Some Fear Spiders My road less traveled. If life is an open book, then mine is a battle-scarred autobiography of exhilarating highs and suicidal lows, all rolled up in a cauldron of terror. Some Fear Spiders is the recounting of such. A white Kenyan of Czech refugees I grew up in a ?no nine-to-five? world. Jungle fighter, bush pilot, airline pilot and businessman, I was good at all. ?You?ve got balls, ? my military trainer said as he taught me to kill men, ?and they will serve you well.? Little did he know; little did I know. In 1978 I had it made in the shade. Military training, bush flying and airline piloting culminated in my Nairobi based reinforced plastics business. Furniture, gasoline tanks, boats and landing craft; all made money. The chutzpah of the Samantha 39, a ?Made in Kenya? ocean going yacht surpassed all, however. It puffed up my pride and fueled my balls-to-the-wall arrogance. Then the world caved in. Arrested, accused of theft I was hit by a two by four called corruption and greed. A puppet on a string, tortured and driven to the edge of suicide I all but threw in the towel, only those balls and the man above serving me well. ?Torture doesn't just damage your body, it also scars your mind, ? vied with ?Though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death? for the next 30 years. Two years ago my protective cocoon was upended, the words ?A long time ago in Africa I knew a man with a name such as yours? igniting all the shadows chasing shadows through the caverns of my mind. Only this time they brought redemption, and a wondrously healing room to scream in. Milan Vesely.