In
captivity & bondage!
I
have been ‘out of stock’ for the past few weeks and I want to inform
all and sundry that sadly, I was placed on Modified House Arrest (MHA).
I also want to
unequivocally and emphatically state that Mazi Nnamdi Kanu, IPOB and ESN were responsible
for 99% my recent travails. The UGM, other unknown elements and some miserable
witches and wizards from my village were responsible for remaining 1%. I am therefore calling on Malami, PMBs
Attorney General (even though many lawyers are questioning his credentials), to
amend the charges against Nnamdi Kanu to accommodate this latest crime. I am
also calling on the great Lai (whose nose has been bloodied over the Lekki
Massacre affair) to call a world press-conference to announce the new charges.
I expect that I will be given some
dollarized whistle-blowing allowances as par the extant policy.
So,
which one be MHA (it looks and sounds like a Federal Government honour)? You recall that in 1993, Professor Humphry
Nwosu introduced the Modified Open Ballot System ( MOBS, aka, Option
A4)) , which slightly deviated from original open ballot model. Similar to MOBS, MHA is
a house arrest in which the victim voluntarily submitted himself or
allowed himself to be so arrested. You
can trust that I have sought legal advice. I had wanted to brief Festus Keyamo but he is now ‘one of them’
with specialisation in the art and
science of weaponising poverty and unemployment, as in the current 774000
scheme or scam. In any case I am not a in a mood for theatricals and as such, I
settled for Olisa Agbakoba so that among others, when the bill gets as high as
the contentious Ikoyi Building, I will whisper to him: nwanne…easy.
Now to the main story.
On
Friday,5/11/21, I was in the office fully and functionally and thereafter, I
drove myself to Lagos. I worked on my car on Saturday and attended 6.30 am Mass
on Sunday at Our Lady Seat of Wisdom, Okota, where I performed fully as a ‘Church-worker’.
That Sunday, the weakness, which I started feeling on Saturday accentuated to
the extent that I could not attend some scheduled social functions. I felt like
running some tests but my Lab Scientists no longer worked on Sundays. I was indoors
throughout and decided to go straight to OOU Clinic on Monday morning. Around 9.30pm, I doubted if I
had the strength to drive down to school and luckily, Paul, my brother and a
professional driver offered to take me down to school and return to Lagos. You
see, because of the Ghost Town Strategy in the East, he was idle that Monday.
We drove straight to the Clinic and the doctor who prescribed a series of tests. The
lab people informed that the results would be ready at around noon but they
conducted one test, the result of which came out instantly. I suggested that I should wait for the whole
results before seeing the doctor but he said: ‘just show her this one
first’. When I saw the doctor, the tempo and body language changed and
the atmosphere became frenetic. The doctor referred me to OOU Teaching Hospital
and asked them to get the Ambulance ready. Ambulance? Somebody who worked throughout
Friday, drove down to Lagos on his own, performed my duties as a church warden
on Sunday and came to school on Monday with 1001 seminars, projects, and
results on my mind. How did I suddenly become an invalid and a candidate for
the ambulance? Na so this world be? Jesus Wept! However, I escaped the ambulance angle of the
story because, thanks be to God, my emergency driver, had not yet gone back to
Lagos as we originally planned.
Anyway,
that was how I ended up in Modified House Arrest at OOUTH, where
I was in captivity for 10 days and in full bondage
for 5 days. Captivity was the period I was under medical detention and bondage
was the period I was permanently ‘chained’ with drip-infusion
technologies. It was from house to school to the hospital and MHA within
6 hours. I slept or lay on the
bed or sat down on the chair, looked at the ceiling or the wall clock from AM
to PM, no reading, no writing and with one of my hands permanently shackled. And to complete the circle,
security-personnel were hovering around the corridor, and saying to me with
body language (which everybody learnt from PMB), ‘don’t try anything
funny! Furthermore, on 15/11/21,
after 8 days in captivity, when things had started looking up, and I wanted to
take a walk outside the ward and the nurse sternly told me: Don’t go beyond that he door unless you obtain
permission from my boss. You can see that it was a full-fledged medical
detention or confinement, the only difference being that I gave up myself! The funny thing was that even after the hospital
granted me bail, my family took over, detailing when and how I would
sit or stand, when I should wake up, sleep or even listen to news. That wanted
to practice John 21:18 with me but I told them it was too early.
John 21.18? Go find out!
I ended up at the emergency ward for the first
night. The doctors and nurses took over my affairs as a nurse cleaned me up (everything
and everywhere) on the first day (I was so down and out that I did not notice
her shape or face) and on the second day, I was so weak that I had to be
wheeled to the Male Medical Ward by another staff. I had initially enquired of
a private ward but on a second thought I decided to join the people
in the well-spaced male ward. For the 10
days of captivity, everything (wakeup, medication, cleaning-up, meals) was
determined by the medics whose uniforms exhibited a kaleidoscopic array of
colours (white, light and dark blue,
oxblood, green, yellow orange and khaki,), all indicating their professions,
group affiliations and status. Those in khaki were most prone to
throwing their powers about and that may be because they were called ‘orderlies’
and so, they must have learnt from police orderlies.
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Having
just been released on bail from medical detention, I want to share the
experiences and lessons with all. Nothing about routines (personal, family,
official and social) and even life itself is certain. I did not open my laptop
from 7/11/21 to 20/11/21 neither did I
check my mails until 26/11/21( what I did daily since I became ‘computerised’
about 25 years ago); my WhatsApp involvement fell by 95%’; all my writings, light
and heavy research, records, official and personal engagements and appointments became automatically suspended. I never knew
this was possible. My head was aching as
if a diesel-engine Moris Minor was
climbing a hill within. Thus, even
picking my phone was dreadful. My prayer life changed from struggling to make
it 1 hour in the morning to limitless hours, day and night. The Litany
verses that appealed most to me were: Health of the sick, consolation of
the afflicted, friend of sinners and help of Christians. Indeed, nobody
knows tomorrow.
The
Ward, my place of captivity, was a leveller. Everybody, (big small, retirees,
academics and illiterate, educated, young, old, poor and rich) was subjected to
the same regime and environment, served
from same kitchen and store, and nobody bothered because the major objective
was survival. It was a kibbutz-community, sharing resources including
consumables, and assisting those who were weaker or aloney. There was this lady
Maryam, who came to take care of her husband but she made it a point of duty to
attend to and serve everybody who needed any form of assistance. There was an
affluent patient who adopted another patient and paid all his bills, even after
he (the big man) had been discharged. There was the ‘landlord’, who had spent 5weeks
+, who supplied hot water, to the entire community, a task I took over when he
left. Another looked like a Baale, holding court with his courtiers, citizens,
wives and children all over the place. There were old men in diapers, some
strapped to their beds, some helpless, some could not walk and some could not pay their bills, some wailing
in pains and even dangling unmentionable things. The concern was survival.
One
night, my neighbour was shouting in pains and tears: I want to die; I am
tired; I want to go and rest and for sure in the AM, he had died. The nurse explained that he needed blood and
dialysis, which his family could not afford. The man was killed by
poverty. I wondered whether I could have been of help but I had no idea.
I wept for the dead and in thanksgiving to God
because my case was minor. I regretted that I did not have
a direct line with these TV miracle-workers, who would have just said it and it
would come to pass, because there was real work for them in the hospital. But
can they do a thing? Will they even want to do anything off the stage where
they and their patients are mostly actors. That day, I began my own ‘ward-round’
encouraging my colleagues, and intervening where I could. There were two
students in the Ward, (from UI-Computer Science) and LASPOTECH- Bus. Admin) and
the one from UI was prancing up and down as if he were on a picnic. Different
strokes… One day, one of our distinguished citizens dressed up, parked his
things and said he had had enough. And
sure, the doctor agreed with him and discharged him that day. I also learned
that this online thing was real as my daughter was ordering diverse types of food
for me from her office in Lagos, and they were delivering.
I also got an idea of how we manage free
things. A lady brought fruit salad and desperately wanted me to buy. I had seen
one nurse haggling with her and as the Spirit directed me, I asked her to give
to all the nurses. I saw about 6 nurses there, about 10 meters from me but when
she came back, she said they told her they were 13! I paid and that was
that. I wasn’t sure the thing got to the
other nurses because nobody acknowledged it that day or any other day. First, the number was doubled and second, the
item was probably hoarded and or privatised. Did that remind you of our Coro palliatives?
Our
people have up to 6 proverbs that prioritise people ( relations, friends,
colleagues and neighbours) over wealth( mmadu ka aku; mmadu
ka eji aka, onye nwelu mmadu ka onye nwelu ego etc). I
did not know that I was so valued and cherished. Three of my former M.Sc
students visited twice daily with food and all sorts. Current and former PG students also came
calling and Dr Essien, an omonile at Shagamu was regular. Dr Adebiyi from UNILAG visited twice, the
first daub to check-up on me and the second to sign my bail bond.
His mother in-law also came calling, offering to provide anything needed to
make my captivity more comfortable. Two Children of My Colleague, Dr Ariyo, ( both
medical students at OOUTH) were there 24/7. And then, the heavyweight
roll-call: The DVC,( Acad), Prof Agboola, who represented the VC, The Dean of Student Affairs( Dr Oladimeji),
Director of Entrepreneurial and General Studies( Prof Oladoja), Director of
OOU Ventures ( Prof Abosede) and a
three-man delegation( made up of two women) from my department were there. The
Dean, Prof ROC Somoye came calling after I hade been discharged. The Unknown
Young Man, who later became my family friend came with his wife, child and a
friend and offered to stay in the hospital with me. Of course my relations were there but they had no choice.
And my
fellow ‘detainees’ were taking note. One day, my immediate neighbour
asked me‘ who are you? I looked askance and said he had seen
several people coming and asking: what do you need; what can we bring for
you and you always replied: I am ok. I told him I was ( and am) a
lecturer. On the day I was discharged, another colleague asked: what post
do you hold in this government? Me;Post
in this Government? I asked him what gave him the idea and he replied
the number and kind of people who kept on checking on you, I told him I was an ‘ordinary
lecturer’.
My
friends, colleagues, students and relations made me look BIG but that
notwithstanding, I had a white book that contained the names of
all those who did not visit, who did not call, who did not stay long enough,
who promised to come again but failed to do so and students who were asking me
about their seminar papers while I was in captivity. I told one of them that he was in the list!
Released
from MHA… Left with infusion logistics
The
day I was released, I had one or two issues bothering me and then, saw the
corpse of one of my ‘colleagues’, being wheeled to the morgue. It was at this
stage that I squeezed my ‘list of sinners’ and threw it into the
dustbin. I wept for him and thanked God
for my lucky escape. I ran as fast as my
feet could carry me, lest somebody should call me back. I was in such a hurry to escape that I forget
a part of the infusion technology attached to my right arm for the whole 10
days. It was in Lagos that I noticed it! Luckily, when my case was called up on
30/11/21 and 2/12/21, they did not revoke my bail. I am a free man now; it is
the lords doing. I am gradually trying return to my routines, including
covering the arrears that had accumulated.
Well,
a teacher is a reader, always trying to learn. While in captivity, I saw a door
labelled Sluice room. Abeg, those of you who are Englishists
and Medics, wetin be Sluice?
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What an experience! Glory be to God you're well and free to relay it all. Remain free and blessed sir.
ReplyDeleteGood to have you back Chief...
ReplyDeleteGod will keep you longer...
Thanks to God you completed the turn. May your bail not be revoked or canceled. I am happy that you squeezed and threw away the white list because I perceive that I am one of those deserving of a corner in it. Stay well.
ReplyDeleteGlory be to God for Health
ReplyDeleteSo grateful to God you are back on your feet.
We thank God Almighty for the total healing, I have missed reading from you and never knew you were sick. I pray the healing will be permanent.. Amen. Welcome back sir !
ReplyDeleteThank God.
ReplyDeleteYou went to the brink but did not look in.
Wow!! Thank God for health
ReplyDeleteMy brother, so you went through all these. To God be the glory that He healed you .
ReplyDeleteThank God for healing. Perfect healing ijn
ReplyDeleteDoc, it's hard to say; It's Unbelievable That You Underwent This . The reason is obvious. That's how the STAGE is.
ReplyDeleteBut what baffles is how you were able to acutely record and deliver the story. Sincerely thank God that it's not the type of arrest that you'd have been charged, tried and convicted
I doff, Ichie Ezechikwado.
Mazi Emeka.
This is serious. Thank God for His healing Mercy and love. Welcome back Dr .
ReplyDeleteAll day Long 😉 Life Goes On 😊
ReplyDelete