Corpse

Yesterday I saw a dead man in Shanghai. On the street just a block away from my apartment. Minutes before I drove past in our minivan, he'd been knocked from his scooter by a car. The scooter was mangled...almost unrecognizable. Just a bunch of metal pieces scrambled on the road. Everything but the handlebars...I don't know where they'd landed.

The car that had hit the man must have been flying. But all cars here fly. Driving is a relatively new phenomenon in China and few do it well, consciously, or with care. There is no right of way for pedestrians and they (we) are at the mercy of every wheeled vehicle in Shanghai. No one wears a seat belt, uses a car seat for a child, or dons a helmet. People drive backwards on the highway when they've missed an exit, zigzag between lanes as if they don't exist, pull over for a piss when there's no shoulder, and drive at Indy 500 speeds. It is a ridiculous free-for-all.

The police had gotten to the scene and were trying to direct traffic. But everyone was slowing for a look at the corpse--cars, buses, scooters, bicycles, and pedestrians. All gawking and clogging up the already clogged-up road.

When we first saw the man, my driver Mr. C made a small noise in his throat and caught my eye in the rear-view mirror. Though I suspect he's used to seeing this kind of thing, he knows I never will be.

The dead man?

He looked rather peaceful despite the chaos around him. He was lying on his back with his left hand on his chest and his right arm stretched straight out as if saying, "Go that way."

"Why don't they cover him?" I said in English. Then to Mr. C, "Youguai." Turn right. I didn't want to pass any closer to the man than we had to. The guy had enough of an audience.

Comments

[Greg L.]

While living in Morocco, a country in which I never drove, I noticed a kind of acceptance about one's fate, doomed or not. And nowhere was this more typified than a taxi entering a roundabout or an intersection out in the country. With no lanes drawn on the roads or traffic signals, drivers simply barrel into the mix like electrons joining the cloud, hopefully not finding all possible spots occupied and skipping off the Valence shells. I swear some cabbies would say "Allahu Akbar" as they jumped in. As in 'God will sort this out'. 'Or not'.
When I arrived I was 23 and thought this was an indicator of how life was lived in places where the populace was admirably more enlightened, living closer to truth. Then, a few months in I was taking a bus out to the southern side of the Atlas mountains and attempting to take the guardrail-less road in stride, along with the high rate of speed and blind corners. God will save me. I'm living without a net, just like all these Moms and children traveling back to their remote homes.
And there at the bottom of the beautiful cliff in the long-dry riverbed was a burnt out shell of a bus.

[www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=591447929]

As a fellow Shanghai resident, I sadly emphasize that Kristin is not exaggerating the lack of safety and disregard for human life on the streets here. I am relieved that, during my 2 1/2 year stay, I have never witnessed a fatal accident. I hope I never do.

[Kristin Bair O'Keeffe]

Hey Greg, Beautiful description. Funny how our perceptions change, isn't it?

And to my fellow Shanghai-er...stay safe on the streets. Eyes and ears open!