ការកំសាន្តប្រចាំសប្តាហ៍

Posted: 04/02/2019 | April 2nd, 2019

Editor’s Note: I wavered on composing about this for a long time since I didn’t want to put people off on Colombia or perpetuate the myth that danger lurks around every corner. As you can tell from my posts here, here, here, and here, I truly like the country. I mean it’s awesome. (And there will be plenty more blog posts about how great it is.) but I blog about all my experiences – good or bad – and this story is a good lesson on travel safety, the importance of always following local advice, and what occurs when you stop doing so.

“Are you OK?”

“Here. សូម​អង្គុយ​ចុះ។”

“Do you need some water?”

A growing crowd had gathered around me, all offering help in one form or another.

“No, no, no, I believe I’ll be OK,” I stated waving them off. “I’m just a bit stunned.”

My arm and back throbbed while I tried to regain my composure. “I’m going to be truly sore in the morning,” I thought.

“Come, come, come. We insist,” stated one girl. She led me back onto the walkway where a security guard provided me his chair. I sat down.

“តើ​អ្នក​ឈ្មោះ​អ្វី? Here’s some water. Is there anyone we can call?”

“ខ្ញុំ​នឹង​មិន​អី​ទេ។ I’ll be fine,” I kept replying.

My arm throbbed. “Getting punched sucks,” I stated to myself.

Regaining my composure, I slowly took off the jacket I was wearing. I was as well sore for any quick motions anyways. I needed to see how bad the bruises were.

As I did so, gasps arose from the crowd.

My left arm and shoulder were dripping with blood. My shirt was soaked through.

“Shit,” I stated as I realized what had happened. “I believe I just got stabbed.”

***
There’s a perception that Colombia is unsafe, that despite the heyday of the drug wars being over, danger lurks around most corners and you have to be truly careful here.

It’s not a completely unwarranted perception. Petty crime is extremely common. The 52-year civil war killed 220,000 people — although thankfully this number has significantly dropped since the 2016 peace agreement.

While you are unlikely to be blown up, randomly shot, kidnapped, or ransomed by guerrillas, you are extremely likely to get pickpocketed or mugged. There were over 200,000 armed robberies in Colombia last year. While fierce crimes have been on the decline, petty crime and robbery has been on the upswing.

Before I went to Colombia, I’d heard countless stories of petty theft. While there, I heard even more. A friend of mine had been robbed three times, the last time at gunpoint while on his method to meet me for dinner. Locals and expats alike told me the exact same thing: the rumors of petty theft are true, but if you keep your wits about you, follow the rules, and don’t flash your valuables, you’ll be OK.

There’s even a local expression about it: “No dar papaya” (Don’t give papaya). Essentially, it means that you shouldn’t have something “sweet” out in the open (a phone, computer, watch, etc.) that would make you a target. keep your valuables hidden, don’t roam around locations you shouldn’t at night, don’t flash money around, avoid coming out of nightlife areas alone at night, etc. just put: Don’t put yourself in a position where people can take advantage of you.

I heeded such advice. I didn’t wear headphones in public. I didn’t take my phone out unless I was in a group or a restaurant, or completely sure nobody else was around. I took just enough money for the day with me when I left my hostel. I warned buddies about using fancy fashion jewelry or watches when they visited.

But, the longer you are somewhere, the more you get complacent.

When you see locals on their phones in congested areas, tourists toting thousand-dollar cameras, and youngsters using Airpods and Apple Watches, you begin to think, “OK, during the day, it’s not so bad.”

The more nothing occurs to you, the more indifferent you get.

Suddenly, you step out of a cafe with your phone out without even believing about it.

In your hands is papaya.

And somebody wishes to take it.

***
It was near sunset. I was on a busy street in La Candelaria, the main tourist area of Bogotá. The cafe I had been at was closing, so it was time to find somewhere new. I decided to head to a hostel to finish some work and take advantage of happy hour.

I’d been in Bogotá for a few days now, enjoying a city most people compose off. There was a appeal to it. even in the tourist hotspot of La Candelaria, it didn’t feel as gringofied as Medellín. It felt the most authentic of all the big Colombian cities I had visited. I was loving it.

I exited the cafe with my phone out, completing a text message. It had slipped my mind to put it away. It was still light outside, there were crowds around, and lots of security. After nearly six weeks in Colombia, I had grown contented in circumstances like this.

“What’s truly going to happen? ខ្ញុំ​នឹង​មិន​អី​ទេ។”

Three steps out of the door, I felt somebody clean up against me. At first, I believed it wassomebody running past me up until I quickly realized that a guy was trying to take my phone out of my hand.

Fight or flight set in — and I fought.

“Get the fuck off me!” I yelled as I wrestled with him, keeping an iron grip on my phone. I tried pushing him away.

“Help, help, help!” I shouted into the air.

I keep in mind distinctly the confused look on his deal with as if he had expected an easy mark. That the phone would slip out of my hand and he’d be gone before anyone could catch him.

Without a word, he started punching my left arm, and I continued to resist.

“Get off me! Help, help!”

We tussled in the street.

I kicked, I screamed, I blocked his punches.

The commotion triggered people to run toward us.

Unable to dislodge the phone from my hand, the mugger turned and ran.

***
After people assisted me sit down and the adrenaline used off, I got lightheaded. My ears rang. I had difficulty focusing for a few moments.

Blood was dripping with my soaked shirt.

“Fuck,” I stated looking at my arm and shoulder.

I tried to compose myself.

Having grown up surrounded by physicians and nurses, I ran with a quick “how bad is this” checklist in my mind.

I made a fist. I could feel my fingers. I could move my arm. “OK, I most likely don’t have nerve or muscle damage.”

I could breathe and was not coughing up blood. “Ok, I most likely don’t have a punctured lung.”

I could still walk and feel my toes.

My light-headedness dissipated.

“OK, there’s most likely not as well much major damage,” I thought.

Words I didn’t comprehend were spoken in Spanish. A doctor shown up and assisted clean and put pressure on my wounds. A young lady in the crowd who spoke English took my phone and voice-texted my only friend in Bogotá to let her know the situation.

As an ambulance would take as well long, the police, who numbered about a dozen by now, packed me onto the back of a truck and took me to a hospital, stopping web traffic on the method like I was an honored dignitary.

Using Google equate to communicate, the police inspected me in at the hospital. They took down as much information as they could, showed me a picture of the attacker (yes, that’s him!), and called my friend to update her about where I was.

As I waited to be seen by the doctors, the owner of my hostel showed up. After having taken my address, the cops had phoned up the hostel to let them know what occurred and she had rushed down.

The hospital personnel saw me quickly. (I suspect being a stabbed gringo got me quicker attention.)

We went into one of the examination rooms. My shirt came off, they cleaned my arm and back, and assessed the damage.

I had five wounds: two on my left arm, two on my shoulder, and one on my back, little cuts that broke the skin, with two appearing like they got into the muscle. If the knife had been longer, I would have been in serious trouble: one cut was right on my collar and another especially close to my spine.

When you believe of the term “stabbing,” you believe of a long blade, a single deep cut into the abdomen or back. You picture somebody with a extending knife being rolled into the hospital on a stretcher.

That was not the case for me. I had been, more colloquially correct, knifed.

Badly knifed.

But just knifed.

There was no blade extending from my gut or back. There would be no surgery. No deep lacerations.

The wounds wouldn’t need any more than antibiotics, stitches, and time to heal. A lot of time. (How much time? This occurred at the end of January and it took two months for the bruising to go down.)

I was stitched up, taken for an X-ray to make sure I didn’t have a punctured lung, and needed to sit around for another six hours as they did a follow-up. My friend and hostel owner stayed a bit.

During that time, I booked a flight home. While my wounds weren’t serious and I could have stayed in Bogotá, I didn’t want to danger it. The hospital refused to give me antibiotics and, being a bit suspicious of their stitching job, I wished to get checked out back home while everything was still fresh. When I was leaving the hospital, I even had to ask them to cover my wounds. They were going to leave them exposed.

It’s better to be risk-free than sorry.

***
Looking back, would I have done anything differently?

It’s easy to say, “Why didn’t you just give him your phone?”

But it’s not as if he led with a weapon. had he done so, I obviously would have surrendered the phone. This kid (and it turned out he was just a kid of about 17) just tried to grab it from my hand, and anyone’s natural instinct would be to pull back.

If somebody stole your purse, took your computer while you were utilizing it, or tried to grab your watch, your initial, primal reaction wouldn’t be, “Oh well!” It would be, “Hey, give me back my stuff!”

And if that stuff were still connected to your hand, you’d pull back, shout for help, and hope the mugger would go away. especially when it’s still daytime and there មានហ្វូងមនុស្សនៅជុំវិញ។ អ្នកមិនអាចសន្មតថាអ្នកលោតមានអាវុធមានអាវុធទេ។

ផ្អែកលើព័ត៌មានដែលខ្ញុំមាននៅពេលនោះខ្ញុំមិនជឿថាខ្ញុំនឹងធ្វើអ្វីផ្សេងទេ។ ធម្មជាតិទើបតែកំណត់ចូល។

អ្វីៗអាចកាន់តែអាក្រក់ទៅ ៗ : កាំបិតអាចវែងបានយូរ។ គាត់អាចមានកាំភ្លើង។ ខ្ញុំអាចបង្វែរផ្លូវខុសហើយកាំបិតតូចនោះអាចនឹងបុកសរសៃឈាមធំឬករបស់ខ្ញុំ។ កាំបិតគឺតិចតួចណាស់ដែលខ្ញុំមិនទាំងមានអារម្មណ៍ថាក្នុងអំឡុងពេលនៃការវាយប្រហារនេះ។ ដាវវែងជាងនេះប្រហែលជាបានបង្កឱ្យខ្ញុំកេះខ្ញុំដើម្បីធ្វើឱ្យប្រសើរឡើងនិងទម្លាក់ទូរស័ព្ទរបស់ខ្ញុំ។ ខ្ញុំមិនដឹងទេ។ ប្រសិនបើគាត់ធ្លាប់ជាអ្នកធ្វើឱ្យប្រសើរឡើងគាត់នឹងបន្តទៅមុខទៀតហើយខ្ញុំមិនអាចចាប់បានទេនៅពេលដែលចលនាទៅមុខបានធ្វើឱ្យទូរស័ព្ទនេះទុកដៃរបស់ខ្ញុំ។

ការអនុញ្ញាតិគឺគ្មានទីបញ្ចប់។

នេះក៏ជាបញ្ហាដែលមិនមានសំណាងផងដែរ។ ពេលវេលាខុសនិងស្ថានភាពខុសកន្លែង។ នេះអាចកើតឡើងចំពោះខ្ញុំគ្រប់ទីកន្លែង។ អ្នកអាចនៅកន្លែងខុសហើយពេលវេលាខុសក្នុងទីតាំងមួយលាននិងក្នុងស្ថានភាពមួយលាន។

ជីវិតគឺជាហានិភ័យ។ អ្នកមិនស្ថិតក្នុងការគ្រប់គ្រងអ្វីដែលកើតឡើងចំពោះអ្នកទីពីរដែលអ្នកដើរចេញពីទ្វារនោះទេ។ អ្នកជឿថាអ្នកគឺជា។ អ្នកជឿថាអ្នកមានចំណុចទាញក្នុងកាលៈទេសៈ – ប៉ុន្តែបន្ទាប់មកអ្នកដើរចេញពីហាងកាហ្វេមួយហើយបានចាក់ប៉ាក់។ អ្នកទទួលបាននៅក្នុងឡានដែលមានគ្រោះថ្នាក់ឬឧទ្ធម្ភាគចក្រដែលធ្លាក់ចុះបរិភោគអាហារដែលដាក់នៅមន្ទីរពេទ្យឬទោះបីជាមានការខិតខំប្រឹងប្រែងសុខភាពល្អបំផុតរបស់អ្នកក៏ដោយក៏ធ្លាក់ចុះពីការគាំងបេះដូង។

អ្វីដែលអាចកើតឡើងចំពោះអ្នកនៅពេលណាមួយ។

យើងធ្វើផែនការដូចជាយើងកំពុងគ្រប់គ្រង។

ប៉ុន្តែយើងមិនគ្រប់គ្រងអ្វីទាំងអស់។

អ្វីដែលយើងអាចធ្វើបានគឺគ្រប់គ្រងប្រតិកម្មរបស់យើងនិងការឆ្លើយតបរបស់យើង។

ខ្ញុំពិតជាចូលចិត្តទីក្រុងBogotá។ ខ្ញុំពិតជាដូចកូឡុំប៊ី។ អាហារមានរសជាតិឆ្ងាញ់ហើយទេសភាពអស្ចារ្យ។ នៅទូទាំងខ្ញុំទៅទីនោះមនុស្សមានភាពរឹងមាំ, រួសរាយរាក់ទាក់និងរីករាយ។

ហើយនៅពេលរឿងនេះបានកើតឡើងចំពោះមនុស្សទាំងអស់ដែលបានជួយខ្ញុំដែលបាននៅជាមួយខ្ញុំរហូតទាល់តែមន្រ្តីប៉ូលីសជាច្រើនដែលបានជួយខ្ញុំឱ្យមានវិធីជាច្រើនដែលបានទៅរកខ្ញុំម្ចាស់ផ្ទះដែលបានបញ្ចប់ ក្នុងនាមជាអ្នកបកប្រែរបស់ខ្ញុំហើយមិត្តរបស់ខ្ញុំដែលបើកឡានមួយម៉ោងដើម្បីនៅជាមួយខ្ញុំ។

អ្នករាល់គ្នាបានសុំទោស។ មនុស្សគ្រប់គ្នាយល់ថានេះគឺជាអ្វីដែលកូឡុំប៊ីត្រូវបានគេយល់សម្រាប់។ ពួកគេចង់ប្រាប់ខ្ញុំឱ្យដឹងថានេះមិនមែនជាប្រទេសកូឡុំប៊ីទេ។ ខ្ញុំជឿថាពួកគេមានអារម្មណ៍មិនល្អអំពីការវាយប្រហារជាងអ្វីដែលខ្ញុំបានធ្វើ។

ប៉ុន្តែបទពិសោធន៍នេះបានរំ me កខ្ញុំពីមូលហេតុដែលអ្នកមិនអាចទទួលបានការពេញចិត្ត។ ខ្ញុំបានផ្តល់ផ្លែល្ហុង។ ខ្ញុំមិនគួរមានទូរស័ព្ទរបស់ខ្ញុំទេ។ នៅពេលដែលខ្ញុំចាកចេញពីហាងកាហ្វេខ្ញុំគួរតែដាក់វាចោល។ វាមិនមានបញ្ហាពេលវេលានៃថ្ងៃទេ។ នោះហើយជាច្បាប់នៅកូឡុំប៊ី។ រក្សារបស់មានតម្លៃរបស់អ្នកឱ្យលាក់។ ជាពិសេសនៅបូហ្គូតាដែលពិតជាមានអត្រាខ្ពស់នៃឧក្រិដ្ឋកម្មបន្តិចបន្តួចជាងកន្លែងផ្សេងទៀតនៅក្នុងប្រទេស។ ខ្ញុំមិនបានធ្វើតាមដំបូន្មានទេ។

ហើយខ្ញុំមានសំណាងដោយសារតែវា។ ខ្ញុំបានទទួលទូរស័ព្ទរបស់ខ្ញុំឱ្យបានញឹកញាប់ផងដែរហើយជាមួយនឹងការមិនមានឧប្បត្តិហេតុនីមួយៗខ្ញុំបានរីកចម្រើនកាន់តែច្រើនឡើង ៗ ។ ខ្ញុំនៅតែទម្លាក់ឆ្មាំរបស់ខ្ញុំចុះទៀត។

អ្វីដែលបានកើតឡើងគឺសំណាងប៉ុន្តែវាមិនចាំបាច់កើតឡើងទេប្រសិនបើខ្ញុំបានអនុវត្តតាមច្បាប់។

នេះជាមូលហេតុដែលមនុស្សតែងតែព្រមានខ្ញុំឱ្យប្រុងប្រយ័ត្ន។

ដោយសារតែអ្នកមិនធ្លាប់ដឹង។ អ្នកសុខសប្បាយរហូតទាល់តែអ្នកមិន។

ដែលបាននិយាយថាអ្នកនៅតែមិនមានបញ្ហា។ អមតានទាំងអស់ដែលខ្ញុំបាននិយាយ? អ្នកពាក់ព័ន្ធទាំងអស់ដែលរំលោភលើចរន្តមិនពិត “គ្មានដារ៉ាប៉ាយ៉ា” ច្បាប់ហើយមានអ្វីដែលមានតម្លៃរបស់យើងឬដើរតែម្នាក់ឯងនៅពេលយប់នៅតំបន់ដែលពួកគេមិនគួរមាន។ កុំបំពានច្បាប់! នេះអាចកើតឡើងចំពោះខ្ញុំគ្រប់ទីកន្លែងក្នុងពិភពលោកដែលខ្ញុំមិនបានអនុវត្តតាមច្បាប់សន្តិសុខដែលអ្នកត្រូវបានគេសន្មត់ថាជួយឱ្យអ្នកកាត់បន្ថយហានិភ័យ។

ប៉ុន្តែក៏ដឹងដែរថាប្រសិនបើអ្នកមានបញ្ហា, ប្រជាជនកូឡុំប៊ីនឹងជួយអ្នក។ ពីម្ចាស់ផ្ទះរបស់ខ្ញុំទៅនឹងសមត្ថកិច្ចចំពោះអ្នកដែលអង្គុយជាមួយខ្ញុំនៅពេលដែលវាបានកើតឡើងដល់បុរសចៃដន្យនៅមន្ទីរពេទ្យដែលបានផ្តល់សូកូឡាខ្ញុំវាតែងតែអាចពឹងផ្អែកលើសប្បុរសធម៌របស់មនុស្សចម្លែក។ ពួកគេបានធ្វើឱ្យបទពិសោធន៍ដ៏គួរឱ្យភ័យខ្លាចកាន់តែងាយស្រួលក្នុងការដោះស្រាយ។

ខ្ញុំនឹងមិនអនុញ្ញាតឱ្យឧប្បត្តិហេតុដ៏ចម្លែកនេះផ្លាស់ប្តូរទស្សនៈរបស់ខ្ញុំចំពោះប្រទេសដ៏អស្ចារ្យបែបនេះទេ។ ខ្ញុំត្រលប់ទៅប្រទេសកូឡុំប៊ីវិញនូវវិធីសាស្ត្រដូចគ្នាពិតប្រាកដដែលខ្ញុំទទួលបាននៅក្នុងឡានបន្ទាប់ពីគ្រោះថ្នាក់ចរាចរណ៍។ តាមពិតខ្ញុំតូចចិត្តនឹងការចាកចេញ។ ខ្ញុំមានពេលវេលាដ៏អស្ចារ្យ