A Trip, An Accident, A Crowd, the Police, and A Body While serving in Zambia, Africa during our second tour of service (1972-1977) I was returning from the capital city of Lusaka with Faith and the boys where we had gone for one of those rare shopping trips to purchase anything and everything “if you were fortunate enough to find anything”. The trip which was over 100 miles was always a bit hazardous as a good stretch of the journey was on a one lane tarmac road. This meant when you met a vehicle coming from the opposite direction both vehicles had to move over to share what precious little tarmac there was. Not the safest way to travel but we had gotten used to it by this time. We had come to the town of Monze which was like most small towns in Zambia; a few shops along the main drive; many people walking along the sides of the road; children scattering here and there, women with huge bundles or their heads and often you would see cows being herded along the way as well. I slowed my speed to accommodate these surroundings as well as stay within the speed limit; I was not in any way driving in an irresponsible manner. Suddenly, a child who was on the left side of the road darted out in front of me attempting to cross the road to his mother on the other side. It happened so fast I didn’t have time to apply my brakes until a split second before impact. I am sure that even that little bit of hitting my brakes saved the boy’s life. This was a very dangerous situation, just the kind of circumstance to draw a crowd quickly and it was not unheard of that “mob fever” takes over and the crowd turns on the driver in a fit of rage and then anything can happen. There were many people on the road that day and a crowd gathered immediately. The Lord helped us even unwittingly to do all the right things. I jumped from the car and instantly ran to the child as did Faith and we focused our entire attention and concern on him. I could see that the boy was not critically injured since he was squalling his head off! But he was bleeding from a laceration to his head. He was scared to death, of course but I think mostly because I was a white man. Children in Zambia were often taught to fear white people even to identifying us with evil spirits. As it turns out Monze had a hospital that was not far from where the accident had taken place. We didn’t have a lot of time to deliberate our actions; Faith picked the child up in her arms with no concern for her own safety or getting blood all over her she ran as quickly as she could down to the hospital, part of the crowd following close on her heels. I could only trust her to the Lord; it was essential for me to stay with the car until the police arrived. They were not inclined to be favorable to expatriates when it came to accidents. The Police station was just down the road almost across from the hospital. The most important reason for me to remain behind was our four boys in the car. As I said, mob violence is very unpredictable, you never know what can happen and I couldn’t leave our boys alone. While it was not my first concern it was only natural to have some concern for all the supplies that we had in the car just purchased in Lusaka. In Zambia in those days theft was just a part of the daily routine; I knew that if I left that car it would be emptied of all goods when I got back. The police did arrive very quickly (to this day I don’t know how they learned of the accident so quickly but Africa has their own communication system that astounds you.) and after assessing the situation had me drive my car to the Police station where paper work would have to be completed. I made sure before I pulled away that the police could see my tire skid tracks left on the road from hitting my brakes which was almost at the very point of impact. Important proof that I was not driving in a reckless manner but that the child had indeed ran out in front of me. This kind of thing had happened to others in Zambia many times. I didn’t feel very comfortable knowing that I could be charged by the Police and forced to go to court and pay a very heavy fine or even be incarcerated for a period of time. Although I had never heard of anyone in this kind of situation being incarcerated, we all were aware of the ill feelings many Africans had towards white people stemming from the days when they were a colonial state. But beyond this by tribal custom the parents of the injured child could charge me for injuring their child and would have a right to require me to pay them so much money even if it wasn’t my fault. Zambians, like everyone else in the world had learned to take advantage of these kinds of situations to line their pockets with an unexpected windfall. In these kinds of situations you can easily feel you have fallen down Alice’s rabbit hole in Wonderland and nothing is real around you. All these odd emotions come rushing in on you after the adrenalin in your system begins to slow down. How did this happen? How is Faith getting along at the hospital? How badly is that little boy hurt? How angry are the relatives” What are the police going to do with me? Why am I in this police station!? And, furthermore, WHY IS MISSIONARY PHILLIS RUSSELL HERE IN THIS POLICE STATION TOO! Roger and Phyllis Russell were our missionaries in Chababboma Mission. She looked at me in disbelief and I returned the same look. I really did fall down the rabbit hole. It turns out that a man had died at our Chababboma Mission Hospital two days prior to our meeting in the Police station. The regional hospital which was the Monze Hospital was responsible for transferring the dead from outstation missions to their home village for burial. Two days had come and gone and no one had come to collect the body and in that hot African sun in Gwembe Valley this is unacceptable. So Phyllis, the only one on the mission who could drive at that time as her husband Roger was away on business, had to take the body out of the valley to the police station in Monze. AND THERE WAS THE BODY! TIED TO THE TOP OF HER CAR! It was something right out of The Twilight Zone! The thought of Phyllis and I meeting in the Monze police station under these strange circumstances was almost too much to take in in one day. Any minute I expected to see a rabbit come running by exclaiming, “I’m Late, I’m Late, I’m late; I’m late for an important date!” Well, and the Lord be praised, the child was not serious injured as it turns out, and further I never heard from the Monze police after that day regarding any fines or court date. I concluded it’s best to let sleeping dogs lay. All four of my kids were in the car during this whole episodic day. They just sat and watched the whole thing like it was just a normal day. I was so proud of them. Still am.
Posted on: Sun, 22 Sep 2013 20:10:47 +0000