Helping Out

I have written about things before.  What I don’t know is if I have posted them or not.  Of the 425 things I have written, I have not posted about 65. 
One of the things about getting older is the afternoon nap.  I woke up from a nap and a repeat of Australian Story was on ABC 24, after being shown previously on the ABC.  I had seen it the 1st time, and was happy to see it again.
This time a couple of things stood out to me.  I probably should not say it, but a lot of times I hear something that may or may not be being said.  I say maybe I should not say it because I can imagine, “Stay away from Kuskie.  He hears things.”  Yeah I do.  Whatcha gonna do about it?
The story was about an outback doctor who also had a passion also for film making.  He was unsure which road to take.  He had a major car accident that really made up his mind for him.  He decided to be a doctor.  His words were “saving lives seemed like a good way to spend the day.”
When he had his accident he was heading to Kakadu with his girlfriend.  He took his eyes off the road for a moment, while he tried to tune into cricket.  A tyre hit the gravel and he yanked on the steering wheel.  The vehicle fish tailed and raced into the bush.  It rolled six times and hit something.  He blacked out.  He was at deaths door.  His girlfriend was injured but not as badly.  She hobbled to the road to get help.
Ten years later, the doctors dad is still reduced to tears.  Cars went by and did not stop.  My better self says “what was wrong with those people.  I’d stop.”  Trouble is, I cannot guarantee anything without being in that situation.  I sure hope I would.  But there could be a disconnect between what I believe and what I do.  It is like knowing something from a book, rather than because I have been through it.
I found it interesting who did stop.  It was three aboriginal men.  The doctor came to and one of the fellas said “you alright brother?”  He said “no.  I’m dying.” The reply was “you’ll be ok brother.”  And he was.  It took time, effort and operations, but he came good.
Why I found this interesting is that statistically these people seem to be over represented in so many things.  Australian prisons seem to have many more of them than the general population.  Their life expectancy is shorter.  They are over represented in certain diseases.
There may be genuine and legitimate reasons for that, but it is not what got my attention.  It was the fact that they were the ones willing to help when needed.  One of the conclusions I have come to is, having experience it, they recognise need more readily.  I know I quote Bob Dylan a lot but I only have about five albums.  He sang something that seems pertinent.  “Strange how people who suffer together, have stronger connections then people who are most content.”
These guys did not just call in the cavalry but stayed until they arrived.  They then disappeared into the night and to this day who they are is unknown.  It seems their motivation was not duty or glory, but need.  They saw it and they helped.  I have to ask myself, would I pass by or stop and help?