Festina Lente

Today, for the first time in my life, in person, I saw a dead body. I was on a combi on my way back from Chiclayo, the capital city in my department, about 20 minutes south of Tucume. The components unveiled themselves one by one; first, I saw a small crowd of people coupled with whisperings in Spanish from the people sitting to my left and right. Next, a motorcycle on its side along the road. Then, as if in slow motion, I saw the feet, legs, body, arms and finally the head of the unfortunate rider lying on the ground. As we rode past I surveyed the scene a bit better and it appears he must have collided with either the truck or the car that were also parked alongside the road though those had no damage. I’ll never forget how much blood there was, or how red it was. Glowing red – as if it were part of a movie. Between the sights, the stuffy combi, the combination smells of people who probably hadn’t showered in a few days and the reek of the produce that had been brought on board, it took everything in me to keep my food down. I picked up bits and pieces of conversation from there on out. People discussed what we had seen for another few kilometers and then the subject changed.

Sometime within the last year I was out to lunch with a friend of a friend who had spent a significant amount of time over the last few years living in the middle east. I remember little of the situation – where we were eating or who the friend even was – but I remember the girl we were eating with describing how quickly death became a part of life. I remember her talking about becoming comfortable with walking out of her house every morning facing the distinct and likely possibility that day would be her last, how that feeling became almost routine. When I got home today and was recounting to my host dad what I had seen, he simply shook his head and remarked how unfortunate that accidents like that are common on the Peruvian highways. I can’t say that statement surprised me, given how insane the driving is here. Nevertheless, I felt so strangely alone in that packed combi the rest of the ride and for the rest of the evening. I was in such shock and was wondering why other people’s jaws hadn’t dropped.

So, the obvious subsequent paragraph would relate the above to a place that starts with an “I” and ends in a “raq”, though given my current function, I will sidestep that discussion for now and just say that it is amazing what the human mind can accustom itself to given enough time and certain circumstances, and how alarming are the implications of what it means when death becomes commonplace. Will the dozen or so drivers who happened to pass by within a short time and happened to see the aftermath drive any differently tomorrow? Probably not, but perhaps I can always hope for one or two out of the twelve.