Road Safety

4th August 2008

I am absolutely loving speaking Russian again. Kazakhstan is fascinating. The most fearsome thing about this move is the prospect of becoming a Y2 teacher. But that is still a month away.

For the last 36 hours I have had an unfortunate bout of Delhi Belly (sorry If that is not PC) – not sure what caused it but it’s the stomach cramps variety and nothing more. I’ve taken a few shots of salt and sugar and have been drinking loads of water. I’ll live.

The roads here are, by reputation, pretty crazy. However, compared to Thailand it seems pretty calm. There are not many motorcycles but I have made some contacts already to help me organise importation if necessary or to get the right bike at the right price. The roads will be a doddle really.

Zebra crossings are interesting- to get across you simply have to step out and square up to the traffic, intimidating it with all your bodily might so that it has to stop. And that’s just for lane one. The drivers in the second lane can’t see you, they can only guess you are there because the car they are overtaking has suddenly slammed on the brakes. The first approaching car has become a parked car, which you need to look round to see if the second approaching car has begun to stop. If you make it to the middle the process starts again for the opposing traffic flow. There is nothing in the Tufty Club handbook to help you deal with this scenario.

The richer you are, the bigger the car you drive and the more road rules you can break. Overtaking is accompanied by a blast on the horn, which isn’t road rage but a warning (as per the highway code technically). Driving home with the Director of Education and his chauffeur was an eye opener. Evidently you can buy a horn which sounds like the white noise siren of the undercover police. Match that with a blacked out SUV (à la Jack Bauer) and you can pass for police officials. It makes perfect sense and was jolly good fun. I’m looking for Maplins the next time I go for a walk.

Seatbelts are a novelty. We went up Kok-Tobe to see the view and eat at the Turkish restaurant. On the way down I rode shotgun next to the bus driver and as I reached for my seatbelt he told me “Ne Nado”. Even if you couldn’t speak Russian you would have read the offense he had taken from my lack of trust in his driving. I insisted and so did he. He was adamant. I tried to explain I was a road safety officer but I don’t think he got it. Anyway, he dropped us off at the bottom of the hill and we set about walking the 2 miles home.

Now at this point I began to get a stomach cramp again. Bad news. These cramps are usually followed by a clear indication that I need to find a toilet quick. Now I thought I would be fine given that I had only just used the spotlessly clean but nevertheless horrendous squat toilet at the restaurant. Yeah, I know, it must have been an emergency. But not compared to this. Street level pavements don’t offer any alternatives- so a very brisk walk ensued. In fact, I’ve never clenched so hard or so long.

After about 15 minutes I could see the hotel in the distance; definitely nowhere to ‘go’ in the meantime. I noticed the lines of cars amassing at the intersection. They might have been about to see a brown legged tourist diving into the bushes. It was then that I noticed the reason for the queue. They were slowing to negotiate some road debris – a plastic car bumper undertray was directly in the middle of the lane. That could be dangerous if someone drove over it at speed. In fact, someone should do something…

I stopped, considered my tense, clenched buttocks and looked back again at the dangerous detritus. It did look really dangerous. There was a gap in the traffic. I had to do something… when you have been ‘in the business of saving lives’ as a Road Safety officer you are never really off duty, but this was ‘above and beyond’.

I dashed out, removed the plastic and dashed back. I probably looked like a quasimodo with a hernia, as I multi-tasked on clutching the debris and my buttocks at the same time.

I got a toot of appreciation. But I hardly looked back.

I made it to the hotel. You are probably hoping to hear a demeaning story about me filling my pants. No such luck. Give me a class of 6-7 yr olds, and it might be a different matter.