|The ageless story of the Good Samaritan found in the Bible
We all know, or have heard at some time or another the story of the “Good Samaritan”.
In a nutshell (and Wikipedia expounds on it here), a man got beaten and robbed by thieves and was left for dead. He was a Jew.
Now, two people who should’ve helped; one a Jewish Rabbi and the other a Priest, simply ignored him. The important context of this story is that Jews and Samaritans were enemies, as Jews saw the Samaritans as scum basically, and looked down upon them. You can remember the story of the Woman at the Well as she asked Jesus “how is it that you a Jew are talking to me a Samaritan?”
But, as the name of the Parable suggests, a Good Samaritan was the one who stopped to check out this badly injured man and lent a helping hand. Matter of fact, he did way more. He took him to safety, and paid someone to tend to the man. That’s love; that’s being like Jesus.
Now to my story.
On my way to work today (May 17, 2013), I was properly late; as Chan, my sister, had to go into town for her CSEC exam but wasn’t feeling well, so le parents went ahead to work and such, and I had to wait on her to take her into town. On the way, I witnessed something horrific.
I was on the Portmore toll road when I saw it. One four wheeled metal composite smashed into another, causing one to make a complete 180 degree turn, which left it facing the opposite direction of all the other 4 wheeled composites heading that way. Yes, I could’ve said “cars” but that’s too easy.
I exclaimed “My God! Chan you si dat! I just saw it happen enuh!” and right away I was very concerned. Upon reaching the site of the accident, I realized the woman who ran into the back of the man’s vehicle (which I came to understand was either parked or had come to a complete stop–which I’m guessing the lady didn’t notice and thus the accident), she was okay; airbags and all. But the man? He was not moving. I don’t know if it was curiosity or an insatious desire to be helpful, but despite being extremely late, I pulled over, put on my hazard lights and jumped out of the car.
In retrospect I wish I took a picture so you could see how bad it was, but in the moment, pictures were the furthest thing on my mind. Oh, I found one online —————————–>
Yeah, that bad. I’m pretty sure both cars were totaled.
Anywho, the lady climbed out of her car quite alright, and some other men who had also stopped, looked at him and said “him dead man, him dead.”
I couldn’t believe it! I refused to! I went right up and looked at him, and his head was twitching, but his body looked limp. I almost thought he was dead, but then my gaze fell to his abdomen. Up. Down. Up. Down. Slowly but surely, as his stomach rose and fell, I was relieved to see he was alive. I said “No man! Him nuh dead!” and proceeded to show the others that he was breathing. I told him “Hold on man! Hold on! You’re gonna be okay! Stay with us!” I whipped out my phone and called 119 and told them the location of the accident and asked for an ambulance. Luckily we had passed a police car moments before so they were on the scene quickly. The men proceeded to help the man–who was shocked out of his life, but moving at this point–out of the car. They laid him out on the road and tried to keep him still. I think he should live; at least I hope he does, even if he has back pain for the rest of his life.
Why tell you this story? Well, I’m proud of me. Proud of the fact that even though I was late for work, I stopped and I did something to help. How many times do we see stuff happen to people, and all we can say is “OH MY GOD!” with mouths agape–but nothing more? How many of us give the iconic line in some situations “I’ll pray for you!” when if we looked into ourselves we’d see that we could do soooo much more than just pray?
I digress; sometimes it’s not always possible to stop and help, but for the times when we can, how often do we? How many of us would just be like the Priest and Rabbi and continue on our way to work? Probably we’d pop out our camera phones and start taking pics and recording.
I remember this scenario in my Broadcast Management Class at Northern Caribbean University.
One of the best lecturers in my opinion, Mr. Rowan Wade, raised the question: as a media practitioner, at the scene of an accident, what would we do first? Start writing a story or shooting footage? Or would we help first? I think back then I said I would help then do my story. I think it’s a question of your personal ethics. I can’t answer for anyone or tell you what to do. Can’t fault anyone for their choice. You do what you gotta or what you wanna do.
On this day, I was already late for work, so it couldn’t be any worse to stop and help. I’m so glad I did. Maybe God allowed me to be late for this reason. I hope the man is okay. Even if (God forbid) he isn’t, I can be at peace with myself for trying to do something meaningful for him. Think I’ve truly found my answer to the question of our personal ethics. After all, we are supposed to be our brother’s (or sister’s) keeper.