December 8, Saturday, 2012.
From the time I figured out how to contact my boys, and
prior to the past two weeks, I spoke with Che at least once a week. However, the last I heard from him was about
the 24th of November, when he commented that it was the last day of
regular classes, as he looked forward to study week and exams. The last I heard from Xian was November
11. I get very concerned about them both
when I don’t hear from Che weekly, and Xian bimonthly. Twice in this past week, therefore, I have
had bad dreams, yes, I would say nightmares, about their safely. I dreamt that Xian was in prison on a drug
charge, and I was completely unable to find his exact whereabouts, let alone be
of any assistance to him. He was either in
China, the Middle East, or Africa. Che,
on the other hand, had been involved in a traffic accident and appeared in the
dream as a bloodied broken mess.
Today I was again called to question the existence of God,
and certainly to believe in a cosmic force.
My phone battery was low on Friday morning, and in a non-routine action
I took my charger to work and at the end of the day, forgot it there. Although it may have held sufficient charge
over the weekend, I know I will want to use it tomorrow, Sunday, and decided
that after shopping at Times Grocery and Skyways Bakery on Shanghai Lu, I would
take a route home via the school to get the charger. I missed a turn and cycled an extra few
minutes to get back to Gulou Metro station and Beijing Dong Lu where the school
is located. At Gulou, I stopped to buy a
red bean coconut tea and drank it in the park there, chatting with a man and
his dog. I picked up the charger, and
headed home. At the intersection a small
group of people had gathered, and a person was prostrate with her left arm
hooked over the rear view mirror of her downed motorcycle. I was going to ride on by; I actually thought
she was dead. But I did stop and noticed
that she was breathing heavily, though unconscious.
I stood by my bicycle for about 3-4 minutes,
from about 4:27, but noticed no one on a
phone and no one was attending to her, though someone did release her arm from
the mirror. And I did see a young man
who was there when I arrived on a phone.
As she regained consciousness, she attempted to roll over, and moaned in
pain. At that point, I could not stop
myself from going to her. I began
speaking to her soothingly, and stroking her face, I put slight pressure on her
hip to help her understand she should not move.
She began to shiver slightly and I knew she was going into shock. I removed my car coat length ski jacket, and
covered her. I continued to talk to her
and to stroke her face, and hold her hand.
Suddenly, I remembered that babies relax when you massage their bellies,
and knowing the Chinese love massages, I lightly massaged her belly. At about 4:50, the police finally arrived,
parking nearly a block away, and ambling to the accident scene.
Before going to her aid at all,
their concern was solely to establish whether there was a witness, and what had
happened. The young man who had been on
the telephone described the accident. I
understood from his hand motions that she had been cut off by another biker
(e-bike or motorcycle), whose bike had hooked her mirror and knocked her over. This bike was nowhere to be seen. He had simply carried on his merry way, no
doubt speeding up. The police radioed
for an ambulance and it arrived at a couple of minutes past 5:00. The poor woman had been on the cold pavement
for 35 minutes. She faded in and out of
consciousness. The police attempted to
get her name and she tried to tell them who to call, but she was not able to do
that. They must have told her help was
coming, and she again lost consciousness.
The police officer thanked me and motioned for me to move away just
before the ambulance came. At that
point, the young man took off his jacket and replaced mine with his. I returned to my bike, but stayed until the
ambulance attendants loaded her. When
they arrived they removed his jacket, and without doing any sort of assessment,
put the sandwich board around her, and loaded her.
All the while I was trying to comfort
her, I kept glancing back at my bike to assure it stayed put, together with my
groceries. After a couple of minutes of
being with her, I started hearing “lau wei ..., lau wei ...” and occasionally, “nan
wei”, as people noted the old foreigner providing care, and recognized that I
was probably “lau shir” (teacher) from the sweatshirt I was wearing, a part of
my school’s casual uniform. As he
replaced my jacket with his, the young man bowed his thanks with the “prayer
gesture” of respect that people here use; before I left the police officer came
to me and said “thank you”, and a couple of other bystanders also came directly
to me, making the same motion and saying “thank you” or “xi xi nie” (thank you
very much). As I stood by my bike,
waiting for the ambulance to arrive, many of the bystanders gave me a thumbs
up, and expressed their strong approval.
Their gratitude brought tears to my eyes, as sometimes and in some ways,
foreigners are thought to be taking advantage of good times in China, and not
``giving back``. I am so glad I learned
the other day the difference between `bu ka chi`` (don`t be so polite) and
``mei si`` (it`s nothing, really``). I
had multiple occasions to repeat `mei si`, ``mei si``. I almost wish I had been wearing a Canadian
flag!
Later, though, my student
explained that too often, people giving unsolicited aid in such situations, end
up the brunt of reprimand and interrogation.
He told me the gap between the rich and the poor has become very great
in China, and people are said to fake accidents in order to solicit payments
from an alleged perpetrator. I have
heard of this several times. I explained
our ``good Samaritan`` or ``duty to rescue`` principle in law. I am glad I went to her aid. I think I provided the comfort she
needed. But how did I come to be there,
at that place, at that time?
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