Accident

It was one of those situations where you see what is about to happen before it actually does. I decided to get my hair cut on Thursday, and at lunchtime, headed across town. As I was traveling around a large roundabout, turning left, I saw a small SUV speed across the circle, heading toward me. I managed to use the hand brake, and turn, but too little, too late. The handlebars of my motorbike hit the back quarter panel of the SUV and a moment later I was lying on the pavement.

The lying part didn’t last long, as there was still traffic, and I didn’t think I was hurt that badly. I collected my bike (which started), and kept moving. It wasn’t until a few seconds later that it really hit me—I was in an accident. There’s no closure on a vehicle smash-up here. The cops aren’t called, insurance forms aren’t filed. The driver of the other car didn’t even stop. I found out later that (in the words of someone else), he probably didn’t want to pay. The rules are straightforward: the person with the bigger car pays the other person for their injury or damages. Unless the person with the bigger car also happens to be Someone Really Important, in which case they receive the money.

In any case, I made it to the hair salon, where I was promptly cleaned up by the proprietor—all I could think was, “I really hope that towel is clean. I don’t want a staph infection.”—and given the haircut I wanted. I’m tempted to tell the owner she should change the name to Kim Srah Beauty Salon and Motorbike Accident Recovery Center. When I got back to work in the afternoon, my bike was put back together by our wonderful guard/mechanic. The scrapes on my elbow, knees, and hip were painful, but nothing too bad. Except for when I tried to use an alcohol wipe on them. That was a new level of pain (but, goodbye staph infection).

As the shock wore off, things started to hurt more. I’m incredibly stiff, and my shoulder and neck are pretty sore. I won’t be moving quickly for the next couple of days. I say “ow” a lot. But still, I’m fine. I keep repeating the phrases, “it could have been worse” and “thank God I’m not hurt any more.”

Last week, a woman from my church told me her flatmate had her purse stolen as she rode on the back of a motorbike. The woman said she felt vulnerable, scared of all the possible things that could happen to a female foreigner. It’s true. There is a lot of danger. Robbery, traffic accidents, illness. Things that could happen anywhere, really, but I seem to have a heightened awareness of them here. Today I’m a little more wary of Cambodia, a little more cautious of all the things that might hurt me. My body will heal, and I probably won’t even have a scar. But my memory will always hold the feelings from that split-second of lying in the street, stretched out like I had just stolen second base. Today I am vulnerable, and cautious, and very, very sore.