Last week I had the worst injury of my life. I fell off of my bike going down a hill around a turn on my way to the Lucy’s house, which is about a thirty minute drive from my house. A lot of the roads that I was riding on are full of big rocks and erosion from all the rain, but the road I fell on did not look bad like these other ones. I blame the loose gravel that made me skid, but it was really my poor cycling ability and thinking I could handle it when I couldn’t.
I hit the ground hard. Upon impact I lost consciousness. When I came to after a moment the first thing I noticed was my prescription sunglasses were broken. I started to panic because of this. I had to find the lens that came out. I was scared thinking, “What am I going to do if I can’t see?” I remembered that I had my regular pair in my backpack so I pulled them out and put my broken sunglasses in the case my glasses were in. Before I could put my glasses on though I somehow wandered thirty feet away from my bike and stumbled into a ditch. After I was able to climb back out I once again had lost my glasses, this time the other pair. I put back on my sunglasses with one lens and found the good pair and replaced the broken pair. After putting my glasses on I realized that my vision was still blurry.
My panic turned into a realization at this point; maybe I have a concussion. I decided to sit down next to my bike and started to nurse my wounds. Although the original fall didn’t attract too much attention the second one drew a large crowd of about fifteen tea farmers. I couldn’t understand what they were saying, but I don’t think that is because of a lack of Kinyarwanda knowledge. I don’t think I would have understood them even if they had been speaking English. There was one word that one of the Good Samaritans did keep saying that I understood which was umutwe – head. The same guy directed one of the nearby tea farmers to bring me water and commanded me to drink it. I drank it without considering the consequences of drinking something that I didn’t know the condition of. I also poured it on my arm and leg to get some of the dirt out of my wounds. I sat there for about half an hour trying to recover before I decided that I didn’t want to continue to be stared at and talked about by the concerned locals so I gathered my things and got back on my bike with my vision still blurry after thanking the man and woman who helped me. I rode about fifty yards before my caretaker was shouting at me because I had left my keys. He came running after me to return them to me. Thinking about it now if I had seen this happen to someone else I would have called an ambulance and not let them get back on their bike and ride away, but the people who helped me didn’t think to do this although I don’t think this is because they wanted to let me hurt myself more.
The rest of the trip was full of more concerned locals. I had to push my bike up a massive hill, but I think I would have had to do this even if I hadn’t been injured. I acquired an entourage of two other cyclists who were transporting potatoes. They took it upon themselves to see to it that I made it to my destination. When we would come to the top of a hill after pushing for a long time they wouldn’t go without saying to me first, “Tugende Muzungu” – let’s go white man. As I rode past people and they saw me bleeding they covered their mouths and gasped “Imana We” – Oh God. There were some kids who kept asking me to let them ride my bike, but other than that everyone was showing great concern. I wasn’t in a lot of pain for the rest of the ride either, but I assume that’s because of the adrenalin.
I reached Lucy’s house and she was really surprised that I had ridden my bike to her house. She was laughing until she saw all of my wounds. Then she laughed some more (she isn’t malicious, I admit that I am a clown and when a clown gets hurt it’s funny. I also admit that I was trying to make light of the situation). She called me crazy for making that trip and she was right. I finally had the chance to evaluate the damage at this point. I still had a headache, but I was no longer dizzy or had blurred vision. I had large abrasions on my right arm, leg and on the right side of my back as well as a small wound on my left hand. My helmet had a big dent on the right side and the back had blown out and my shirt had a big hole in it. I cleaned all of my wounds in Lucy’s back yard using her spigot with running water that I am extremely jealous of and grateful for. Lucy helped me to clean the one on my back. She then played doctor and disinfected and bandaged my cuts.
I then called the Peace Corps doctor. The Peace Corps doctor is an amazing man. He cares a great deal for us, has an excellent sense of humor, and has a wonderful sounding French accent. He decided to drive up to meet me. While I was waiting I had the chance to watch The Lion King while Lucy made some lunch. I didn’t want to but she insisted that I sit down and did nothing. I called a few others to tell them what happened to me and to let them know that I would in Kigali for a little bit. The doctor made it to my house call and examined me. He removed my bandages and had me stand with my feet together. He asked me if I had been drinking to which I replied no. He also laughed a lot at my broken bicycle helmet and said it was a good thing that I was wearing it or that could have been my head. We left Lucy’s house with my bike in the back and drove to my house. The driver carried my bike up to my house and put it away for me while I packed a few things and changed clothes. I then had the most comfortable conditions that I have ever had on my way to Kigali in great discomfort. We made it to the Peace Corps office and we let the driver go home. The doctor then took me in his car to the hospital where I had a CT scan. The scan revealed that there wasn’t any bleeding in my brain and I had sinus congestion that the doctor was concerned about. Therefore there was not any permanent damage. I was very relieved that that one percent chance of me having permanent damage didn’t beat the house. I’m sure that I didn’t help my odds by getting back on my bike so soon after falling off of it.
Next he drove me back to the Peace Corps office and gave me pain killers. I then limped down around the building to the brand new Peace Corps hostel the Case de Passage. Case de Passage is supposed to be pronounced in a French way of speaking like Cause de Pa-sauge, but I like to call it The Case of Passage, case – like a case of beer, of, passage – like you have gained entry or moving from one point to another. Either way you say it I was really grateful that they had put this together for us because I went straight to bed. At least I tried to. I only got about two hours of sleep. I didn’t get any more sleep the next day either but I did stay four nights so on the third and fourth nights I slept fairly well. The next day I was able to get my sunglasses fixed and some drugs for my sinus congestion.
I told the doctor that I am happy that this happened to me here and not in America. I have the best healthcare of my life right now. I told the doctor that I thought it would have cost me $2000 in America and he was saying that would be outragous, but after thinking more about it, an ambulance, a house call, a CT scan, transporting my bike, a bedroom for four nights, getting my glasses repaired, and drugs. I think the bill would be closer to $15000. Regardless of the crazy prices of healthcare in America, the doctor spent about nine hours with me in two days and no bill, at least not made out to me. When I called him I told him that I wanted to wait to come in on Friday, but I am really happy that he came and got me because those days that I would have stayed at my site would have been exceedingly painful. There is no way I could have even made it to work let alone taught anything.
The following days were interesting for me. There were people coming in and out of the Case, but I was there with Brittney who was changing sites and Emit who just extended for a third year and his site wasn’t ready yet either for the whole time. We built a puzzle and ate ice cream and Chinese food. I saw a lot of my friends that I was very happy to see and I led bible study on Saturday too. Most of the people who came in were there to run a marathon and a few to watch it. There was a carbo-loading dinner on Saturday at the administrative officer’s house that I did what I could to help prepare for it. Although this sounds like it would be a lot of fun, when I was in large groups I had a hard time participating in the conversation for very long. I felt distant because the only thing I could think to talk to people about was my injury. My usual wit wasn’t anywhere to be found and I was probably the most boring person to hang out with this last week. I think there are many reasons that I may have been like this, but I know that the pain I was in didn’t help my social skills. I kept getting asked why I was being quiet. I wanted to be alone, but I didn’t want to admit that I wanted that. I care so much about what people think of me and I never want to miss anything which is why you often see me still there at the end of the party even if I am not having fun. I hated feeling this way and when I finally talked to someone on Saturday night about it I cried. There were other emotions that went into my weeping, but I feel like this was building up in me for a while and it felt great to finally release it.
Sunday was a lot better because I got to cheer on everyone running in the marathon. I kinda felt like a party crasher being there with all of the people who were supposed to be there, which is part of the reason I left for home that evening instead of staying another night even though my friends were trying to convince me to stay. The other reason is I missed Mulindi. It really feels like home now. Pittsburgh will always be home, but I feel very connected to Mulindi now.
When I made it back home Devin was there and she asked to see my wounds and we talked about my week. I also received a facebook message from my best friend here saying that he was worried about me. I showed up to school the next morning and was welcomed by the Secretary who I haven’t had much of a relationship with. She hugged me and asked me if I had recovered. I told her yes and she said “Imana twishimwe ntakibazo” – Praise God it wasn’t serious. The headmaster greeted me and he asked how I had been and to see my wounds. The other teachers were all happy that I have returned especially the two that I talk to the most and the librarian. I displayed some of my wounds to my classes to the same gasps that I had received nearly a week ago when they were fresh. I sat in my usual silence when others were speaking Kinyarwanda faster than I can follow and thought to myself how sad I would be if my accident had been serious and I did have to leave. I felt self-centered and apathetic towards everything else. I get scared at the thought of if it was serious then what would I become? Would I be totally self-absorbed and never care what others are going through? There were so many people that supported me through this and I am grateful to every one of them. They displayed selfless love for me, from the guy yelling umutwe to the teacher who asked for my phone number because he would have tried to call me if he had had it.
I am really just happy that this is over. I have other more important things to worry about. Now I can get back to teaching and back to being myself. As long as something like this doesn’t happen again I will be fine, but realistically something to this scale could happen any time I leave my house.
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