I I started running three years ago as part of my daily fitness routine. Every morning after dropping my son off at school, I head to Perdana Park near my home in Kota Kinabalu, Malaysia, to warm up. The park was a great place to start the day with some quiet reflection.
One morning in early September, right after my run, I was surprised to find a flock of otters crossing the parking lot. I was amazed at how adorable this little creature looked and couldn’t help but videotape the moment. It was the first time I had seen an otter in a park, so I sent the video to my friends and they were overjoyed at how cute they were. Little did I know that the footage would soon spread online for reasons I never expected.
On September 11th of this year, I arrived at the park and got ready to start my usual routine. The air was still and there was no one on the road. My feet hit the ground at a steady rate and everything seemed calm until something jumped out of the drain beside me and I felt a sharp burning pain in my foot.
At first I thought I had startled a stray cat. By the time I realized what had actually bitten me, more otters had flown out of the drain and had sunk their teeth into my leg. Panic surged through me and I writhed, collapsing into a sitting position trying to fight them off. My voice cracked as I screamed for help. The attack was relentless, there were ten otters in all, and they tore my arms, legs, and even the back of my scalp, as if driven by some kind of pent-up rage.
I had flashbacks for days afterwards and had trouble sleeping. My medical team suggested that I might have PTSD.
I struggled, keeping my face as best I could, for what felt like five minutes of agony, until a couple rushed in to help me. The wife found a discarded paint pot and waved it to try to scare off the otters, but some of them instead attacked her and her husband.
As the otters shifted their attention, a third jogger ran over and helped me escape. The commotion attracted more people, and park rangers arrived, brandishing iron bars to chase the animals away. Bloodied and overwhelmed with pain, I sat on the side of the road in shock, only beginning to realize the full extent of my injuries.
The flesh was torn from my arm and blood was dripping from it. The couple who intervened were also injured, but their injuries were limited to their lower extremities. When the ambulance arrived and the three of us were taken to the hospital, this story was recounted to the paramedics. Their faces reflected our own disbelief.
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At the hospital, he received tetanus and rabies shots and was kept under observation for a week as this was the first recorded otter attack in Sabah. For the first few days, I was exhausted and had a hard time processing everything that had happened. As my condition began to improve, the surgical team managed to close the wounds on my scalp and arm, but some of the deep puncture wounds required a second surgery. 17 days left until departure.
During that time, my family and friends came to visit, which made me feel better. Although I was able to see my 12-year-old son, my young daughter was not allowed in the hospital ward, so I was happy to be able to go home and start my recovery properly. My body bore the marks of my ordeal. The wound had about 150 stitches, a stark reminder of the attack. I had flashbacks for days afterwards and had trouble sleeping. My medical team suggested I might have PTSD and arranged counseling, but the underlying fear remains.
My story made headlines all over the world, and the footage I reshot because I thought it was cute was featured. Not long after, a second video of a group of otters on another local running route went viral. Some believe that urban development is destroying their natural habitat, forcing them to find new homes in cities.
I continue to stay in touch with the strangers who risked their lives to help me, whom I now know to be called Vincent and Martha. Although their wounds were less severe than mine, they still had to undergo surgery and were hospitalized for a week. I am forever grateful for their courage. Without their help, things could have ended much worse for me.
As told by Chris Broughton
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