3 is the magic number

4/28/2008

Last Tuesday I was in my first moto accident. I was on my way home from a soccer tournament and was approximately two to three kilometers from my village when the moto driver or zed man, as they are known here, slipped on some loose gravel/sand maneuvering between the potholes. It was his first time on that particular route and was unfamiliar with the ins and outs of the road. I should have been a little more diligent in telling him the slow f*&% down. Alas, I did not and for that, the moto fell on my foot. Fortunately, there were no other motos or vehicles involved and we weren’t going that fast, so the driver and I only received some scrapes and bumps. You could literally see the bump grow on my foot though. The funny thing is that I think the zed man was more upset than I was, especially for dropping the fragile, white woman. Heh. I called Peace Corps Med Unit to notify them of the incident and to see if they felt I should go to the dispensaire (medical clinic), to which I was opposed. There was probably nothing they could have done there that I couldn’t do with my medical supplies in my house. So I went home.

The other funny thing or not so funny thing is that two days later my Homologue/Counterpart got into a head-on collision with his moto 50 feet from my house after dropping me off. Again, only some corporeal and mechanical cuts and scratches were suffered.

Then the very next day (this makes 3), some girl students at my middle school were cementing a new brick wall at the school and the wall collapsed on them. Also, nothing serious was inflicted, but they were taken to the hospital to get checked out.

All in all, a rather hazardous week au village.