i remember two years ago, when i had retired into my sleep at about 10pm, and a close family friend came knocking (and ringing my phone off the hook) to tell me that his wife was in labour. this is a couple that had spent 4 years of marriage trying to conceive (i often wonder why legitimate couples struggle to conceive while layabouts get pregnant especially when they don't want it, but hey, another of life's ironies). his wife is so lovely and a really great person who helped my sister and i settle in quite well, when we first moved back home after such a long time in Abuja. so, he was there to seek our financial assistance as it had become an unusually protracted labour and they needed to buy some additional medical supplies and all. fortunately, my sisters boyfriend (now my brother in law) was there that night and had enough money on him to salvage the situation. naturally, we woke up the next morning and flew to the hospital to behold the new bundle of joy. everyone was smiling and making jokes and being in general good cheer. this being a sunday made it even more special as prayers were said every minute and blessings were shared. it was really beautiful time. throughout sunday night, my friend kept calling my phone over and over. being the deep sleeper that i am with the bad habit of putting my phone on silent before i sleep, i only found out on monday morning while preparing for work. he must have been too excited to sleep.
to cut the otherwise long story short, he was back at the hospital and so my sister and i branched there first on the way to work. well, he met us outside with a plastic grin on his face and said as passively as you can imagine: "the baby died yesternight". just like that. no preamble, no speech. for the first time, i experienced the feeling of having your heart drop to your stomach. i couldn't understand. we all couldn't understand. that beautiful little girl just upped and died? yes, the labour was not less that 6 hours (from what i now recall i think it was much longer) and the baby was really really weak, and didn't cry for a long while afterwards but even then...? so i said a strong but brief prayer with him, being all i could think to do then, and went off to work. naturally, the entire day was a mess. i couldn't focus, i didn't want to call too often so they could face the issues, i didn't want to think how the wife would take, i just didn't want to think.
i finally braved to put a call through around noon, to show my support and ask if there was anything i could do to help. he told me how they were looking for a private place to bury the baby, and how the wife incessantly asks about the baby, and how he hated to lie to her with a straight face that the baby was receiving intensive care at the Lagos University Teaching Hospital, and how they had to control the crowd of well wishing church members and also keep the lie going even to those people who were thronging the hospital to see the mother and baby. and then the wife called me on tuesday, to thank me for all we had done for her and the baby and to say she feels her husband was acting strange. naturally, i joined the lying band and reinforced the fact that the baby was very fine, and that in fact i knew her mum and sisters were taking turns at the baby's side and she should recover and get home quick.
and then on wednesday, she was released from hospital, and the lying had to end. i have goosebumps just thinking about how she came to me when i returned from work that evening, and said, "you should have told me. i really trusted you". my sister and i spent days explaining. wow, i can't believe its still this fresh in my mind. and it wasn't my child, or a child that had a name yet, or even an identity...not a child that had a history, or had made memories, or given us a chance to bond and form an emotional connection with. yet it was this hard.
and so, when i heard that a child was killed in his school by kidnappers attempting to kidnap their principal, i paused to hear public outcry against the unjusifiable silence of government in the face of the growing insecurity in a country where tax is paid, and yet a child of school age with people who have invested their lives and emotions in him, can just be killed without remorse or remedial action. this child had history, pictures, memories,... a mother. and yet we all walk on by, like its just another day. i am shocked by the realization that the average nigerian has become immune to stories of death and killing, that it evokes no emotional response anymore. "14 people die in bomb blast", "7 killed in boko haram jail break", "3 die as kidnappers take principal hostage"...it has suddenly become like random numbers in our minds and we have emotionally equated human lives with used bottle tops in order to save ourselves going insane from the thought of how much misery the loss of a single life has caused not just those who loved the deceased, but all of us as a people.
and so, as always, i will do what i can today not just for the child that died, but for the police orderly and driver that was killed, by writing about it and bringing it as much attention as I can. i can't pretend to understand the emptiness that their family will feel, and the pain that their loss will bring those families both physically and emotionally, but i will not be silent. i will not be the average nigerian, and i hope someday, i will be able to do more than shout about the oddities that now clearly define us as a people.
i hope you can do the same, peeps. we must not be quiet...thats the least we can do.
to cut the otherwise long story short, he was back at the hospital and so my sister and i branched there first on the way to work. well, he met us outside with a plastic grin on his face and said as passively as you can imagine: "the baby died yesternight". just like that. no preamble, no speech. for the first time, i experienced the feeling of having your heart drop to your stomach. i couldn't understand. we all couldn't understand. that beautiful little girl just upped and died? yes, the labour was not less that 6 hours (from what i now recall i think it was much longer) and the baby was really really weak, and didn't cry for a long while afterwards but even then...? so i said a strong but brief prayer with him, being all i could think to do then, and went off to work. naturally, the entire day was a mess. i couldn't focus, i didn't want to call too often so they could face the issues, i didn't want to think how the wife would take, i just didn't want to think.
i finally braved to put a call through around noon, to show my support and ask if there was anything i could do to help. he told me how they were looking for a private place to bury the baby, and how the wife incessantly asks about the baby, and how he hated to lie to her with a straight face that the baby was receiving intensive care at the Lagos University Teaching Hospital, and how they had to control the crowd of well wishing church members and also keep the lie going even to those people who were thronging the hospital to see the mother and baby. and then the wife called me on tuesday, to thank me for all we had done for her and the baby and to say she feels her husband was acting strange. naturally, i joined the lying band and reinforced the fact that the baby was very fine, and that in fact i knew her mum and sisters were taking turns at the baby's side and she should recover and get home quick.
and then on wednesday, she was released from hospital, and the lying had to end. i have goosebumps just thinking about how she came to me when i returned from work that evening, and said, "you should have told me. i really trusted you". my sister and i spent days explaining. wow, i can't believe its still this fresh in my mind. and it wasn't my child, or a child that had a name yet, or even an identity...not a child that had a history, or had made memories, or given us a chance to bond and form an emotional connection with. yet it was this hard.
and so, when i heard that a child was killed in his school by kidnappers attempting to kidnap their principal, i paused to hear public outcry against the unjusifiable silence of government in the face of the growing insecurity in a country where tax is paid, and yet a child of school age with people who have invested their lives and emotions in him, can just be killed without remorse or remedial action. this child had history, pictures, memories,... a mother. and yet we all walk on by, like its just another day. i am shocked by the realization that the average nigerian has become immune to stories of death and killing, that it evokes no emotional response anymore. "14 people die in bomb blast", "7 killed in boko haram jail break", "3 die as kidnappers take principal hostage"...it has suddenly become like random numbers in our minds and we have emotionally equated human lives with used bottle tops in order to save ourselves going insane from the thought of how much misery the loss of a single life has caused not just those who loved the deceased, but all of us as a people.
and so, as always, i will do what i can today not just for the child that died, but for the police orderly and driver that was killed, by writing about it and bringing it as much attention as I can. i can't pretend to understand the emptiness that their family will feel, and the pain that their loss will bring those families both physically and emotionally, but i will not be silent. i will not be the average nigerian, and i hope someday, i will be able to do more than shout about the oddities that now clearly define us as a people.
i hope you can do the same, peeps. we must not be quiet...thats the least we can do.
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