Archive for April, 2012


                        Room 911 (Revisited)

“What has the number 911 got to do with you?”

  “911 translates into September 11, and it was the day those terrorists killed so many innocent people in New York City. My brother was among the dead.”

“So many other innocent people were also killed, not just your brother alone. By the way, had it been that the events of 911 had taken place in a poor African country, do you think it would have received this massive press coverage?”

 The nurse continues,

“You know what? The reason why it attracted such a massive press coverage was not because of the number of casualties, but because of the fact that, the king of the forest had been wounded by termites!”

“Aren’t you sorry for those who lost their lives in such a barbaric attack?”

“No doubt, it was a lamentable occurrence. But I do also feel sorry for those poor women and children of Africa and elsewhere who die every day due to hunger, malnutrition and AIDS. Just imagine what the world would have been if it had united against AIDS, poverty, and hunger as it now does against terrorism.”

“Do not link 911 and the widespread deprivation in Africa caused by Africans themselves.”

“Do not also try to link 911 and the room numbers in our hospital.”

Their argument about 911 became so nasty that I became nervous. I wondered why Abudu would come to visit me in the hospital only to have himself and other nurses argue about my room number. I had always believed that Abudu, who seemed to have been a well-brought-up individual, is as decorous alone as he is in public. Wasn’t he the same person who delayed my arrival at this hospital? If he is so concerned about my well-being, why didn’t he make sure that I arrive here on time to receive a timely attention? All I know about this man is that, he has been a roué, he is immoral. Despite the fact that he is a married man, he has seduced many women and dropped them for new conquests. Am I now his next target?

As I continued to agonize over my predicament, tears begun to flow freely down my cheeks How, on earth, could I have gotten myself ensnared by this dissolute man? I have only myself to blame. But how could I resisted his friendship when he seemed to care so much about my progress, especially after my Dad, who had been a business executive, became so déclassé to the point of working as a night watchman due to adverse circumstances? A nurse  rushes in, handing over my bill, he says:

“Get ready, its time to go home.”

To Be continued…

And here’s the last part of the ant philosophy. How much will an ant gather during the summer to prepare for the winter? All he possibly can. What an incredible philosophy, the “all-you-possibly-can” philosophy.

Wow, what a great philosophy to have—the ant philosophy. Never give up, look ahead, stay positive and do all you can.

The third part of the ant philosophy is that ants think summer all winter. That is so important. During the winter, ants remind themselves, “This won’t last long; we’ll soon be out of here.” And the first warm day, the ants are out. If it turns cold again, they’ll dive back down, but then they come out the first warm day. They can’t wait to get out.

                                               Room 911

 “Who’s that man?”

   “He’s a police officer.”

   “What makes you say that?”

   “I saw his police badge.” She whispers.

 Folding her arms, she says with trepidation: “Then I’m finished.” The officer is coming out of the restroom now. The chief nurse is moving toward him as fear and anxiety gnaws at her heart. She’s now trying to put on a veneer of politeness. Gnashing his teeth in rage, he says:

 “Why didn’t you tell us you were a police officer immediately you entered this ward? I would have personally seen to it that your relative was given an express service.”

 Behaving like a demonstrative toadying dog, she instructs the junior nurses to quickly take me into the observation room on a stretcher. As soon as I was inside of it, I counted about five nurses around me. Each of them tried to make me feel comfortable. All this while, my thoughts were with that old lady who was left to flounder in a morass of inefficiency and corruption. After being administered a sedative injection, I subsequently fell asleep.

 It’s now daybreak, I’m still in my bed. I hear a voice that seems like that of Abudu. I ask myself: “What does this man got to do with me after having treated me like his pet?” He’s asking the nurses about a young pretty girl who was admitted to the hospital yesterday.

 “Where’s that girl who was admitted here yesterday?”

 “She’s in room 911.”

  I hear him shout on top of his voice.

   “Do you say room 911?”

  “Yes, you heard me alright!”

  “Please get that girl out of that room immediately, it’s an evil number.”

   “Sir, you cannot come over here and dictate to us what should be done to you relative.” 

    “Sorry, but…”

    “But what?”

    “I’m just worried she’s in room 911.”

To be continued…

Second, ants think winter all summer. That’s an important perspective. You can’t be so naive as to think summer will last forever. So ants gather their winter food in the middle of summer.

An ancient story says, “Don’t build your house on the sand in the summer.” Why do we need that advice? Because it is important to think ahead. In the summer, you’ve got to think storm. You’ve got to think rocks as you enjoy the sand and sun.

 

Its imperative for everybody to study ants. They have an amazing four-part philosophy. The first part: Ants never quit. That’s a good a philosophy. If they are headed some where, and you try to stop them, they will look for another way. They will climb over, they’ll climb under, they’ll climb around. They keep looking for another way. What a neat philosophy to never quit looking for  a way you are supposed to go!

                            Black Pride?

“It isn’t my business to know where Rome is, officer. After all, how many of those white men in Rome(wherever it is located, care to know where Ghana is situated on the world map?”

   With a sardonic grin, expressive of disdain, she continues: “Why is it that we have a penchant for knowing where the white man lives, what he eats or drinks, where he sleeps, and even the names of his dogs?”

   “I’m very impressed about your sense of black pride. But why haven’t you translated that into eradicating the rot in this ward.”

   “What rot.”

   “I mean the corruption; the inefficiency; and the general apathy toward the sick.”

   “I’ve already made it clear to you that I don’t want lose my job. You should bear with me.”

   “Well…well…I forgot to ask your name.”

   “Call me Belinda.”

   “By the way, what’s the name of the chief nurse?

   “She’s Mrs. Emma Brown.”

   As I sit beside the old woman on the floor, and trying to help her through her ordeal, I see a glossy midnight-blue BMW sedan pull up. Without hesitation, two of the nurses inside the emergency ward are rushing out with a stretcher. The lady at the back is quickly put on the stretcher and pushed away into another compartment of the ward. The driver of this sedan never bordered to even step out of the car. He drives away immediately. I only heard him telling one of the nurses that “his boss will be talking to their boss later.”

I realize the lady sent away on the stretcher is white. She didn’t even have to register. Moments before her arrival, I did over here a phone conversation between the chief nurse and someone on the other end: “Where are they now?” She asked. “Are they on their way here? She’ll be fine. We’ll accord her the necessary attention that befits a woman of her caliber.”

   As soon as the officer darted into the restroom to respond to nature’s call, the chief nurse stood up from her chair by the doorway and walked straight to the clerk at the information counter.

To be continued…

You Can Do It!

 

keep reminding yourself that you have tremendous reservoirs of potential within you, and therefore you are quite capable of doing anything you set your mind to. All you must do is figure out how you can do it, not whether or not you can. And once you have made your mind up to do it, it’s amazing how your mind begins to figure out how. And that’s worth thinking about.

Difficult Things

 

 

It is not because things are difficult that we do not dare; it is because we do not dare that they are difficult.

 

                      Is Rome the capital of Hungary?            

“Of course yes.”

   Taking out a lipstick and a tiny mirror from her side pocket, she retorts insolently:

   “Then let her sit down over there and wait!”

   Her peremptory command irritates the officer and even some of her colleagues.

   “Are you here for a beauty contest or to help take care of the sick?” The officer asks sarcastically.

     “It’s none of your business. Shut up over there!” She says.

      ” I’ve got a son who’s almost your age.”

   “No. Never.”

   “Then say whatever pleases you. You risk making that your sister or who ever she is sitting here till daybreak without being attended to. Unless you are ready to do something

   “Do what?” It’s been three and a half hours since Abudu’s car had a flat tire. Here am I again. I’m cut up in another mess. What a bad day! I say.

   The officer is taking something out of his pocket. Is he taking out money to pay our way through? I’m wondering. He is walking toward the information desk.

   “Please can I talk to the chief nurse?” He says.

   “You can’t talk to the chief nurse. What’s your problem?” The lady sitting at the counter replies.

   Showing his police badge to the lady, he says: “This is my problem.”

   “Okay. She’s the one sitting over there and painting her lips.”

   “There are three of them painting their lips. Which of them?”

   “That one sitting on the right side of the door leading to the main entrance.”

   “Do you mean that lady I was just arguing with?”

   “Yes, sir, but I don’t think she knew you were a police officer.”

   “What would she have done if she knew I was an officer?”

   “She would have given you a special treatment.”

   “Special treatment for God’s sake! What do you mean by that?”

   “I mean she would have treated you better.”

   “What better?”

   “She would have instructed the nurses to attend to that lady you brought in promptly.”

   “So what of those sick people sitting on the floor. What’s their fate?

   “They’ll all soon be attended to.”

   “How long will it take all of these patients to get prompt attention. Is this not an emergency ward?”

   “Yes it is. But…”

   “But what?”

   “You know many people walk into this emergency ward without enough money to…”

    “Without enough money to pay for registration?”

    “No. Enough money to get things done for them quickly.”

   “Okay. What’s her name?”

   “Are you trying to produce a watertight alibi to exonerate her from all responsibility for her conduct?”

   “No. But…” She’s scratching her hair. She’s unable to continue.

   “Stop scratching your hair and talk to me. But what?” The officer insists.

   “I don’t want to lose my job. I’m obliged to swim with the tide.” With complacency and satisfaction beaming in her countenance, she continued: “

   “When inRome, do like the Romans!”

   “Don’t be silly. Do you even know where Rome is?”

   “Is it not the capital of Hungary, no, Austria?”

“My brother even sends me money from that place.” She continued.

   “From where?

   “From Rome, in Austria!” She replies with confidence.

   “You should be ashamed of your self that you don’t know where Rome is.”

 To be continued…