Can I be A Witness?

Almost imperceptibly the motorcycle ahead of me was drifting into the center of the lane as a mini-bus loaded with a dozen tourists and all their gear whizzed past me. Hugging the shoulder I watched as the motorbike continued further still into the middle of the road and it dawned on me, before it dawned on the driver of the minibus, that the bike wasn't drifting but was making a lazy arching left-hand turn. Minibus moved further into the passing lane with every intention of passing, while maintaining speed. I can't recall hearing a horn, though there very well may have been, regardless it would have come too late. The minibus attempted to brake, a tough task with all that weight causing great momentum. In fact I'd witnessed this the day earlier, as the driver of my minibus had slammed on the brakes to avoid crushing a family of chickens and the bus had responded by dipping forward but hardly stopping on a dime (and passing over the chicks anyway).
From my vantage point less than 50m trailing the scene the motorbike became obscured by the van and I realized that I wasn't going to see it come out the other side in one piece. Slam! Oh $*!~

Rolling up to the front of the van on my bike I saw the motorbike on its side tucked under the front bumper, directly centered with the bus. The two riders had been tossed only a meter or two forward and were both laying in the dust of the far shoulder. From this it was apparent that the bus had slowed a fair amount, and had tried to avoid the crash by moving further to the left, but this only resulted in meeting the bike square on anyway.

I arrived moments after the driver of the minibus had jumped out, followed closely by the foreign occupants, as a few bystanders came up the rear. There was confusion and not much done to help the injured so I knelt to see if they were okay. No Laos person could speak any English but I indicated 'phone' with my hand and repeated 'hospital'. Eventually someone was on the phone as I poured water on a rag to at least cleanse the wounds. This allowed me to assess the injuries. The driver, an older man had some blood and scrapes on his right forehead, near his temple. This appeared to be the worst of it but it was hard to tell - and he didn't try to move. The rear passenger of the bike was younger and leaner, and at first had tried to get up and walk but I'd indicated that he should sit and he did in front of me. With his help we wiped him down, him and I finding more and more cuts on his legs and feet but luckily nothing that looked too severe.

To me it seemed that a great deal of time had passed with little action with regards to actually getting these two checked out when finally a flatbed pickup truck arrived. The driver must have asked what happened because there was a flurry of words and the injured bike driver tried to defend himself from his seated position on the ground. I yelled to forget about what happened and help these people first and the argument subsided. Under one arm we led the driver with the obvious head injury to the front seat; he was conscious and aware, but slightly out of it. The other man was placed in the bed of the truck on top of bags of cement and he looked to be in better condition but still messy.

Lifting the minorly busted bike up into the back of the truck as well I locked eyes with the second man for just a moment before the truck drove off to the hospital. I believe it was a grateful look but it was hard to tell through the slight glaze.