PROFESSIONAL NEGLECT

Are they medical doctors or murderers?

Perhaps a 300-Level Biochemistry student, identified as John, would not have died if the Nigerian Medical Association (NMA) is not on strike. John was allegedly poisoned by a friend at an off-campus hostel. He returned to his hostel in pains, vomiting blood. Immediately, he was rushed to the University of Benin Teaching Hospital (UBTH). On getting there, there was no medical personnel to attend to the dying student. Doctors were on strike, the symphathisers were told. No first aid was administered on him. The poor John was left to writhe in pain.

He was then taken to the university Health Centre. Unfortunately, he gave up the ghost on the way. What a way not to die! What is the meaning of wickedness? How else can the brutality of mankind be felt?

Just because of pride and administrative recklessness, innocent lives are being lost. The President is fighting tooth and nail to end terrorism and Ebola. Now, NMA is pursing another agenda.

It was in grief that I wrote this piece about the ongoing doctors’ strike. If I had not lost a colleague, maybe I would not have given this article a thought.

A philosopher had once advocated death for all men as solution to the mischief they have caused to the world. In his time, corruption was a norm and a way of life. In his own reasoning, he prescribed death as the solution to the trouble he faced.

But it was evident that his solution was synonymous to the cynical attitude of the ostrich who buries his head below the sand in the site of trouble, while its other parts were exposed. This is the part that our Nigerian medical doctors have chosen to plough. The moment they really need their head to think, it is buried!

Doctors, who swore to the Hippocratic Oath to save lives, are the ones snuffing life out of the people through their self-serving strike. Just at the time the nation needs them the most, the doctors turn their back. Threatened by terrorism and the gruesome Ebola, the medical doctors are sitting in their houses while scores are dying. This is exactly what an illiterate man would do and will be termed a murderer. The so-called elite doctors, under the guise of NMA, are doing the same thing, with full immunity. They are well exercising their right to murder!

Since when did the NMA start passing by-laws for para-medical profession, such as Pharmacist Council of Nigeria (PCN) and other health workers association? Are these professions under the NMA? When will these doctors know that lives are more important than any other thing?

They’ve shown gross irresponsibility, fatuous ferocity and crass insolence. Leaving your responsibility as a life saver, all in the guise of helping the patient, you are now sentencing them to their early grave. Has it ever been told where the police force go on industrial action? No matter how corrupt a police force could be, their importance can never be downplayed. They are ‘essential workers’. They know their place.

They said pharmacists should not be called doctors. A pharmacist who graduated with a Bachelor in Pharmacy (Pham B) is not called a doctor, but those with a Pham D would be tagged doctors. They argued that Pham D would bring confusion to the hospital chain of command. Why have we not heard about the confusion in developed countries of the world were Pharm D certificates are also issued? This is nothing but a mere figment of their lustful imagination, driving them to a catastrophic, embarrassing and disappointing end.

Who are mostly affected by these actions? The poor. This is simply because most rich people have their personal doctors and can also afford the exorbitant fees of private hospitals owned by these same doctors who are on strike!

I began to ask myself whether our doctors are truly protectors of life as they claim, or merchants of death. I began to ask myself whether this group is humane or just a bunch of greedy wolves in sheep clothing. It’s really disheartening to know that the health and lives of the poor have been sold on the platform of individualism and overblown ego.

Indeed, strikes are anti-medical profession; this is because the ultimate job of the doctor is to care for the sick and save lives, even in its tiniest form. I have painstakingly read the grievances the doctors tendered for the recent strike. They are not just selfish, but a sign of myopic thinking. Let it be known that whatever you have sown, that you shall reap.

ARMED ROBBERY?

Armed robbery?

 The vehicle stopped abruptly. We had barely passed Ore. I was traveling from Benin to Lagos. I could not understand what was happening. Why would we stop at the middle of the road?

The next sentenced that woke me from my psychological slumber was “everybody come down”. Then all my ‘ignorantly’ driven innocence were replaced with ‘automatic giddiness’. I understood the obvious. Was I being robbed? My heart skipped as I tried to answer that question.

The men dressed in black jean,black shoes and a pair of dark glasses. Numbering about eight. They were armed to the teeth. Why would they be armed to such extent just to rob a bus on
its way to Lagos?At least these weapons were a total waste of ‘resources’.

Oh! My android phone. I screamed in my heart. I had just bought the recent model of the android series. The phone was just 3 days old. I was still in the melancholic state of having to lose my phone when my heart soberly reminded me of my ‘apple laptop’. I had gotten the laptop through ‘family efforts’ at a giveaway price of one hundred and eighty thousand naira. I almost got up to run to the bus to collect my laptop bag and head for the thick forest behind me. Another‘thought’ said I should bargain with the ‘men in black’ (MIB). Bargain? Was this a kind of a joke? Some funny thoughts usually come to your mind in very serious situation.

My face was glued to the ground as we were initially commanded. I then noticed I was becoming ‘too’ obedient, hence I decided to raise my head ‘a little’. They started searching the bags and luggage. They were just two bags away from mine. I consoled myself.They may take the laptop but the forty five thousand naira given to me by my uncle,safely kept in my pockets would suffice my emotions to ‘healing faster’. Surely, I was not traveling light!

Almost immediately, one of MIBs (MEN IN BLACK) started searching the passengers. Ah! I would be

leaked up by these guys! I exclaimed. I started re-considering the possibility of dashing into the forest;they could have my laptop while I escape with my phone and the money. At least, that would be 50-50.

Before takeoff, I noticed the driver of our bus not lying on the ground. He was standing majestically with the ‘men’ discussing in low tones.Yoruba persons would exclaim‘yeeekpa’!

“We have been sold out by our driver. First lesson, don’t board a vehicle not registered in a park!”---- I told myself.

One of the ‘men’ caught me spying at them and he marched towards my direction, cocking his gun on the way. I then remembered that I had disobeyed his instruction. Was I going to be shot?

My laptop, my money, my phone and now my life? No way, I can never allow that, not without a fight. I decided to take a powerful-backward-leap into the bush, although not knowing where I was running to but surely knowing what I was running from, and at the moment, this was the most important.

So there, about to run;

The man coming towards me stopped and with his coarse voice he said“All stand”, I could not believe my ears. I stood with quivery legs. He continued by saying “I would do anything I have said before, so please do not dare disobey any of my instructions”.

as this the opening speech to my shooting? I was disquieted. He continued, “Anyway, we are men from the Nigerian police force. We were tipped off about an imminent terrorist attack that was going to occur on the Benin Lagos road, hence we are here to make sure any of you are not carrying explosives, we are sorry for …”

any inconveniences we may have caused you

I felt funny! I smiled. ‘Mixed’ feelings. My emotions could not accommodate such. So my laptop and all my financial and electronic appendages are safe… I fainted.

Another fiction!Let not your heart be troubled. Fear usually comes first to our mind when we are in difficult situations;always try to make it the first to leave.

Nothing is as important as our ‘inner decorum’. No matter how much you lose;never be troubled!

EZEKIEL THE TEACHER; MARY, MARY WHY ME

EZEKIEL THE TEACHER: “…MARY, MARY, WHY ME!”

I just finished secondary school and I was so raring to be self-dependent. After much deliberations, I decided that ‘teaching’ was the best option. This ‘young-looking-self dependent-boy’ carved out his application letter in the most artistry manner and then marched into the nearest primary school. I was directed to the principal’s office. I sat down with an air of confidence and my usual smiles beaming out ‘assurances of hope’.

After reading my application letter the principal said “young boy, you are very smart and clever, I should have given you the job but your height doesn’t match your academic excellence”. Oh! I exclaimed. “Common, don’t judge by the outwards but judge righteous judgment, man looketh at the outwards, please look at the inwards, sir”.

This my ‘academic excellence’ as he puts it, was judged by the way my application letter was written (I had an oxford dictionary then) and not by certification or qualification. I had no certificate yet!

“Any way”, she continued, “let me test your teaching skills, if you teach very well you would have the job”.

“Good”! I said to myself. I applied all the comic techniques I had accumulated during my secondary school days to teach the pupils and by the time I was done they were all reeling in laughter. Just then the principal came in to ask “do you like your new teacher?” They all chorused “Yeeeeeees”!

“I made it”, I said to myself. To the best of my knowledge, I was the ‘best-youngest-self-dependent-teacher’. I was 16 years old at that time.

One challenge was that I didn’t tell my parents before embarking on this job seeking campaign. He immediately placed me on a 3,500 monthly salary. I actually had no choice. I was to resume that same day.

After the introduction to the job in the principal’s office, I was on my way to the class to start my duty when the proprietor came around to inspect the school. She immediately mistook me for a primary six pupil who was dressed on mufti. “Come here”,she said in a commanding tone. “Where is your uniform”? She added without waiting for my reply.

I looked back to see if there was any one behind me. When I realized that there was no one behind, I smiled. Coming closer to me,she said “Who are you smiling at”? She grabbed the nearest cane and was pacing towards my direction.The principal on noticing the opprobrium hollered “he is a teacher oh!”

I was speechless and dump founded, embarrassed, shocked and humiliated.

The proprietor had to fire me that same day of my employment on the note that I was too short for the job. This was after giving me a 500 naira compensation.

As I walked home I began to think about the embarrassment I just received. All in the search for self-dependency.

I told my parents and they frowned at my ineptitude, they then placed me on house arrest with a monthly allowance of 3000 naira. At least, that was irrespective of my height.

But few weeks later, I persuaded them that I couldn’t stay idle, “an idle mind is the devils workshop”.

It is an evil thing to be the devils workman, not to talk of his own workshop! “Please Dad, let me go and look for a job”. This time, he helped me got one.

He told a friend who called their own friend, who was a principal and then I was able to secure a teaching job where I met Mary.

Mary was a smart, brilliant and beautiful girl; she caught my attention immediately I entered the class. It was the primary one class.

Mary’s elder sister was in the primary 5 class. I usually teach her class whenever their teacher ran out of idea on how to resolve some of their mathematical exercises. I won her (Mary’s sister) a lot of leverage and she was spared from several punishment during episodes of her misdemeanor.
Mary was a ‘noise maker’ and this caused me a lot of trouble as my class was opposite the principal’s office. The principal would always yell, “Why is your class noisy”?
The use of Cain was prohibited. “Punishment is better”; the principal always ingeminated during staff meetings.

On this fateful day, Mary as usual, began her ‘noise-crusade’. I commanded her to kneel in front of the class which she obediently did. I was immediately sent on an errand by the principal and this took me a while to return. I apologized for making her kneel for so long. I felt the duration she knelt was too much for ‘meager’ offences like noise making; after all, I was a noise baron during my primary school days. She went to her seat grudgingly.

The very next day; after giving a few examples on the black board, I decided to have take a break. I commanded the class to rest their head on the desk. They all obeyed.
After a while; say about 30 minutes, (I cannot recollect the exact duration). I decided to give the class an exercise to do. “All stand”. They all did, except for some pupils who were already asleep. “Wake them up” I said in a harsh tone. They woke up except Mary, I went hurriedly to her and shook her with all the energy left in me, yet she wasn’t waking!

I dashed to the principal’s office. “Sir, Mary refused to wake”.“What do you mean” he replied with shock and anger written all over his face. He came to the class and saw her presumed lifeless body on the desk. He ordered every pupil out of the class. Mary’s sister was asked if Mary had an underlying ailment. This she objected to. The clock ticked, yet Mary was still in wonder land. Her legs, hands and her eyes were moving. She wasn’t dead, she wasn’t asleep and she wasn’t awake either.

The principal gave her series of slaps that would deafen a full grown man, yet this girl moved no muscle!  Everyone started giving their solutions to the problem, a teacher said; “let us put fire in her legs she would definitely wake”, another teacher countered the idea as that was too gross.
The intricacies of having to bring Mary back to life (or in this case-- awake), was unknown to me, as I was not spiritually inclined; carnal boy! I couldn’t pray. My eyes were now red and watery. The principal started his tongues; “…rabababababata, Maryyyyyy, wake uuuuuupppp!
Hmmm, she remained ‘deadish’.

Just then Mary’s elder sister called me aside and asked, “Did you offend Mary”? I hurriedly answered, “No, I didn’t”. After a while, I remembered yesterday’s experience where she had to kneel for so long. Oh yes; I explained Mary’s experience the previous day to her.
“Mary is trying to get her pounds of flesh” she said in low tones. “…Mary! Mary, Oh! Why me, didn’t I apologize”? Hot tears rolled down my cheek…and Ezekiel wept.

She then narrated to me how Mary’s mom had slept for more than 24 hours and ‘refused’ to wake the day after her husband had treated her badly; I also learnt that she (Mary’s elder sister) was Mary's step sister.
It has been 3hours since Mary’s hibernation. 3hours of rest and fun for her but pain and anguish for me. Almost the same duration she spent kneeling yesterday.
The principal sent for Mary’s mother and she reluctantly came. The principal had to send me home before the arrival of Mary’s mom.
 

A fellow teacher later explained to me how Mary’s mom had asked for my whereabouts and that Mary woke up immediately her mother called at her.
I told my parents when they returned, they prayed for me and admonished me to be closer to God and that God had saved me from Mary’s plan. The next morning, I woke up as early as I cleaned my dusty bible; as I read, Genesis 1:1 “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth”. A true Christian was born.
I tendered my letter of resignation at the end of the month.