Millipedes on the road

I thought I had coined a word when "carfetti" came to mind, but upon googling it, I saw that it exists. The Urban Dictionary defines it as “the assorted bits of debris that litter the road after an auto accident” – which is exactly what I had in mind by the term.

The word had popped into my mind on a weekend in early May when I was hosting a four-person seaside yoga retreat. That weekend I noticed an unusual amount of vehicular debris at the roadsides – shattered windshield glass scattered like diamond confetti on asphalt, pieces of wing mirrors, fenders, smashed walls, fences bent and billowing inward after heavy vehicular impact, black skid marks, and a range of mangled-looking metallic pieces akin to quaint roadside sculptures.

The "carfetti" display came as no surprise, given the speedy, increasingly haphazard and perilous way in which many people in Tobago drive. With what seems like almost daily regularity, we read or hear of fatalities or serious injuries caused by vehicular accidents. I have observed many wreaths laid at roadsides or tied to trees and pillars, marking spots of fatal accidents.

On one day of the retreat, I was driving to the grocery with one of the participants. At one point, I used my right indicator and waited, as another vehicle was approaching. At the same time, almost out of nowhere, a huge lorry came speeding up behind us. I heard it, then on looking in my rearview mirror realised that the driver had no intentions of stopping, although there was nowhere for him to go other than straight into the back of my vehicle. Had I time or impulse to shoot forward to the right, my vehicle would have slammed into the rapidly oncoming one. That split second was one of those moments when I shut my eyes tightly and contracted my body, as if doing so would enable the truck to pass without casualty.

Miraculously, the Goliath passed us on the narrow dirt strip to the left, the thunderous sound and wind rush from its passage causing my SUV to shake. How that was possible without our having been killed or gravely injured, thereby contributing to the island’s ongoing "carfetti exhibition", is a mystery.

In discussion afterwards, my travel companion and I recalled that our group had, just the evening before, practised a powerful meditation – one which states as one of its benefits that it "creates a bubble of protection and safety around you and protects you from accidents".

Some days later, Tobago was plunged into mourning when a truck collided on the highway with an oncoming vehicle, then flipped and crushed an SUV, killing a loving, (and much-loved by many) couple (Christian Adams and his wife Teresa Alleyne-Adams) who had been on the way to collect their children from school.

In the aftermath of that tragedy, many (including me) became more aware of the increased presence of large trucks speeding along Tobago’s roadways, possibly due to a proliferation of projects taking place to the south of the island – airport construction, WASA’S massive pipe-laying project and extensive road works in the area of Shirvan/Store Bay local connector road (now halted due to lack of requisite environmental clearance).

Recently, while on the highway, a large truck looming behind my vehicle was unable to overtake due to oncoming traffic. I could see, feel and hear it like a giant breathing down my neck, attempting to bully me into driving faster. When I did not (I was going at a speed that I found sufficient), I could sense the driver’s impatience, as though his foot longed to press on the accelerator and obliterate the "insect" in front of him. As soon as I switched on my indicator and started veering left, he shot into the extra space provided, forging forth like a monster on steroids. Woe betide to any unsuspecting potential victims up ahead.

Why the speed? Where is the care for others on the path?

Thursday morning while returning home after an early morning bike ride, I looked down just in time to see a millipede crossing slowly before my front tyre. Thankfully I had time to veer and avoided crushing it.

We are all "millipedes" on the road of life. Be conscious of and caring for each other, regardless of our or their size. Slow down, smell the flowers — so much sweeter when they are not roadside wreaths.