I took a survey a while back about expat living in Southeast Asia and one of the questions was, "What is the best and worst part about your life abroad?" I had the same answer to both of these questions: my proximity to death. There's nothing like being surrounded by death to make you feel, well, alive. And in Asia there's no shortage of encounters and reminders of death. Whether it's passing a passed-on elderly person lying on their front porch for the neighbors to come pay respects to, or a dead body in the middle of the road post-motorcycle accident, the 'other side' is ever-present.
But until recently I hadn't had to contemplate my own death. Yea I have life insurance, but I'd always thought that was more for my family's/company's peace of mind than anything else. Lately, though, I've had a few encounters that I feel like have brought me closer to the edge of death than ever before, at least in my mind.
Doing work in landmine/UXO action, you constantly hear about casualties involving explosions, and they're often harrowing stories that impact you to the core, but rarely actually manifest in your reality. Even when I go on site visits those realities seem distant. But lately I've been challenged in that respect. I've picked up display bombs out of curiosity only later to realize that they hadn't been diffused. I've walked through rice paddies and corn fields where only days prior there had been an explosion that left someone maimed or dead. Don't get me wrong, the people I travel and work with only have my safety at heart and the chance of me actually being involved in an accident is nearly non-existent (knock on wood), but it's the closeness that alarms.
And then there was today. When I first moved to Thailand 3 years ago and began to learn how to drive a motorcycle I felt like I was going to kill myself and everyone on the road with every step on the pedal, but soon that too passed as I began to navigate the streets with more ease. Generally my fear of road death had subsided, until today.
On my way back from a site visit on the Thailand/Burma border I opted to hop into a pick-up truck, as I didn't want to inconvenience my friendly hosts who were driving me 3 hours out of the way of their home. The drive started out peacefully enough, with sweeping views of rice paddies.
Then I realized that the truck was driving a bit out of control, and looked through the window to see the driver pounding a bottle of what appeared to be liquor. Alright, so I'm driving through the plains in a slightly rambunctious truck being driven by a drunk man - no big deal. Think again. The landscape quickly changes from farmland to steep mountains and we're being hurled around cliffs at ungodly speeds.
OK, no big deal again, there are guard rails. Nope. The guard rails all seem to end at the most crucial points (hairpin curves, foggy sections, areas where there's a 300 ft drop, etc etc).
We whip around one of these hairpin curves going about 70 mph in a foggy section that clears just in time to see that there's one of these 300 ft drops that we're headed straight into. I try to stay calm, but all the Burmese people that I'm in the truck with start screaming at the top of their lungs in Burmese what I can only imagine translates into "HELP! WE'RE ABOUT TO DIE! BUDDHA WHERE ARE YOU WHEN WE NEED YOU?" and the like. I only know 3 words in Burmese - "lay peh thoke," which means "tea leaf salad." So I start screaming that in an attempt at solidarity. But at least I wasn't the one who was throwing up:
Miraculously we came out of that curve - and hundreds more - unscathed, and praise be to Jesus that I'm back home safely and here to write about it. Moral of the story, next time you're feeling a bit lifeless, trying skipping through a minefield* or hopping into a mountain-bound pick-up truck with a drunk driver* to give you some spunk and make you appreciate what you have.
xo
Cresa
*Please don't do this!
6 comments:
CRESA! It is so fun to read your blog post. First of all, I had no idea you were abroad--and that's just awesome. Secondly, your story is hysterical and only made funnier when I imagine you telling it in person. Thirdly, I am so glad you are alive. Fourth, there is a woman running for Mayor here in Baltimore. Her name is Catherine Pugh. Every time i see one of her *many* flyers, I think of you :). Thought you'd like to know!
Cresa, next time I see you, remind me to tell you about the motorbike accident I survived in Vietnam.
Hi Cresa,
Wow... What is your work there? Sounds very impressive and challenging!
Bill
My heart skipped several beats reading your harrowing narration. I'm so glad you're ok, Cresa.
I think you are absolutely right--nothing like being that close to death that makes you feel alive. I think I'll just try to imagine that feeling right now, however!
Cresa,
I enjoyed your article, and think that a part of the Expat experience that is hard to articulate is the evolution of our 'self' via the actions, or lack of actions...of the people who live in SE Asia.
I was sitting at my favorite restaurant on Charoen Nakorn, around Soi 35, and a young man, about 23...made his way to the middle of the road to cross. An instant later, he was a 23 year old corpse.
It was shocking and sad to have to see that. The reaction of the Thais then, within the hour and in the days that followed reinforced a lesson I see manifested in the tempo and religion of the region.
You live, you die ... things happen in between. Breath in, breath out, ...now. Not yesterday, not next week ... now.
As I said, it is hard to articulate and certainly beyond my range to explain the blend of pragmatism, optimism, fatalism and generosity that is part of everyday life here. I can only say I am grateful to be close to it.
I like your story, and am happy that life is up in your grill in a real and challenging way that you can feel in your core.
Each of us is born with "X" heartbeats. They tick away (X-1) -1-1-1-1-1-1- until X=0.
You know I spent years up racing that motorcycle in the canyons, with the reaper in my rear view.
I am happy now, to have learned to be more "Now" without standing in front of an open grave.
The curse of being socialized into a Western brain is our focus is an endless juxtaposition of the past and the future whose consideration obscures where we are at that moment.
Now, finally, I can hear my heart beat.
There is nothing we have control over, except, perhaps... the illusion we have control over things.
Mai Pen Rai Krap
Take care angel...
Oh Cresa, 6 weeks (2x a week) of journeys like that was more than enough for this lifetime.
You were so lucky to have such an empty linecar- mine were generally so packed I ended up squashed out on that far seat perched over the road, held to the vehicle by nothing but a chain. Nothing like a view of gravel passing at speed directly below, together with the malodourous stench of vomit, betel spit, cow dung and the odd child peeing off the back to make each journey truly special!
Lucky you- once is more than enough... much love, Heather xo
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