INDIA: Face of Death

Vizakhapatnum, India: DAY 2

March 22, 2000

Horrible!

Today, after loading onto the crowded bus that would take us to the village, I realized I forgot my camera. I ran back towards the building we were staying at, and along the way saw a woman lying in the red dust by the side of the road. Two dark, bare feet poked from under a bright red and green sari.

It's normal to see people doing anything along the side of a road, including sleeping, but her feet were an angle too unnatural for her to be resting. She was laying on her stomach.

I bent down to see if she needed help, and as I rolled her over, it was horrible.

Her silky black hair gave way to a bloody skeleton for a face. I didn't understand what I was seeing. Attached to the other side of her head was a folded mess of blood and skin; clearly in the middle of it was a nose.

I let go of her and fell back onto the seat of my pants. "HELP!" I yelled, barely able to get it out right the first time. "HELP ME!... SOMEBODY HELP THIS LADY!"

Dozens of people were passing by on the other side of the crowded street. Vehicles were flying past. One middle-aged Indian man came jogging over, looking more angry than concerned.

"She's DEAD. Hit by CAR," he said in typical Indian accent, waving his hands downward as he finished, "leave her alone."

I was sweating and worried and my mind was racing. "We need to call the police!" What a horrible sight, I thought. Poor, poor lady, I thought.

"What for?" he asked, genuinely curious why we should do that.

"She has a family. They need to know what happened!" I was now standing looking to flag down any official vehicle.

"No, no. They will find her. Look," he hastily grabbed some cement chunks lying nearby and put them around her body, as if to protect her from traffic and passersby. "They will come looking for her, and they will find her. Go on, go on your way. This happens regularly." He again waved his hands, this time for me to get going.

So I did. But with one last glimpse at this poor, unrecognizable lady. When will her family come to search for her? Will they look in the right place? Will they know this is her? How could they know for sure? What will it be like for them when they see her? How could such a horrible accident happen?

And just as I asked that question to myself, a medium-sized lorry (cargo truck) flew past me -- it's hard metal mirror nicking my ear. I crouched to the ground, my heart racing. That must have been what hit her.

So, quickly I moved to the other side of the road, forgot about my camera, and got back into our bus.

God, help that woman's family. God, thanks for keeping me safe so far. God, please help India. Let this trip make a difference.