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The following is an account of my accident in Laos. This is a considerable jump ahead from the last post, but I thought it was notable enough to warrant an up-to-date entry. Please be assured that I as I write this I am perfectly alright. Also, when reading my account of the health services in Laos, please keep in mind that Laos is one of the poorest countries in the world. Despite this poverty, the Laotian government (specifically the tourism authorities) provided much needed and appreciated help as soon as they were aware of the accident.

There were seven of us traveling from Luang Namtha to Nong Khiaw. From having trekked together in the previous days, we had already developed a solid rapport and camaraderie. Joking around and poking fun at our respective foibles, we looked forward to additional days of trekking together. Unbeknownst to us, a car accident would throw all of us into a situation requiring considerable degrees of luck and resourcefulness. So I’ll start my tale from the beginning.

Jon and I met Joanne and April on the Gibbon Experience, a famous 3 day trek and ziplining adventure deserving of its own post. Joanne, an Irish social worker, and April, an American accountant, were both on the tail ends of their own incredible around-the-world odysseys. Rejecting the accountant stereotype, April, a mountaineer and avowed outdoors enthusiast, allowing her to handle a surprising number of situations. I would find myself thanking God for April’s acumen in a few days.

During the Gibbon experience, April and Joanne told me of their plans to continue trekking in Northern Laos, at a town called Luang Namtha. Since Jon didn’t suffer from my trekking bug, he decided to continue on toward Vang Vieng, while I joined the girls. The three of us enjoyed 2 days of fabulous trekking through jungle with stopovers in remote villages. During the trek, we picked up some other travelers. Adham, an Englishman still deciding his future career, Hannah, a Finnish butterfly catcher (sort of), and Lucas and Axelle, two French architects working in Shanghai. As it happened, all seven of us shared plans for our next destination, a small town called Nong Khiaw.

So, the morning after our trek we all piled onto the local bus. While waiting we watched locals tie a scooter onto the bus roof and pile canvas sacs of banana leaves onto the aisles. Unfortunately, the bus didn’t make it all the way to Nong Khiaw, meaning we would have to charter a songthaew for the remaining 30 minute ride. For those unfamiliar with Thailand and Laos, songthaews are a common means of public transportation. Like many forms of transportation here, these vehicles would never be road-legal back home. Simply put, they’re pickup trucks equipped with two rows of benches on either side of the bed for passengers. For the most part, they’re just another colourful feature of traveling in SE Asia, something to mention back at home. Our particular songthaew was roofed, a crucial feature that probably saved us from more serious injury.

Ironically, as we were traveling in the songthaew, Adham and I admired the quality of the road. Soon after, I was fantasizing about the cup of coffee I was going to destroy upon arriving in Nong Khiaw. Then we crashed. Rolled over to be precise, but this is hearsay because I have no recollection of the crash. The crash violently knocked me out as my head banged against the metal carriage.

Out of everybody, Adham recollects the crash itself in the best detail. He remembers a sudden horrible bang and then being tumble dried around the songthaew carriage, rolling into metal and people. If the vehicle wasn’t roofed, we would have all been thrown from the truck, a sobering prospect. When the vehicle finished rolling, Adham found himself sprawled next to me. He managed to pull himself out of the wreck, where some Laotian bystanders placed him in a chair.

Of all of us, April came out of the accident essentially unscathed. A fortuitous event, as quite honestly she was the best equipped to deal with the pandemonium that followed. For the rest of us, Joanne suffered a broken collarbone and head blows, Adham very painfully banged up his shoulder with a helping of head blows, Hannah a major head blow and serious lacerations and contusions over her body, and Axel had several lacerations. Lucas came out the worst, breaking his ankle in an open fracture deep enough to see bone and gore. As for me, April and Adham found me sprawled inside the wreckage with blood pouring out of my head and moaning unintelligibly. I must have momentarily lost motor abilities, as my attempts to get up pathetically failed. April says she’ll never get that image out of her head, and I don’t envy her the memory.

I also don’t envy the task presented to April. Here were 6 injured travelers, some of them quite seriously, reeling from a rollover in rural Laos. The two Laotian drivers, while fine physically, were in hysterics and offered no help. Most of the bystanders were more interested in chattering amongst themselves or helping the drivers than providing aid to us. Not to mention that April had to babysit me, whose contribution to the situation was to add to the chaos. You see, I eventually gained my motor faculties but not my senses, and I kept aimlessly wandering around the crash site despite Aprils repeated exhortations to, “SIT!”

Somehow April organized transport to the local clinic and placed Lucas and Adham lying down onto its bed. Everyone else piled in except me. At this point, I finally came to. Unfortunately, I had hit my head so hard that I temporarily lost my memories of the last few days. I had no idea who the people around me were, let alone why I was holding a towel to my head to staunch a painful head blow. In its weakened state, the only thing my mind could grasp was that I had a friend named Jon. This is not surprising that he popped up first in my head, as for the last few months we’ve been joined at the hip.

Confusedly, I asked April who she was and where we were. With the patience of an angel she told me for what must have been the hundredth time that we had been in an accident. Then, forgetting we had separated earlier in Laos, I said, “I was traveling with my friend Jon. Is he ok? We need to make sure we get him out of the accident too.” She assured me Jon was ok and ordered me into the waiting truck. She didn’t neglect to add a, “Now!”, God love her.

I still don’t know how April managed to get us all organized and on our way to the local clinic. She did this despite the absolutely chaotic Laotian bystanders, the hostile driver’s wife, and very severe language barriers. She even lugged all our bags onto the truck, not forgetting one sack.

Of the accident aftermath, my memory is still spotty. I remember looking at the twisted wreckage in the ditch with comical bewilderment, being whisked onto the truck, and then my memory leaves me once again. The next thing I remember is mutely sitting in the truck bed staring at my fellow travelers in dumb incomprehension. They were all unfamiliar to me, and I was unable to pinpoint exactly where I was, except for somewhere in Laos. It was an unnerving feeling.

As soon as we arrived at the clinic, numerous Laotians converged on our truck. Unfortunately, none of them seemed to be medical staff, and like the bystanders of before they seemed content to lean against the truck, chat amongst themselves, stare at us, and occasionally point out one of our particularly notable wounds. Adham appealed for water, and thankfully some kind Laotian bystander arrived with some bottles. The act is even more kind when considering that a bottle of water is a comparatively expensive purchase for the average Laotian.

Next to me sat Hannah, who suffered a similar degree of memory loss. Through some painfully slow questioning, we began to piece together the events of the last few days. It was a curious feeling to have your memories and faculties slowly return and the relief was overpowering at times. I can compare it to waking from a particularly lucid dream. Except I awoke to pandemonium instead of a warm comfy bed. And it was obvious that the scene I awoke to could use another helpful body instead of the jabbering idiot I was minutes ago. So I set to making Adham comfortable and feeding him water, as he was forced to lay prone on his back due to the pain all over his body.

Meanwhile, April set about improving our situation. She managed to find an English-speaking nurse who promptly called an English-speaking doctor. She also enlisted the aid of some medical staff in getting Joanne transferred out of the truck and onto a bed. Unfortunately, the remainder of the staff didn’t seem inclined to help the rest of us, leaving Lucas pale and sweaty with his gore spilling out of his ankle and Adham immobilized and worried sick about spinal injuries lying on the metal floor of the truck bed. Looking back, I don’t think I’ll ever understand the reaction of most of the clinic staff, standing off to the side, joking around with each other, and refusing to provide aid in a situation clearly requiring help.

Still feeling useless, I set about rearranging our living quarters in the truck. I believe I was subject to some of the chuckling commentary of our audience. With my bloodly towel wrapped around my head like a turban, my shirt ripped to shreds in the back revealing a nasty gash, and pieces of skin flapping off my left heal, I must have been a curious site. When April noticed me off the truck moving bags around, I believe the memories of me in the wreckage were still fresh in her mind. “Sit!” she commanded. Since my answer came in words and not moans, she allowed me my token attempts to help the situation.

After 15 minutes, the English-speaking doctor arrived. He told us our best bet was to make our way to Luang Prabang hospital, where they had appropriate facilities to deal with our injuries. He offered the use of one of their ambulances, but it was more of a minivan, inappropriate for Joanne, Adham, and Lucas, who needed to be left lying down. April wisely decided it was best to use the truck we were already in. The driver asked for 800,000 kip for a fee, and luckily we were able to scrounge together that amount. As a parting gift, the doctor gave us all packages of electrolytes to help restore us as much as possible.

As the two most severe head-blow victims, Hannah and I sat in the front under severe instructions to keep ourselves awake. We had 2.5 hours of half-hearted inquiries such as, “So………..what do you plan to do after you’re done travelling?” Even so, we were happy and lucky to be in the front. The poor souls in the metal bed of the truck had to endure a long and bumpy ride. Lucas, for his part, had to continually brace himself amid all the bumps to avoid further aggravating his nasty break. But we were on our way toward help, toward the Lao-Chinese Friendship Hospital in Luang Prabang.

Story continues in Part 2

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