Our motley crew—2 American and 3 Japanese tourists along with a Namibian guide—all pile into the white 4-wheel drive vehicle early Friday afternoon. Besides two of the Japanese women, none of us knows one another, so we drive in relative silence, idly chatting about our African travels and how we all envy the Europeans for their 5-weeks of annual vacation.
We’ve been driving for almost two hours when we stumble upon a ghastly scene, the type normally reserved for big screen blockbusters.
A man furiously waves at our vehicle, some 50 yards ahead of us on a minimally traversed gravel road. To his right is a flipped truck, the cab of which is crushed to the bone.
The relative safety of the modern era means that we rarely anticipate or prioritize someone’s propensity for fight versus flight or their ability to stay calm and productive in these difficult situations.