Accidents will happen

There are times when the things you know about Cambodia change from being merely statistics, facts and figures and become painful, real-life realities. This was one of those times.

Just 24 hours before, we had helped our friend Jun move from the office where he had been living for several months into the spare bedroom in our house. A 26-year-old easy-going Cambodian Christian guy, we jumped at the chance of opening our home to him and getting to know him better.

But no sooner had he moved in with us, than tragedy struck. He came back early from work the next morning and, sensing our puzzlement as to his unexpected return, iinformed us: "I can't go to work today because my brother is dead."

The words took some time to sink in, but after talking with him as he held back his tears, he explained what had happened. The night before, a large group from his church had been travelling back from Takeo Province, where they had met up with another church for a day of fellowship and worship. The group were travelling by mini-van with Jun's uncle and cousin trailing by moto.

As accidents go, it was an ugly one. In the chaos that is the roads of Cambodia, Jun's uncle swerved to avoid a car in front of him, only to collide head-on with a car coming the other way. The impact of the collision threw both him and his son off of their moto, with Jun's cousin flying over the car in front.

Jun's uncle was wearing a helmet. He landed hard but survived the crash. Jun's cousin was not so fortunute. He was not wearing a helmet and died of severe head injuries. At the age of just 16, Jomreang, the boy whom Jun called 'brother' because of their closeness, was now dead.

As Jun told us this story we were suddenly hit by the terrible reality of life in Cambodia. It can be cruelly snatched away from you at any point and, more so than in any other place we know, it is a possibility that too often becomes reality.

We were invited to attend the funeral at lunchtime the following day. It is customary to have a quick funeral and cremation in Cambodia, as there is no place to store a dead body, which soon becomes a problem in the heat and humidity of the day.

As we sat through the solemn yet heartfelt service at Tumneptuk Church on the outskirts of Phnom Penh, I found myself grivieng for Jomreang along with his family and friends. Although I had never met him, I was crying over his death.

I was crying for all of the others in Cambodia who, like Jomreang, have had their lives cut short by the harsh realities of everyday life in this country. I was crying for the parents who have to bury their own sons and daughters, unable to stop the car that hit them or cure the disease that killed them. I was crying and I wasn't really sure why, but I was crying for Cambodia.

Over two months have passed since that fateful day in December. Although Doctors initially feared he would have brain damage, Jun's uncle has now recovered completely and has returned to living a normal life - praise God! But for him and for Jun, the shock of losing Jomreang will never be forgotten.

With traffic accidents now the number one cause of death in Cambodia, the sad thing is that it probably won't be long before they will lose someone else close to them. It's just the way things are round here.