It was one of the most interesting, mesmerizing, action-packed displays of human interaction I had ever witnessed. One could call it organized chaos.
It was the year 2000 and I was in Ho Chi Minh City, formerly known as Saigon, Vietnam. I found myself standing on a corner of a three-lane street that fed into a huge circular intersection with five three-lane spokes of traffic leaving and entering. No traffic signals, no signs, no police. To add to the amazement, there was a multitude of vehicles: small cars and trucks (but no semis), many bicycles, motor scooters, tuk-tuks (rickshaws) and cyclos (tricycle taxies).
Mixed into all that were numerous pedestrians, some carrying bags of goods hung from long sticks they balanced on their shoulders. Everyone appeared to be carrying some form of cargo.
Two rules seemed to apply to the scene. No. 1: Keep moving. No. 2: Don’t stop. Sticking to these rules creates the most fluid, effective method of transport through the intersection.
Crossing dilemma
So here I was, after traveling through Southeast Asia for 10 weeks with my wife. She was still sleeping back at the hotel while I took this morning stroll and wound up trying to cross one of the three-lane spokes. (I didn’t need to cross the huge center.) For the first time in my life, I realized, I couldn’t manage to cross safely, the street was so packed with traffic. I stood there for a good five or 10 minutes, bewildered and dumbfounded and helpless.
Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, I felt a slight human touch on my left elbow. It startled me and I turned to find a short, elderly, gray-haired Vietnamese woman staring stoically and expressionlessly, straight across the street.
Before I had any chance to respond, she began to lead me across the street. To my utter amazement, every moving thing coming toward us began to adjust speed and position, allowing us to cross unscathed.
Shocking as it was at first, I immediately recognized the woman’s veteran wisdom and experience and felt little fear. As we reached the far side I again glanced at her to nod my thanks. She showed no emotion and never looked my way. She gently disconnected from my elbow and faded to the left into the busy crowd of day-to-day people.
All that day and ever since, my imagination has soared, wondering what this old woman had seen over the years in Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam. How many others, including foreigners, maybe even young American GIs, had she helped across the same busy streets?
From that day forward, to me, she will always be known as “The Traffic Whisperer,” patron of safety.
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