It was the beginning of the weekend, and I had a wedding party to attend that evening. The warm weather earlier in the day seductively encouraged the indulgence of an afternoon siesta, into which I blissfully sank. It was perhaps when I had neared the maximum state of slumber that I found myself being vigorously shaken out of my stupor.
Peering through blank eyes and an equally befuddled frame of mind, I could make out my wife’s hovering presence urging me out of my shattered nap with words that spoke volumes for the urgency: “Accident, children killed!” Those words quickly cleared the cobwebs coursing agitatedly through my body, and I forced myself into a state of semi-consciousness. I am a heavy sleeper by nature, and only those who share a similar affliction can relate to my state of mind at that moment. My wife rushed over to the balcony looking over a residential street with me following closely behind.
As I looked out, I could see the remnants of a twisted vehicle across the center median on the road, glass and vehicle parts strewn about, and a crowd gathering. I had a clear view of the accident site but couldn’t make out any fatalities from my observation point. Some kids were hovering nervously about the vehicle, and other than the fast-gathering crowd, there was no indication that anyone indeed had been injured or killed.
“What happened?” I asked my wife. The screeching of metal and of burning rubber that sounded like a 747 landing prompted her to peer out of the window as a rapidly moving car first side-swiped a construction site knocking down several barriers, and then losing control went over the median and awkwardly came to rest. She could make out some young kids inside the car, and fearing for the worst rushed quickly to wake me up to help.
Satisfied that there were indeed no casualties and the situation was being ably managed by a crowd that had grown to fifty or more, I crawled back into bed to regain what I could of my disturbed sleep. Later that evening, the story got around that a bunch of kids barely into their teens had taken off for a joyride, and while they narrowly missed an elderly gentleman out for an early evening stroll on the quiet street, they had managed to create enough mayhem but fortunately without killing themselves or anyone else. The driver was no more than 14 years old, and with his parents out of town, he decided to party.
On my way to the wedding on the other side of town, I was conscious of traffic violations all around me. There were even instances of these violations taking place in full sight of traffic cops, but with so much traffic on the road on a weekend night, I figured they were too powerless to be a deterrent. As I drove gingerly among the reckless road warriors, I surmised that there are several factors that have earned us the distinction of having one of the highest road fatality rates around the world. Not one party or agency is to take the full blame.
Lack of driver education in our schools is one. While the Ministry of Education puffs and swells its chest about the number of yearly graduates, little thought is given to proactive education that should include drivers’ education among other subjects. A high school graduate who has not mastered the skills and responsibilities of taking a machine on the road is a potential killer.
The inefficiency of our traffic police stems from the lack of a proper and well-run police academy. The few cops I had spoken to took the job because there were no other jobs, or else they liked wearing a uniform or riding a motorbike. With very little training, these individuals are more an ornament on our roads than an effective enforcement machine.
Licensing drivers is another matter. It is not strictly enforced and often people with connections can obtain a driver’s license without having to prove their road skills. And with no formal driving schools, one can just imagine the trials ahead. A friend once told me that at any given time there would be 42 different nationalities driving on our roads. And while I have not statistically been able to challenge him on that figure, I do give his theory some credence. Look around your fellow-drivers and indeed you will see citizens from across the planet, each with his driving perceptions and road sense idiosyncrasies.
And finally, the parents have to shoulder the blame and a large portion of it. Those who shower their teenage kids with Formula-1 type vehicles cannot really expect that testosterone-laden boys will drive safely and carefully, now would they? How many deaths have parents directly contributed to, and specifically of their own offspring is a morbid statistic that may be of interest to some.
Discipline is the vehicle and strict enforcement is the key. It is time to reconsider the option of consenting to another proven statistic: That women make for safer drivers.
