Of accidents and victims

GORDON KEMBLEY
Correspondent | Wednesday March 21, 2007 00:00

The green Mophane foliage shook in consonance as the wind massaged its leaves. So peaceful was this place that the sight of an 'old' vehicle by the roadside immediately became such an eyesore that I wondered why no one was removing the vehicle shell. I passed and noticed three people by the roadside - a woman, a little girl about four years old and someone who was lying belly down on the ground. The tall grass prevented me from seeing what they were doing, but it appeared the person was weaving. I assumed it was an old woman who with her children were waiting for a lift in the direction whence I came. Nonetheless, I found that strange and I continued glancing at my rear-view mirror.

In the mirror I saw a gold dust coloured Corolla suddenly pull over to the side of the road where the three people stood. The driver of the car quickly got out and the passenger immediately assumed the driver's seat. He sped past me towards the police at the Serule barrier gate, missing a growling two-trailer truck by a few inches. I decided right then that what I had just passed was an accident scene. I made a U-turn and was by the three people by within a matter of seconds. That 'old' car was a fairly new car that had just overturned. The one lying on the ground - a man in his 30s, immediately worried me. An ugly swelling stood at the back of his head like a grotesque horn. He was in pain and too shocked to say much. By his side a woman, also in her 30s, sat down, her right hand hanging limply and cruelly twisted. She, too, was in shock and kept complaining that she was choking. Any ambulance that we called in would be coming from Selebi-Phikwe or Francistown, both of which are at least 25 minutes away at the best speed manageable. I borrowed a phone from the driver of the Corolla and dialled 998. I informed the lady on the other end that I was taking the patients to Serule clinic and to please call the clinic and alert them. Just then the police arrived. They expressed the wish to transport the patients to the clinic. But they did not have any first aid equipment on their truck - no stretcher and no gloves. And I realised immediately that the police had no training in first aid. There was no doubt however that the police officers genuinely wanted to help as they showed then and thereafter. I advised that we should not place the injured in the metal floored back of the police van, and reclined my passenger seat into a mini-stretcher. Carefully, avoiding sudden jerking movements that could do major harm to the patient we helped the man sprawled on the ground onto the car. We then helped the woman who seemingly would only have the hand to worry about. All this time the woman's little four-year-old daughter stood watching, frightened and confused beyond endurance. She had been flung out the back window of the car, and had miraculously not been injured save for a small abrasion. There was no space in my car for the little girl, with the rest of the remaining space at the back seat having been taken up by the reclined seat. The police took the child and followed us to the clinic, some 16km from the accident scene.

There were two gates at the clinic, and they both had a huge chain and a padlock. After making two trips to both gates and frustrated by the fact that no one seemed to notice that we needed help, I blew my horn. Under a tree at one of the houses at the clinic stood four men. They only moved when the police arrived. It turned out that one of them was an ambulance driver and the other a nurse.

At that minute, I was both angry and anxious to have my patients receive help.
The nurse had enough sense not to argue and we soon worked together to place the male patient on the stretcher. The clinic had only one stretcher and a blanket was brought for the woman to lie on. The woman's little girl began to cry. I took her in my arms and remembering my own little girl her age fought back tears as they welled in my eyes. The child refused to board the ambulance with her mother and proffered to go with me. Along the way to the clinic I had quickly enquired about the identities of my patients. The woman turned out to be someone who was known to my wife as they work for the same company.

I asked her where I could find her family in Francistown to take the obviously traumatised little girl. She gave me the house number. However, on second thought I asked her to give me the numbers of the family and a friend who were driving from Francistown to see her. I spoke with them and we arranged to meet along the way. I could not follow the ambulance to Selebi-Phikwe as I was in a hurry to fetch my grandmother and other family members who were coming from Zimbabwe for my aunt's funeral in Francistown, and had for the last two hours waited on the Zimbabwean side.

After assuring the mother that her baby would be fine, I drove off. A minute later I heard the ambulance's siren. I said a soft prayer for the man I had picked up, and the mother who had trusted me with the life of her little girl.

I reached the accident scene only to see some men prizing open the boot with a wheel spanner. I asked them what they were doing. 'A CID officer asked us to remove valuables from the car so that thieves would not take them,' said one of the men, all of whom were ostensibly employees of a company whose car was parked by the roadside.

'And what did he say his name was?' 'I don't know his name, but he is wearing a brown shirt. He went over to the barrier gate,' answered the same man.

His mate came over to the fence and said importantly, 'The owner of this vehicle is the one with gold teeth, is that right?'

I told him that I was least concerned about the kind of teeth accident victims had. I drove to the barrier gate and informed the first officer that I saw about the men. One of the men had said that a CID officer had assigned them to remove valuables from the overturned car. I could not understand how a CID officer fitted into the whole picture. I also gave him the registration number of the company vehicle that they were driving. I imagined that unless the police did something, only the vehicle's shell would be remaining after a few hours. I remembered flittingly a blue Honda Ballade that I passed a few months back along the same road near Mahalapye, and whose parts were stolen within a matter of hours. Its shell remains by the roadside, as if patiently waiting for the scrap metal collectors.

I drove on and met my little scared passenger's family along the way. I handed the child over to them and drove on to meet my family at the Mphoeng/Matsiloje border.
Later in the day I received a call from the woman's boyfriend. The woman was found to be without any broken bones. I asked him to also check on the male passenger. He too had no broken bones. These too were saved by seatbelts. In fact the woman told me that she had only just buckled up when the vehicle overturned.

'I had buckled up the baby and the police had asked me at the barrier gate to buckle myself up instead and hold the child. That was God's intervention. I do not think I would have made it were it not for the seat-belt,' she said when I later spoke with her.

Still worried about items in the overturned car, I visited the driver and his injured passenger at their home in Francistown - coincidentally their home is only a few hundred metres from where my aunt stayed and where prayers were being held. The men whom I found fiddling with the car had after my departure brought some items from the car to the police. The items included the car radio, speakers and CDs.

I have been in constant touch with my 'patients' and am happy that they are recovering from their injuries. It is a truly gratifying feeling. I wish to meet my little friend who trusted me although she did not know me. Hopefully she will have the opportunity to meet my little girl and in child-language narrate to her the horror of an accident that almost killed the adults she was travelling with and how the angels held her little body in their hands so that she did not get hurt.