I'm sorry

Downtown is a wild maze. People, motorcycles, taxis, chickens, and buses weave around and past each other, honking and pushing to move on. A coworker drove us to get our internet and phones set up, and we got lost in the chaos. Men and women on either sides of the car, music blaring from shops along the road, dogs searching for scraps of food. At one point we heard a thump and saw that she had just bumped a man with her side mirror. She was going slowly when it happened, so we didn’t think much of it. Traffic slowed and the man, eventually catching up with us, knocked on the window. We waved and kept going, afraid he would make a scene and ask for money (not a rare reaction). After all, he was walking in the road. The man turned and walked to a police officer who was standing nearby.

The police officer waved us over, and we pulled to the curb. David rolled down the window and the man said, “This woman hit me with her car, and when I asked her to stop and talk, she did not say she was sorry.” The police officer said with a smirk, “You did not say you are sorry? Why did you not say you are sorry?” A few minutes of apologies and explanation and we were off again.

And that is when I learned the power of the words, “I’m sorry.”