After Two Days
It was crepuscular. The cocks were crowing, the frogs croaking in a nearby lake, the goats and sheep also bleating for freedom in their barns. The waking sun smiled behind a palm tree, east side of Ireje – a countryside location in the Irepodun local government area of a southern Nigeria state. The village was regularly peaceful, her people - hospitable and diligent. Their expanse arable land never lacked tillers. Settlers in Obalende and Asese, their neigbours several kilometers away, envied their stout tubers of yam and cassava, they were agrarian leviathans. A door opened with a crack, allowing the dim rays of 'atupa' – their traditional lantern, to faintly glimmer in the distance. From their barns, the goats and sheep gave a muted response to the emerging person. They were soon let out and given dry peels of cassava. This was the most delightful activity they enjoyed from their hostess, each new day. Cocks crowed intermittently. The goats and sheep were usually friendly in the mornings. Their mastication continued – they must have been thanking Agbeke for rising up early to serve them breakfast. Agbeke was the eighth in a family of nine children. It was her interesting chore, amongst other things, to feed the animals. She rose up early and completed virtually all of them before her kith and kin woke up. This endeared her to all and sundry. As she got ready for school, Ogundele, her hunter father called: “Agbeke, have you taken your maize cob from the pot...?” She replied in the affirmative, knowing full well that her parents could not afford money for school mid-day meals – unlike others. As she and her older siblings walked towards the door, her mother, Ojuola beckoned on her. They embraced warmly. “Waa Soriire.” She blessed her after which she left their thatch-roofed mud hut. As they walked with other children along the path leading to their school, she recapitulated all she had been taught the previous day. The twelve year old primary six pupil numbers among the best in Ireje Community Primary School. It was her dream to be one of the three beneficiaries of the scholarship given annually to deserving primary six pupils. At least, this would lessen her parents’ burden when she gets to secondary school in the large city, she had hoped. ******************************************************************************* “Baba kola,” Ogundele’s hunter colleague called out to him in the bush, “any success?” “Hmm, just these two game birds -a pheasant and a partridge! I think I’m fed up of this trade....” He replied. “Fed up ke! Listen, God who gave a person big teeth will give him the big lips to cover them. Remember the days you caught deers and antelopes.” His friend of over fifteen years counseled. Ogundele, very impatient and in his chagrin cut in: “if you are not quitting hunting, I will not join you to be like the chameleon which says that he will not alter the dignified walking steps of his forefathers despite the burning bush. Good day.” He immediately walked out of his friend. Knowing Ogundele’s impatient temperance, Baba Kola counseled swiftly that the redness of a man’s eyes is still insufficient to light a cigarette. Perspiring profusely and adorning a faded blue tie and dye dress, Ojuola returned from the main market very fulfilled. It had been the market day. Buyers had come from Obalende and Asese to purchase farm produce. Her “garri wekun,” a staple product of cassava was second to none -she sold every grain of it –a feat she had not achieved in recent times. To celebrate her success, she bought a gift each for every member of her household and prepared pounded yam with egusi soup -her spouse’s best! One after the other, the father; Ogundele, the children, Olalekan, Temitope, Olusola, Bolutife, Abeni and others –returned to the hut to share Ojuola’s news, except their beloved Agbeke. Search parties were dispatched to every nook and cranny of Ireje. Gradually, night descended. Dark shadows moved the length and breadth of the village. Darkness had spread her tentacles to cover it on the moonless night. The myriad of stars shone in varying intensities. At last, she was found at the Community Health Centre, where someone had helped her to after she fell down along a path on her way from school. She was lucky to see the doctor that day because the health centre opened for services only on Mondays and Thursdays! Dr. Segun Omoseni had diagnosed her of fever. “Please eat.” Mother Ojuola appealed to Agbeke. “No…o...o...o…I can’t.” She replied. Her condition had worsened two days after - she had lost appetite for food and had grown lean. Pandemonium was let loose. Her schoolmates, teachers, peers and village elders came visiting. No one desired the withering of this rose. Ireje and her aficionados were later caught unawares as her illness aggravated. She lost grasp of her speech ability and spoke in a slur. Gradually, like a deer shot in the limb by Ogundele, she lost the use of her right leg! The goats and sheep missed her very much. Fever, inappetite, speech difficulties and now limb paralysis. This combination was too much for Dr. Omoseni as he cross-examined Agbeke during his subsequent visit to Ireje. It became Herculean for him to properly diagnose her ailment. Ogundele ran helter skelter to raise some money to pay hospital and drugs bills. After having approached half a dozen acquaintances, he eventually got a loan of N2,500 from Gbajumo, a cocoa merchant, after so much pleas. Meanwhile, Agbeke’s dream was not to become a pious hope after all as she emerged second in the scholarship examination. But as everybody waited for her to recover, the dark clouds hovered more over her house. Ogundele faced bouts of insinuations from Gbajumo, who wanted his money back. He reported him to whoever cared to listen and frustrated his tranquility in Ireje. Ogundele as a result fled to an unknown destination. “Mata somi were were, Mata somi were were ‘jo mi jo...” The full moon stood gallantly in the black sky overlooking Agbeke’s house. As it was their custom, the village youths were gathered to listen to moonlight tales. They sang this folksong again and again, dancing to the exciting rhythms of ‘bata,’ ‘bembe’ and ‘gangan’ drums. Agbeke, listening to the song which was filtering into the hut, sat idly, with her mother, in the hot room. She reminisced about her hey days in the Village Square when her dance steps stunned everyone. Her nerves jolted by the rhythm, Agbeke sprang up in frenzy and tried to make a dance step. ‘Gbaga!’ Her fall made a very thundering noise with the breaking away of her wooden clutches. She groaned loudly and her mum called out for help. From the Village Square which was a few metres away, everyone knew she was in trouble. Amazingly, her naughty age mates shouted (mockingly): ‘Ko...ko...ko...’ This expression had become her identity because she uttered no sentence without it – as a result of her speech defect. Shameful grief descended on her and drops of water flowed down her beautiful face. Seven days later, Dr. Francis Iwegbu, an expert neurologist at St. Nicholas Hospital - a specialist hospital - in the city of Lagos, appeared on the scene. He worked tooth and nail to fight Agbeke’s paraplegia. A son of the soil, one Chief Abiodun Owolayemo - a gubernatorial election candidate who had got wind of her ailment from the village chief, extended the hand of favour to St. Nicholas to her. Dr. Francis cross-examined Agbeke many times. When he discovered that the pain impulses were transmitted from her limb tissues to her nerve centre and not vice versa, he referred her to Prof. Olumuyiwa Folarin, a medical epidemiologist in the same hospital as having ascending motor (neurological) paralysis and speech difficulties. It was suspected that she was suffering from a new disease. As her condition deteriorated gradually, she was transferred to the intensive care unit, placed on an Electronic Cardio Gram (ECG) and respirator to aid her breathing. The paralysis was spreading to her respiratory muscles and heart. The doctor’s report revealed that she would only live for as long as the respirator could help her breathe! Prof. Folarin who had a good track record of the discovery of new disease was a sought-after prodigy among the world medical intelligentsia. His small and stout frame was an irony of his intellectual grounding and vast wealth of experience. He was a man who was always resolute about any case in his hands. He lost no life! Puffing his cigar vigorously and sipping a cup of coffee intermittently, he flipped through the pages of a zoonosis encyclopedia in his expansive office. Tracing a column with his index finger, his countenance seemed satisfied. ‘YES! YES! YES!’ He yelled, as is his custom after making a fresh discovery in his field of medicine. He made for the door. Meanwhile, Agbeke and Ojuola sat lonely in the hospital room. ‘...Kmama,....kai....ko....ko....kwul soon…ko...die?’ (Meaning: “mama, will I die soon?”) “Lailai, over my dead body.” Her mum replied vehemently. She could not blame her daughter because she was already lackluster, stolid and hopeless about her life. Suddenly, Prof. Folarin bolted in and beckoned on Ojuola for a talk. “Your daughter is suffering from a new zoonotic disease. A zoonotic disease is one that is transmitted from animals to man. I would like to know the animals you rear in Ireje.” The Professor opined. Ojuola opened up despite the labyrinth of his speech. He took notes and led a delegation of researchers to the village. Fresh discoveries were made: Agbeke was suffering from tick paralysis! Tick which later produced toxins in her body had bitten her. “The tick must have been contacted from the sheep and goats she kept for the family.” The doctors wrote in their report. However more money was needed to keep Agbeke alive at the hospital. Chief Owolayemo, the ‘guber’ aspirant was at large! She needed more tranquilizers for sustenance since there was no drug yet for the new disease. Ojuola wept - where would she source for thousands of naira to save her withering rose? An idea later struck her... She later returned to the hospital after being denied a substantial loan at the Farmers’ Bank in Ireje. Meanwhile, Professor Muyiwa Folarin by electronic mail, sent a detailed case file on the new zoonotic disease by electronic mail to the World Health Organization (WHO), Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO), Office of International Epizootiology (OIE) and the Nigeria Medical Association (NMA) for ‘notification, investigation, research and documentation.’ “Cardiac failure, respiratory failure…what do they mean?” Ojuola got more lugubrious and aged. No one, not even the hospital authorities wanted her to bury her fruit. St. Nicholas hospital management then decided to foot all the medical expenses. Occasionally, her daughter fell from consciousness to unconsciousness and from unconsciousness back to consciousness. In her dreams she saw lands, seas, high and low places with ghosts, ghosts, and ghosts everywhere. The respirator mask still hung like a mating lizard over her nose. Her breathing pumped like when thousands of air molecules sail gently into a bicycle wheel. Ojuola took a glance at her. Though now conscious, Agbeke seemed to be in another realm different from hers. Gently, the respirator and the ECG machine functioned efficiently… But, something happened. Truth is...there was a POWER CUT! The END.
Copyright © 2002 Tunde Alabi-Hundeyin Ii |