpy roads before reaching the hospital.

But my decision was made. I had packed my backpack and limped to the reception to check-out. Nobody had checked in with me the night before, after the incident. And nobody required about my injury this morning. By all means, it had been caused by the hotel staff's negligence.

But I did not really care. I just asked them to call me a taxi which could drive me to the bus station.

And as the taxi arrived, the driver greeted me in the friendliest Ghanian way with “good morning, madam, how are you?” And since I was in lots of pain and upset about the behavior of the hotel I just answered “not good”.

The taxi driver stopped in the moment of putting my bag in the boot and looked surprised. I explained to him what had happened and he simply replied

“You are so lucky, you know that?”

Now, I was the one who needed a break. Wait what was he saying? But before I could answer anything he kept on going. First of all, that rocket could have gone into my eye. What then? And secondly, he mentioned another guy he met the previous day who lost his leg. Or both legs. I can’t remember.

Anyhow. With his words that might have appeared harsh to me at first, he brightened up my day. Despite the hours of pain in the minibus I had following the short drive with him, I didn’t feel bad anymore. I had no more desire to cry or feel pity for myself.

He was very right. I was very lucky. It could have ended much worse.

(Well I was still in a lot of pain. To be exact, I had pain for over a month.)

I made it that day to the hospital and the doctor who was looking at my wound got initially a shock due to the massive blue mark on my leg. She had never seen a blue mark before since she rarely ever treats white people.

I insured her the color of my leg was normal due to the massive impact of the rocket and she insured me the open wound was nothing to worry about. She had seen much worse which I was sure about. And that was another sign of how lucky I was.

I am still walking. I have a little mark on my leg till today. But that mark is just a reminder of how lucky I was that day.

So remember this. The next time you feel horrible because something bad had happened to you and you’re wondering why you are always so unlucky, just pause for a moment and think if you are really in such a bad position. Or maybe your position isn’t as bad after all and your misfortune is actually not really worth mentioning.

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