Thursday, October 14, 2010: Define "Safety"

The most popular form of transportation in Ahmedabad is the ubiquitous tuk-tuk. Everywhere I went in the city hordes of these tiny green and yellow contraptions could be found haphazardly navigating traffic, horns frantically blaring as though the noise had the power to physically shield the vehicle from harm while the drivers brazenly cut off vehicles five times their size. A combination of factors, such as their sheer numbers (which meant I never had to wait more than 30 seconds for transportation), the price of a journey (most trips cost around $1.00 Canadian to reach my destination), and the friendliness of the drivers (many of whom were able to teach me a thing or two about inter-cultural communication despite knowing little or no English) ensured that I spent the majority of my trip to Ahmedabad wedged in the passenger compartment of these motorcycle/wagon hybrids with only my fellow students to cushion me from any accident that may occur.

There was only one small problem: I found the tuk-tuks to be terrifying. At the centre of this profound discomfort lay my assumption that Ahmedabadis were terrible drivers whose ignorance or wilful disobedience of traffic rules was repeatedly and harrowingly endangering my rather precious life. The complete lack of regard which the drivers had for anything resembling Western traffic regulations left me cowering as vehicle after oncoming vehicle would pull into our lane and race towards us, only ducking back into the proper lane just in time to avoid a seemingly inevitable head on collision. During my first few days all I could do was force myself to hang on for dear life and pray.

Riding around in the motorized equivalent of an open-sided tin can for the first few days did nothing to bolster my sense of anxiety. However, it did provide me a unique vantage point from which I was eventually able to reconcile my anxiety and discomfort with the realities of motorized travel in Ahmedabad. The more I watched the movement of traffic from the back of the tuk-tuks, the more I became aware that the traffic itself was alive, weaving and flowing in organic rhythms that had initially been incomprehensible to me. What I had first interpreted as total anarchy when compared with patterns of vehicle movement at home instead gradually morphed itself into a vibrant art form before my jaundiced eyes. Where I had previously heard only noise I now realized that the different horn tones represented a unique language used to communicate one’s intentions to other drivers. The hap-hazardous passing behaviour now seemed perfectly choreographed to maximize traffic flow while skilfully avoiding potential collisions. By detaching myself from my ingrained (Western) beliefs about vehicular movement I was able to not only gain a greater understanding of the complex rituals that turn traffic in Ahmedabad from hopeless anarchy to organized chaos, but also learnt a humbling lesson about the dangers of making assumptions on the basis of my own Western ideals. Oh, and I learned to enjoy tuk-tuk rides too!