40 thousand RMB (roughly $6000), perhaps, is not that big of a deal if we are talking about a trip to, say, Brazil or Japan. Business class, nice hotels…sounds great, doesn’t it? But this trip was nothing of the kind.
Date: June 29th, 2008.
Destination: Shi Du rapids, Fangshan District, Beijing.
Means of transportation: Our newly purchased 1995 Jeep Cherokee.
Traveling accessories: map, directions printed off Baidu and a huge bag of snacks.
Weather: A slight drizzle.
Mood: Upbeat.
After an hour and a half of driving, we almost reached our destination. Another 20 kilometers, and we’d be there. Anticipation, excitement, you name it. And then, less than 10 meters ahead of us, from between the bushes on the right side of the road, came a man on the bike. He paused on the side of the road, and kept going. It was momentarily clear what was going to happen next. To tell the truth, I blanked out for a second. Screeching tires, sound of a body hitting the windshield. Silence… I opened my eyes (I wasn’t the one driving). The corner of the windshield was smashed in on my side. I opened the door and jumped out. The bike, twisted, lay on the side. Then came the straw hat. Then the man. He lay on the wet ground, moaning. From the gash on the inside of this right ankle black blood was coming out, in unison with his heartbeat.
Time: appr. 12:10.
Surroundings: fields as far as you can see, tall bushes on the side of the road.
People around: 0 (hence no gawking crowd).
Road setup: 2-lane freeway, cars whizzing by, nobody stopping to my frantic waving.
Weather: drizzle.
Mood: freaked out.
We didn’t know what to do. We didn’t know where exactly we were. No pedestrian traffic in that part of the universe. Somebody slowed down and told us: call the traffic police, 122. I called. They picked up. I said, in Chinese: “Please help me, we hit a man on a bike, what do we do now?” Reply: “Do you need an ambulance?” Me: “Could you please tell us what we are required to do by law, please!” Answer: “Do you need an ambulance?” Me: “Urgh!” I hung up. Somebody else slowed down (mind you, nobody would pull over), saying: call the ambulance, 120. I did. Me: “There’s been an accident, we need an ambulance!” They: “Where are you?” Me: “Oops, I have no idea”. They: “So do you need an ambulance?” Me: “Urgh!” I hung up.
We tied a sweater above the bleeding gash in the man’s leg to stop the bleeding. Nobody in the passing cars knew either where we were (all tourists like us), or where was the closest hospital. Nobody pulled over to help out. There were some concrete buildings about 300 meters away, so we lifted the man into the back of the Jeep, and headed in that direction, hoping to find help. I sat next to the man, applying additional pressure above the bleeding gash on his leg. Before we left, we moved the bike off the road to the side (rain, overgrown bushes, limited visibility, there could easily be a second accident if we didn’t).
We reached the concrete buildings, there was a little shop there, and the shop owner’s daughter agreed to come with us and show us to the nearest hospital. For the first time, the man spoke to the people around him. I didn’t hear what he said, but they responded, “You can’t fully blame them, you know”.
We drove to the hospital (clinic), me still in the back of the car, clutching his leg. We drove into the front yard, the only people there being a woman and a man.
Time: 15 minutes after the accident (seemed like hours, though).
Medical staff rushing out to us: 0.
Weather: slight drizzle.
Mood: still freaked out.
Me and the shopkeeper’s daughter rushed into the clinic yelling “Doctor! Doctor!” In a minute or so, a man dressed like a doctor came out. Turned out that the clinic did not have an emergency care unit, but could send an ambulance to the nearest hospital (40 minute drive away)! The doctor was in no rush to look at the bleeding man. We waited for over 10 minutes in the front yard till the ambulance driver was located. Finally, the bleeding man was put on a stretcher and lifted into the back of the ambulance. All this time I was sitting in the back of the Jeep, holding the man’s hand, telling him everything was going to be all right. The man and woman in front of the hospital were standing idly by, no participation whatsoever. Assumption at the moment: idle bystanders.
To be continued…