I feel so sad now. Often than not, what we do estranges us, disconnects us from the custom of average life and unconsciously bestows on us some factitious grandeur that only rapidly crumbles like lighted wax when we get momentarily disjointed from such work or hobby, when such horrific events hit close home. Some of us who have the unfortunate privilege of seeing many people die in both gentle and most cruel manner, both the young, the old and the middle-aged, the diseased and the fresh, have overtime become victims of this occupational hazard, this alienation from human feelings, from all empathy and softness, from the truth that not all accidents could be avoided, and from the reality of ill-fate. But this mutation of character and life is what I'd promised never to be a victim of, and to resist all my life.
Yesterday evening, as I was walking home with two of my friends, famished and tired as often, I saw a cluster of people in front of the Accident and Emergency section of the hospital, wailing frenzy and violently begging to be allowed to commit suicide. I beckoned on my friends, that we move in as we could perhaps help and as there was always a thing or two to be learnt from such cases.
A body of a young man lay lifeless in the ambulance. I didn't bother to ID him because he was dead.
Another woman was heavily bandaged and almost drowning in her own blood, another man had a deep cut on the forehead while two other young ladies were crying their hearts out on heavy bandages with clumps of blood all over them. There was ruckus everywhere!
I asked if there was a road traffic accident, and they said no. No fights, no mob action.
Then another patient who was practically frightened away from her sick bed cornered us to an angle and narrated to us that the victims where assailed with a cutlass while asleep by their brother who returned from abroad some days earlier. And that he vanished away after committing the heinous crime leaving one of his brothers dead and the others in fearsome states.
'But why didn't they restrict him if they knew he had mania?' My friend asked in a pretty much accustomed tone as we proceeded home of course with no further feelings, as usual.
I got to the hospital this morning, only to realise from my friend and colleague that Oliver was that victim. That Oliver, my former neighbour, a guy I very often drank and chatted with was cut brain open, without a cause by his brother who lived with them and whom I know also. Then I became utterly shaken
Rest in peace, Oliver.
Adieu, cheerful heart! At least, it's all we are taught to say!
May God save the others!
Sad!
Yesterday evening, as I was walking home with two of my friends, famished and tired as often, I saw a cluster of people in front of the Accident and Emergency section of the hospital, wailing frenzy and violently begging to be allowed to commit suicide. I beckoned on my friends, that we move in as we could perhaps help and as there was always a thing or two to be learnt from such cases.
A body of a young man lay lifeless in the ambulance. I didn't bother to ID him because he was dead.
Another woman was heavily bandaged and almost drowning in her own blood, another man had a deep cut on the forehead while two other young ladies were crying their hearts out on heavy bandages with clumps of blood all over them. There was ruckus everywhere!
I asked if there was a road traffic accident, and they said no. No fights, no mob action.
Then another patient who was practically frightened away from her sick bed cornered us to an angle and narrated to us that the victims where assailed with a cutlass while asleep by their brother who returned from abroad some days earlier. And that he vanished away after committing the heinous crime leaving one of his brothers dead and the others in fearsome states.
'But why didn't they restrict him if they knew he had mania?' My friend asked in a pretty much accustomed tone as we proceeded home of course with no further feelings, as usual.
I got to the hospital this morning, only to realise from my friend and colleague that Oliver was that victim. That Oliver, my former neighbour, a guy I very often drank and chatted with was cut brain open, without a cause by his brother who lived with them and whom I know also. Then I became utterly shaken
Rest in peace, Oliver.
Adieu, cheerful heart! At least, it's all we are taught to say!
May God save the others!
Sad!
Comments