Chapter One
About forty years ago Olumide Ogunbeshin was in modern three at Ipetu modern school, Ipetu Ijesha, Ipetu town on the outskirts of Lagos Nigeria. Ipetu town was an old little town that had become more like a family, had learned to respect each other and to rely on each other. Over the years the whole inhabitants had learned to respect each other and to co-operate with their neighbors for peacefulness of the town.
Ever since he began his Modern School education, he was known for his coolness. He never joined in any rampage neither did he make trouble for anyone. Added to these was the fact that he had always showed himself to be a good student by performing brilliantly in both academic and extra-curriculum activities, like soccer and lawn-tennis, and so when it was time for the election of new officers, the teaching staff body did not hesitate to choose him as the senior prefect, his father and mother were very proud of him. His father was one of the wealthiest and famous farmers in the town.
In the second term of his last year, his mother’s illness which had long been torturing her sprang up again. His father being rich and respected in the society was up to the task in past times, but this time the old medicine man who treated her couldn’t just take it upon himself to treat her any more, for he was afraid he was treating an unknown disease. On that Saturday morning, Olumide had just finished his breakfast and he was cleaning up his plates when he heard his father calling out on him, this was something he felt was unusual. His father was supposed to be having his breakfast and unless something serious had happened, his father would not shout on him in that manner. He had respected his father and feared him. It might be that he had done something wrong this morning, if it wasn’t something he did, it must be something out of the ordinary happening this good morning.
He washed his hand and ran hastily across the kitchen to the dining room, but he was not there. Olumide ran out again, and dashed into the passage, then into the sitting room; his father was there waiting for him, he was standing between the chair and the drawer at the far right. As he ran into the sitting room his father looked sharply at him, Olumide was scared, and sweating all over.
Olumide was feeling somehow uneasy, when he noticed the absence of his mother, his heart missed a beat. ‘It took you so long to get here? he asked. ‘I am sorry sir, I thought you were in the dining room having your breakfast’, his voice became shaky. Mr. Ogunbeshin noticed this and said, ‘okay it’s all right, Olumide nothing to fear about. Olumide knew his father noticed how his manner shocked him. ‘It’s just that your mother is having problems with her health again’.
His feet went dumb, he felt as if blood was drained out of his whole body. His mother’s illness had been persistent in the last six months and each time appeared it was dreadful. He was afraid of it. Now you’ll run along and call me the medicine man, you know him the one along Sikiru street’, said Mr. Ogunbeshin, in a more gentle but unsteady tone.
‘Y….Yes sir’, answered Olumide as sweat ran down his back in little streams. ‘Look calm down Olumide; it will be all right, okay? Come on, don’t be late’, he said urgingly. Olumide managed to move from the spot, his legs were just too heavy, they were almost immovable, he went reluctantly.
How he would have liked to run into that room, his mother lay helplessly, ‘I’ll go in and sit by her side and look straight into her eyes and I’ll just tell her that I love her. He thought as he ran towards the medicine man’s house in panic, stumbling over stones and colliding with some people, they stopped and shouted abuses at him, but when they saw he did not stop, they went away.
Olumide got to the medicine man’s house in about 15 minutes. As he approached the house he saw the old man outside his house, a long mouth-washing stick dangling from his lips.
He was wearing a cotton wrapper over his shoulder and around his waist, his traditional pajamas, was white with a flat rubber sandal. He was about 65 years old, a slender old man, but looked much like a 135 year old man. Olumide stood in front of him panting: Good morning, sir’, he looked up, a look of disapproval on his face as he turned toward turned towards Olumide. ‘Please sir, my mother is sick, my father said I should call you right now sir, it’s urgent! Olumide replied in a most hurried tone.
The Old medicine man responded in a rather unconcerned tone ‘But your father knows very well that I do not go out to treat patients early in the morning’, Olumide’s mouth turned dry, his face whitened, his hands became unsteady, his
thoughts were racing furiously ‘If this old foggy would not come and take care of my mother, it means my mother would die, does this old man think he can just delay and relax when my mother is suffering he’s got something else coming! He said after a few moments, ‘it is really serious sir, my father wants you to come right now, my mother is really in pain’, said Olumide trying to restrain himself from shouting. ‘Ok’, said the old medicine man, wait here and I will get my medicine bag.
He walked out of the house with a small shoulder bag, wearing a short sleeve caftan, and tie-dye pants. As they walked into the road Olu noticed how farinas appearance could fool anyone, he had a sprightly lilt to his walk, and as they walked he talked about other things to take Olu’s mind off his mother’s ailments.
He asked about his grades at school, the new village club events, one of farinas friends was contesting elections to the village council, and another was contesting re-election to the farmers growers Union, a group of local farmers who pulled together to market and distribute their products not only in the Ibadan, Ife, Elemosho, Ikokore, Eti Ossa and the Ipetu modu communities but also aiming to go south east and middle belt regions to allow bulk sales help reduce prices of local units at home for the individual farmers.
The problem farina said was that the farmers simply have way too much on their hands and inadequate support”. ‘Well enough of my complaints’ concluded farina, ‘what will you be doing after school goes on recess? I really will like to go on to Modern School, although father has not decided if he will pay for Modern School or not. Farina scratched his head and said, ‘I hope you have a really enjoyable summer’.
As they approached Mr. Ogunbeshin’s house, Olumide hastened and walked a few steps ahead of farina getting to the gate made of wood pallets and a bolt, painted a light shade of orange, green and white. He held the gate open for farina, Olumide walked him to the living room, a parlor with clean carpets and tall windows, it curtains drawn to allow light into the room. Mr. Ogunbeshin walked into the room as farina was about to take a seat. How is Busayo? Asked Farina’, Mr. Ogunbeshin a slight smile of relief on his face said, ‘come on in’ she is in here.
Karimu Farina followed him into Busayo Mr. Ogunbeshin room, on the bed was Busayo, her head propped up, sitting upright on several pillows, she seemed to be resting, he could hear slight breathing, he removed his small shoulder bag and placed it on the bed taking out what seemed to be a round metal ointment can, a bottle of medical alcohol, eucalyptus oil, plastic bag of tree bark and dry leaves chopped in small pieces, dry herbal leaves, cloves and a litany of miscellaneous items.
Farina placed Busayo’s hands in her hands, felt the warmth and rhythm of her pulse.
Placed his palm against her cheek, her face slightly lighting up in recognition, farina turned to Mr. Ogunbeshin and said I have some herbs to boil in water, on low heat for a little longer than tea maybe for an hour. Add water if it dries up before the sap has released most of it’s juice. Let her drink gradually half cup 3 times daily. If she does not get better in a day please take her to the hospital. I can not do anymore for her; I wish you all the best.
Mr. Ogunbeshin was shocked at what he just heard. ‘What do you mean? ‘You can’t leave her now, he had to plead. No, please Mr. Ogunbeshin, that is not what I meant, I was only saying it would be safer to take her to the hospital, they would have all kinds of drugs to treat her adequately’, he continued.
Okay, thank you sir, I’ll do what you said. Said Soji Ogunbeshin; ‘I sincerely wish I could do better than this but, I’ve done my best; I hope they’ll do well at the hospital’. He stood up to go, ‘goodbye Mrs. Ogunbeshin’, Farina said as he left the room. ‘Please get two yams from the store and give it to baba’, Soji motioned to Olumide, who quickly left the room.
When Olumide came back to the room, he found find his father sitting by Kike’s side holding her hands tenderly. He stood by them and watched; for a split second he thought about how he would feel if his mother happens to die: but he quickly dismissed that thought from his mind, such a ridiculous idea. Father what are we going to do now?’ he asked, looking for a way to erase the thought from his mind; ‘well you heard what Baba said; we’ll have to take her to the hospital’. ‘But I think we better start preparing for the hospital’, ‘go check if there is water in the flask, we may need some hot water, and a blanket, he added.
Olumide went out of the room. Soji Ogunbeshin was becoming impatient at the unchanging state of his wife, ‘Olumide, he called, ‘take this blanket’, he handed Olumide a large blanket, ‘together with the flask’ and place in the boot of the car; he gave him the car keys.
When Olumide came back, his father was carrying his mother out of her room; he helped him open the garage door from inside the house.
Mrs. Ogunbeshin was laid gently in the back of the car; the blanket was used to cover her and a pillow at each side.
Olumide finished locking the door and came over to open the garage outlet, the car came out slowly and gently, he locked the gate and joined his father in the front passenger seat. They were silent all through the journey the two of them busy with their thoughts. Mr. Ogunbeshin kept her under observation through the rear view mirror. Olumide also, looked at her while his father drove. It took them over 1 hr. to get to the state general hospital, a Saturday as it was, usually busier than other week days in the hospital.
As the luxurious Morris minor, 1967 model they were riding, passed a hall parked full of people ‘that’s, the children’s ward, the adults in the front said Mr. Ogunbeshin, slowing down now as they approached the adult ward entrance. Slowing down now as they approached the room for admission cards; Mr. Soji Ogunbeshin, stopped in front of the room, and walked quickly into the admissions room, there were many people there also waiting to see the doctor.
But as a popular and respected man, he only had to tell one of the attendants to get a card for Kikelomo Ogunbeshin. An old attendant, who had known Soji Ogunbeshin for a long time, was glad to render help to a person like Mr. Ogunbeshin. In a few minutes the card was ready. He got back in the car and drove further down passing a block of houses used by the clerks. He pulled up in front of the doctor’s consultation room.
Mr. Ogunbeshin got out opening the passenger door behind the driver’s seat motioning Olumide to do same; Olumide stretched a little as he got out of the car before quickly opening the back seat door, and lifting Mrs. Kikelomo Ogunbeshin gently into the hospital, each lifting her on one shoulder as they walked into the big room. ‘Lock the car and come along’, he said to Olumide. He did so. The hall was full of patients just like the children’s ward; there was a sickening odor of iodine and other drugs of different types.
There were patients with accident cases, natural illness and there were a few mentally disturbed ones too. There was a rowdy atmosphere about in the room. They secured a bench at the end of the hall, where Mrs. Ogunbeshin was laid, then he took the card to the sister nurse attending to the crowd of patients; she took the card in her small hand, and read it through. Looking up at Mr. Ogunbeshin she said’ another emergency’, you will have to wait until the doctor arrives.
‘What do you mean? This is an emergency! He pointed out. ‘I have eyes and they are in perfect condition’, she shouted above the noise in the room. ‘I am sorry, but this is of great emergency, I am sure you can help without the doctors attendance, at least you can do something; he said pleading. ‘Sorry mister, she spoke with exaggerated drawl, we have a lot of emergency cases, not only yours and besides the doctor is not even here yet, he is in the operations theater’. ‘Is there only one?’ There are two, the other one is not here yet’. ‘Now will you go and wait patiently for the doctor like a patient’. There was a jeering alarming noise at the other end of the room, stopping Soji Ogunbeshin from saying anymore. Another patient on the emergency list had just fainted, and the nurse dashed there to see what had happened.
He moved back to the bench where his wife lay helplessly in agony, she had opened her eyes; ‘I am very sorry Kike, abbreviating his wife’s name, how is the pain? ‘She shook her head, meaning ‘no change’. He knew that meant there was no improvement yet; he looked back at the little scene at the other end of the room, his eyes sorrowful, his mouth dried and thick, his tongue very bitter.
He managed to say ‘it will be alright dear; the nurse said the doctor would be ready, very shortly’. After some time the nurse came back to her seat, Soji noticed this and paced up to her again, ‘is it possible to have a stretcher for my wife to lay on, she is in real pain, and very uncomfortable’, ‘Yes’, she said, you can have a stretcher’, she said pointing to a stretcher in by a door to one of the rooms down the hallway.
As Soji Ogunbeshin picked up the stretcher and walked down the hallway to his wife, the nurse got up and walked to a shelve behind the admissions desk, picked out a bottle of what looked like aspirin took out two in a measuring cup, with a cup of water and walked to Kike Ogunbeshin; saying to Soji Ogunbeshin let her ‘take this, it should ease your pain before the doctor arrives.
The drugs did not do much, but she was able to speak a little after about 35minutes, She waved Olumide to her, gave him a painful smile, ‘You shouldn’t be afraid my son, I am going to all right my son, but just in case; take care of your father and yourself, you have always been a good boy in school and at home, ever since you entered high school, you have been doing very well, keep it up Olumide. And I know that you will be a success’. The road of life is very crooked, you cannot avoid its falls and whenever you fall you shall rise up my son.
Whatever you want to do, do it well, do not mix yourself with shady characters, she glanced up at him, he nodded back at her with a grateful little smile. Then she continued; ‘example is better than precept, that’s what people say, we have given you both’. ‘You are still ignorant to life’s miseries my son, but not too long, they will come along as you journey down the pathways of life. Life is miseries, when these miseries do come your way, remember my words’. ‘And may God be with you my son’.
Just then Olumide’s father who had been standing at the front door came in together with the doctor. There was a noticeable silence in the hall. Mr. Ogunbeshin came straight to his wife and pushed the stretcher forward; forcing his way through the crowd, but the doctor was already attending to another patient in his office.
Olumide stood beside his mother, shivering, his muscle becoming stiff, he saw the doctor when he came in and had gone first to the nursing desk, a man of average height, serious and masculine and cultivating a small beard and moustache, he wore a navy blue jacket with a white overall, he was the second doctor, who was supposed to be attending to them, although Olumide was relieved when he came in, he also had a feeling of disgust for him.
Olumide thought the doctor was an inefficient, lazy incompetent jack in office. He was also surprised that he came in with such ease, and was not even going to receive a query from anybody. Soji Ogunbeshin and Olumide, his son, stood there by Kikelomo Ogunbeshin, hoping to that they would get their own time to go in and see the doctor. But it was a long time before it was time for them to see the doctor.
Her condition had become more critical. Her temperature had risen; her eyes became sulky and dull. She was admitted to the hospital. But sadly and most unfortunate for Soji Ogunbeshin and his son, Mrs. Kikelomo Ogunbeshin could not stay another twenty more hours, as a living soul.
