Sunday, November 5th, 2017, around 4:30pm, I was the first to the scene of a kombi (van) accident.
Two vans packed with 20 racers drove along the breathtaking mountain road at the end of our month in Lesotho. We came around a curve in the road to meet what would become the hardest few hours of my life. A demolished kombi sat empty in the road blocking both lanes of traffic, its previous occupants strewn across the pavement. The vehicle appeared to have run off the road and smashed into the cliff wall, tearing the carriage apart.
Another van of locals pulled up the same time we did. They jumped out and began taking vitals of the victims. A handful of my squad-mates leapt from our van, determined to pray and offer aid if they could. I was frozen in fear. My vision felt unreal and there was a ringing in my ears. I slowly made my way to help.
As soon as I rounded the front of the van, I saw the first victim. I knew he was dead immediately.
I hadn’t realized people were dead.
I fled back to the van. Everything felt like a haze. Then I remembered my first aid kit. I knew I needed to help. I climbed over the creaky seats to back of the van and grabbed my backpack. After rummaging through it for a few seconds, I pulled out the first aid kit. It helped very little. The only things I could find of use were some gloves, alcohol wipes, and gauze. But everything mattered.
I swallowed my fear. I prayed. And I ran over to the scene.
It was worse than I thought.
When I walked over, I handed my gloves to two locals helping a man covered with blood into the back of a truck to take him to the hospital, his body limp. Because of all the blood, I could not even tell what this man’s wounds were.
We had to proceed with caution. Lesotho is the second highest HIV/AIDS country in the world. Only those with gloves attended the more serious injuries of the wounded.
As I stood, assessing the situation, Kim (who, by the way, was a hero in all this) let me know that there might be some people missing. They were not sure if the kombi was full or not, but if it was, there were two people missing. I gave my first aid kit to Kim, and then Mily and I climbed over to the cliff edge searching for bodies. In the end, we had to come to the conclusion that the kombi must not have been full, so we returned to help at the accident.
When I arrived, Maddie and Ally were wrapping a woman’s head, and Abby was leaning over her face, talking to her to keep here awake. They had the people they needed to help this woman. So I moved on.
Ana showed up with gloves on and first aid in hand. We both rushed to a woman laying in the middle of the road. At first we thought she was dead, but then noticed a small rise and fall of her chest. She had a gash on her head so Ana held a gauze pad to her temple. Her other wounds included a broken wrist and foot, as well as probably numerous internal injuries.
Sitting there, I glanced over my shoulder at a horrifying sight: the dead. There were people under the kombi, a man near the ditch, and perhaps the worst of all, a woman I saw who’s injuries were so bad I shall not describe them here. I looked for one second too long and now her visage will forever live in my memory.
I turned away.
The woman we were helping kept telling us how tired she was and that she just wanted to go to sleep. We told her she had to keep her eyes open. I noticed glass all over her face and in her eyes. I used a cloth to clear the debris from here eyes and out of her skin so that she could see.
Ana and I repeated the same conversation with this woman over and over again.
“I’m tired”
“We know. Stay awake. Keep your eyes open.”
“For how long?”
“Until you get to a doctor.”
We went through this at least 10 times. To keep her attention, we sang to her— worship songs. As we sat amidst the the glass, car wreckage, and carnage singing, I smiled. The smile lasted for only a second, but I knew God was there.
The woman cried out that her feet hurt. I began to pray— I prayed that God would relieve her pain, let her know what was happening, but that she would not fear. She could not speak very good English, but it seemed as if the pain in her feet subsided if even just a little bit.
It was time to take her to the hospital. The truck was back to take away the last of the living victims. Kim and one of the locals had already helped a woman out of the ditch and into the pickup. Everything I had been taught warned me against moving someone in this condition, but there was no ambulance coming. We had to get her to help. I was handed a cloth to protect my hands as a group of us lifted her, as carefully as we could, into the truck. While transporting her to the vehicle, the woman’s hair, drenched in blood, brushed against my arms.
After loading her up, I stepped out of the way for Abby and a few others to lift the last woman in. Her spine was broken and she was crying out in pain. I turned around. I looked both at the scene of the dead and the crumpled kombi as well as down at my now bloodied arms. Blake could see I was in shock. He rushed over and called for someone to come wash my arms. As soon an I had scrubbed my arms with water, alcohol wipes, and hand sanitizer, Blake told me I needed to go back to our vans and not look back at the wreck.
7 dead. 6 alive and transported to hospital.
I’m trying to be positive, but there is no way all 6 of those people survived. Most of them were probably taking their last breaths as we shut the tailgate and watched them drive away.
Bella had spent almost this whole time calling over 30 phone numbers of police stations and hospitals trying to get someone to help us. Every one of them said no except for one. By the time the officials arrived, all the living had been taken away. All they could do was drag the corpses and kombi out of the road and start directing traffic.
While we waited for the road to clear, the teams sat on the side of the road and processed the last hour or so of our lives. I thought I was okay. I wasn’t grossed out by the carnage, but I was more heartbroken about all those people.
I stood, looking at the sunset over the mountains, and began to weep. Most of us were crying now. We hugged, we talked, and we prayed. That’s all we could do.
I didn’t question God’s goodness, for I think that God was being good by bringing a group of strong Christians with first aid kits to the scene of the accident for these people.
It was hard to see if we were actually making a difference with our mediocre medical supplies and trembling hands, but for many of the survivors, we might have kept them alive. We prayed. Oh God we prayed! Those who were conscious heard us calling on the name of Jesus and the locals looking on pulled out there phones and videoed us while Ana and I were singing to the woman with the head wound. Maybe, just maybe, someone will come to the Lord through this.
I was grasping to find good in this, and in the end, there might not be any good affecting me personally, but we were able to show goodness to those in need.
{It is now 3 weeks after the accident, and I have been able to fully recover from any trauma of the situation. God helped me process everything in a healthy way with my leaders and teammates. The memory of the situation does not bring me pain anymore. Some of my squad-mates are taking advantage of a counselor here in India. Prayers are still appreciated for the mental health of everyone involved and for the victims of the accident.}
