LABYRINTHS - FOURTEEN

                It was almost 2pm when I got ready to return to the hospital. I went up to Abbey’s room and took her phone and her wallet. The wallet contained a wad of notes, most probably mine. But I didn’t take it for my sake; I took the phone and the money in case they came in handy at the hospital.

                I went straight to Doctor Biola’s office to inquire if I could see Abbey. I asked how Abbey was and she said she was stable, but still in coma. But Doctor Biola said there was nothing to worry about, that Abbey would wake up any minute. I asked if I could see her and she gave me the nod... only that I should be as discreet as possible... the third door by my left down the passage on the right. I left Doctor Biola’s office and went in search of Abbey’s private ward. When I rushed her here I didn’t even know where they took her, and I hadn’t seen her since then. After the turn to the passage now, one... two... third door by my left, I opened it gently... An oxygen mask covered her nose and mouth; drip attached to her arm, and she was asleep. I went in and took the empty chair by the bed provided for visitors or attendants to the right side of the bed so I could hold her free arm. The picture of her helpless state endeared her to me all the more. Whatever it was she had, to me, it didn’t look like she deserved it. But that’s nature; shocking us every inch of the way. Why do the good suffer? Some people die of simple ailments just because they cannot afford hospital bills; for those who have the money to pay for their health care, their diseases defy the doctors... so that, either way, your life’s not in your hands. Everyone has to shed tears – the haves and the have-nots.

                I started to whisper to her just like Isabelle had whispered to me. Maybe in South Africa the sleeping could hear whispers!

                “I got you, Abbey. I got you. I will be here for you, to see you through this. Isn’t it said that everything happens for a reason? Guess our paths crossed for a reason. Maybe it’s so I could be your beacon of support in this lonely world of yours. You... the most deserving of company, the most deprived of it. It’s tough for any soul to journey through the world alone. You’re a strong woman, Abbey; you could do it all on your own... but you don’t need to anymore. I’m here now. I’ll take care of you....”

My eyes were becoming teary, and I wiped them with the back of my hand.

There was a knock on the door. It opened briskly. In came Biola and Isabelle. We exchanged pleasantries. Isabelle and I hardly spoke... but our eyes said many words... mine searching hers, hers retreating, hurting, jealous. She’d seen the mood, and reckoned Abbey still held sway.

                “Thought I’d meet you here,” I said to Isabelle.

                “You could have, if you’d come a little later. I went over to her office first... before coming here.”

                “Oh, that didn’t occur to me,” I lamented.

                “Of course not!” she interjected. Isabelle was acting up.

Biola held my shoulder and said, “She’ll be fine.”

And I was so glad... so grateful to hear that.

                They stayed for a while... Doctor Biola scrutinizing the colloidal solution in the miniature bag, and confirming it was trickling slowly into Abbey’s bloodstream as it should. She hit the thin hose with her finger – doctor fashion – to shake off whatever particle might be blocking the way. Then both women left. Isabelle must have had a hard time shielding her questionable countenance from Biola... or maybe Biola would think it was all about Abbey’s circumstance. Well, maybe it was. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I wasn’t such ‘prize’ after all, and Isabelle didn’t really care about me. Maybe all she wanted was sex – Nigerian flavour – which she got.

                They left me with Abbey, and I thought Biola must have concluded we were dating. But I thought it was unprofessional for her to leave me alone with her helpless patient. Was the fact that I rushed her here enough assurance that I was interested in her well-being? What if I’d poisoned her but didn’t want her to die on my hands? What if I strangled her in the hospital for pecuniary motives? But, obviously, no one suspected fowl play; Abbey being here was probably routine... reason for all the hush hush around me... reason for all the she has to tell you herself. Perhaps this had happened before. Perhaps not once. Perhaps she was here while I was watching the World Cup Qualifiers back home in Nigeria lounged on a couch... before I’d even dreamed I’d be at the finals.

                Abbey’s right hand still in mine, I dozed off on the chair. How long? I felt someone standing close to me. Opening my eyes I saw Biola.

                “You still don’t have an idea what’s going on, right?” she asked.

                “I still don’t,” I said, wiping my eyes and yawning at the same time. “I still don’t. But I don’t mind now... she should just get well... that’s my priority.”

                “Yeah,” she said with resignation, “that’s all our prayer. And we pray that she’d be spared this...” she didn’t finish; her eyes gazing into space. And she seemed to doubt her own prayers.

Does God answer prayers said in doubt? I doubt.

I looked up at her and wondered what all this could mean.

                “What part of Nigeria are you from,” she asked.

                “I’m from Enugu State,” I said. “I’m Ibo.”

                “I’m Yoruba,” she said. “From Ogun State.”

                “Hm!” I snorted, “Uncle Sege’s state... But you don’t look like it.”

                “How do you mean?”

                “I thought beauty had nothing to do with folks from your part of the country.”

She laughed, then said, “Is it because of Obasanjo?”

                “And Agagu!” I added.

She laughed again, and then said, “But then, there’s OGD.”

                “Who or what’s OGD?” I asked.

                “Otunba Gbenga Daniel.”

                “Oh, the current governor, right?”

                “Yeah.”

                “Well, that doesn’t necessarily help... It’s seeing you now that does.”

                “I take that as a compliment. Thanks!”

                “Please do,” I said, “for it’s such an obvious fact. Your beauty’s all over the place.” I said this eyeing her magnificent hips.

The first time we met, she was wearing her lab coat because she had just resumed and was being taken around to be acquainted with patient situations. All she wore now was a dark, tight-fitting skirt and a white bodice with shirred embroideries.

                “Could you ever... leave Abbey’s side?” she said rather curiously.

                “Like how?” I said.

                “Like... right now... since she’s not awake... Could we go to my office?”

I looked at Abbey’s face... and wanted to say... please don’t keep your face like that, for when you do, you remind me of the dead...

                “Sure, I can,” I said to Biola.

Then I got up and followed the Nigerian woman.

                In her office we talked at length... about Nigeria... her political and economic problems, and offered our ‘ignorant’ opinions... How one man couldn’t possibly change Nigeria just because he was president, because corruption had eaten deep into the fabrics of the entire society. Corruption was the norm, for the average Nigerian worker always looked for ways to cut corners. Young men without opportunities had lent themselves to a life of crime, especially internet fraud. Young women littered the night streets hawking their bodies... and at ridiculously cheap prices. During my Youth Service I’d contemplated doing a TV documentary on a sub-urban town of Abuja called Mararaba. Demolition of illegal buildings in-city had pushed thousands to find shelter in Mararaba. Consequently, there was pedestrian traffic snarl in that town. It was like China. And one in every six girls you saw was probably a whore... All didn’t necessarily stand out on busy streets at nights... there was door-to-door prostitution... and then girls had multiple boyfriends. These boyfriends, in one way or the other, paid for the sex they had with the girls. But that wasn’t strange in Nigeria. Every young man paid for sex in Nigeria, be it with a prostitute or not. If you weren’t financially supportive of your girlfriend she left you. Poor university boys who couldn’t afford girls either shared their girls with rich Aristos, or went without them. And all these were indirect consequences of years of bad leadership in the country. How could one man, just by being president, help the situation? The educational system needed amending; jobs needed to be created, accountability and transparency in public offices had to be entrenched and, ultimately, the electoral system that even produced the president had to be worked on.

                For me, I just thought... and believed that, once an example was made of one corrupt public official, everyone else would sit up. Like... prosecute and sentence a public service criminal... without endless adjournments and dilly-dallying around.

                I’d heard of the Beijing Olympics that... anyone who produced an unauthorised copy of any official souvenir was charged with treason and sentenced to death by hanging. No one needed to dare the government for, that same year, an official of their food and drugs agency – an outfit like Nigeria’s NAFDAC – had been hanged for a crime related to the dumping of fake and counterfeit drugs in Nigeria. It was Professor Dora Akunyili’s tireless campaigns that woke the Chinese government.

China’s existence was a threat to many economies of the world, yet their own domestic economy was nothing fantastic. They just seemed to be spoilers. I had a friend in Abuja who sold curtains for a living. Beautiful quality curtains were pretty dear, and people who had good taste patronized him. Some dubious merchants went to him and took samples, saying they were contractors and wanted to show the samples to clients. They went to China instead and, in a matter of weeks, produced cheaper qualities of the kinds of curtains they took, and my friend’s sales plummeted.

                Made in China mobile phones also flooded phone markets... Was this strategy or was it robbery! I can’t tell... but I battle with the possible implication in the light of what Ayn Rand said of money thus: Money demands that you sell, not your weakness to men's stupidity, but your talent to their reason. Dear Reader, judge.

                I seemed to be more enthusiastic about the whole Naija talk than Biola. It seemed she was waiting for me to change the subject, so I did.

                “How long have you been in South Africa?” I asked.

                “Three years,” she said quickly, visibly thankful for the new dimension of the conversation, “You?”

                “Two months,” I said.

                “Two months? You knew Abbey before you came?”

                “Nope! I met her about... two weeks ago.”

                “Wow! That’s pretty fast... And you’re already dating!”

                “Oh no! We’re not dating.”

                “You’re not?”

                “No, we’re not.”

                “You’re just friends?”

                “Well... yeah... more or less. We’re more like... passengers on different ships and, having coincidentally stopped at the same spot to refresh, we decided to take a little detour together... We’re quite strangers, but I care about her.”

                “Hmm! That’s a strange one. I hope you don’t mind my asking... and my choice of language... but are you... a yahoo boy?”

                “I’m actually glad you asked this question... ‘cuz I know this may have been your opinion of me all day. Well, sincerely, I’m not. I don’t even have the heart. But, in a sense, Abbey and I are in some sort of business relationship.”

                “What kind of business relationship?”

                “I want to leave it at that for now... do you mind? If she wishes to tell you when she wakes up, fine!”

Yeah! Do me I do you!

                “Hmm!” she snorted.

                “So you’ve been working here for three years?” I said.

                “No. I started working here last year. Did my Masters here, and got this job afterwards. I’d wanted to go back home o, but I thought I’d just work here for a while since I already got the job, so that when I go back home I’ll be continuing on a higher level.”

                “Never knew there was Masters for Medicine,” I said.

                “Of course there is... There are always higher grounds for any course.”

                “So there’s PhD too?”

                “Of course!”

                “And when you get that how will you be addressed? Dr. Doctor Biola?”

                “Just one will do... the rest remain on the papers.” She smiled.

                “So where was your first degree?”

                “LUTH.”

                “Lagos State University Teaching Hospital?”

                “Nope. Lagos University Teaching Hospital.”

                “What’s the difference?”

                “The ‘State’... there’s the University of Lagos, and there’s the Lagos State University. The first is federal and it’s the one that has LUTH.”

                “Okay, I see... So I just demoted you there?”

                “In fact eh...”

                “Served?”

                “06/07. Housmanship 05/06.”

                “Seems you’re not wasting any minute of your life!”

                “Why should I? Are you?”

                “Me? To start with, what am I doing here?”

                “Exactly. What are you doing in South Africa?”

                “Well... I don’t consider it as time wasting though... travelling is a rich form of learning... I actually came to witness the World Cup... and I’m still around, though Spain might have already forgotten they were in South Africa this year.”

                “That’s interesting! So what do you do back home?”

                “Back home... I work.”

                “Where? As what?”

                “With a private firm... up north. They call me manager... but I’d rather they call me errand boy and pay me better.”

She laughed.

                “Aren’t you supposed to be at work now? Or have you resigned?”

                “I am... but I ran out of cash during the Games... so I’m working to get T-fare.”

                “So after two months absence you think your job’s still yours?”

                “A month. The first three weeks to a month was actually my legitimate sabbatical. But I’m ready to take whatever comes when I get back... I might not even return there.”

                “Funny. What do you work as?”

                “Told you they call me manager... but if you’re asking what I studied it’s accounting.”

                “So you’re an accountant?”

                “Ah didn’t say so... that I read accountancy doesn’t make me an accountant.”

                “Really? So what makes one an accountant... and what are you?”

                “One needs to have sat for and passed professional exams... or needs to be working as an accountant in a reputable business organisation... I’m just an accounting graduate.”

                “The organization where you work, isn’t it reputable?”

                “Not quite. Besides, I don’t work as an accountant there... there, I’m just an onlooker.”

                “So which one are you... onlooker or manager?” She laughed.

                “Sorry! My turn...”

                “OK. Shoot!”

                “When are you going home... to Nigeria?”

                “Visiting you mean... or going finally?”

                “Finally.”

                “Soon. Why?”

                “Sorry... but it’s still my turn...”

                “Ok sorry... go on.”

                “Would you like to marry a South African?”

                “Well... I’d say... I’ll prefer to marry a Nigerian.”

                “So how you gonna marry a Nigerian from here... or... you got someone back home?”

                “Not quite. I just have friends... But maybe when I travel for Xmas this year... well... maybe I won’t come back.”

                “I’d like us to be friends at home,” I said.

                “Aren’t we already?”

                “Are we?”

                “... Or is there any formal ceremony that must be done before you call someone your friend?”

                “As a matter of fact, yes. I’m supposed to bring drinks and kola nuts to your folks and officially ask for your hand in friendship.”

We laughed.

                “So... is your name really Iroko?”

                “Of course... or do you suppose it should be Agagu? I’m not from Ogun State!”

We laughed again.

                “You’re quite funny,” she said, “and a joy to be around... I see why in two weeks you’re already woven around Abbey and co.”

                “You think so?”

                “Yeah... but in time you may prove me wrong.”

                “That I don’t wish to do... and thanks for the compliment.”

                “You’re welcome.”

                “And ‘tis a known mathematical fact that like-terms attract...”

She laughed. I laughed.

                “Please excuse me for a sec,” I said, “... lemme check on Isabelle.”

                “Oh, sure!”

                I came out of her office and called Isabelle with Abbey’s phone.

                “Where are you, Belle?”

                “I’m just returning to the hospital. Are you still there?”

                “Yeah... Where did you go?”

                “Went to get a call card.”

I saw her coming... so I cut the call.

                “Where did you go?”

                “I ran out of call units... so I went to an ATM, withdrew money, got a call card; and I’ll use the rest to buy some groceries for tonight.”

                “Was just wondering...”

                “I called my sister to start preparing dinner... I’d be joining her pretty soon.”

                “Your sister?”

“Yeah...”

“Your sister’s at your place? How come I didn’t see her yesterday?”

                “She came in from school after you left. Anyway, you’re going to be passing the night at our place... Hope it’s okay by you.”

                “Why?” I said.

                “It would be so lonely at Abbey’s place... and I’ll have no excuse to be there till late...”

                “Just that I’d wanted to be at Abbey’s side when she wakes up... you know...”

                “What for?”

                “So she’ll know I was there for her... and not that I ran home with you when she... got sick.”

                “You know... I don’t understand you one bit! Maybe I’m forcing myself on you... maybe...”

                “Isabelle, Isabelle” I cut her, “... I’m a grown ass man... You’re not forcing me to do anything. I know what I am doing, and I want to be with you.” I literally spelt this out.

                “...If you say so then why do you see... scruples where there are none?”

                “Know what... I shall pass the night at your place... No more scruples.”

Her sexy eyes fixated me and I knew the matter was settled.

                “So I guess... um... I’ll just dash down to Abbey’s, pick a change of clothes, and then we’ll head to your place?”

                “Fine.”

                “But I’m still here in the meantime, okay... I don’t want to go to your house already when we have all night... and then with your sister...”

                “It’s okay,” she said interrupting me, “lemme go get the groceries and take them home. I’ll be back a little later.”

We were at a secluded corridor so we kissed... and hugged... and then I bid her to get going.

                “Alright then, see you later.”

                It was past 5pm. The sun was on the downward slant out of the sky now. Change of watch: the moon’s beat was next. Don’t day and night have so much to say to all of us?

I went back to Biola’s office but she wasn’t in. Out on rounds, I supposed. Then I went to Abbey’s ward and sat back down. Now I looked at her face with more curiosity... and thought about life: survival of the fittest. I wondered how much she had lost by being weak and naive. A father, a mother, and a brother... Was she now losing me too? How unfair life was... that even on her sick bed her best friend was busy scheming to take away what seemed to be her only ray of sunshine. I wondered if she deserved such cruelty... if she’d merited it... or if how she appeared to me was how she really was... and had never hurt a fly. I held her hand and wondered why I couldn’t just... do a miracle and make her wake up... and erase this dreary episode of her life. I closed my eyes and prayed. If it worked, good; if it didn’t, who would even know I prayed!

I thought about Kate back home and how weak she was too... and how she was losing me because she couldn’t fight. I thought myself weak too... since I tended only towards the direction of the strong... like Isabelle. Otherwise, I needed to stay and protect the ones I said I loved. George W. Bush said ‘the strong have an obligation to protect the weak’. I remember the context... Terry Shiavo... a woman who’d been bedridden for fourteen years, kept alive by medical contraptions. Her husband got fed up and demanded that the life support be removed. Bush waded in... to preserve life; as someone strong, to protect a weak, defenceless person... regardless of the unusual circumstance. Amidst the cacophony of voices agitating for and against the course, the life support had been removed for one day too many and Terry Shiavo stopped breathing.

Pope John Paul II had been against the removal of the life support – a Pro Life stance. So, when his own time came, he encouraged the doctors to go on and do all they could to keep him alive, but that he wished to leave the hospital and go back to his residence. And his residence wasn’t as equipped to keep him alive as the hospital. So pilgrims and journalists converged at St. Peter’s Square, anticipating his demise. It didn’t take long.

The strong have to protect the weak! I would do all I could for Abbey... in spite of Isabelle.

                Later on Biola and Fina came into the room. Fina and I exchanged warm pleasantries, and Biola said she was about to go off duty. She asked if I could walk her and I accepted. I left the room, to give time for Biola to bring Fina up to speed.

I was pacing slowly in the corridor when Biola came out.

                “Shall we?” she said, giving me her hand.

I took it.

                “There’s a coffee shop at the turn of the street. Sometimes I go and eat there before going home... Care to join me?”

                “You say it’s not far?” I asked.

                “Not at all. It’s just by the corner... You could even almost see it from here.”

She led the way to the parking lot and we got in her cute, yellow Toyota.

                “Is it MTN that gave you this car?” I asked.

                “No. I bought it. Why?”

                “Nothing... just that it’s too... yellow.”

                “It’s nothing like Abbey’s I’m afraid!” she said.

                “Please!” I protested with visible disgust.

                “I’m sorry,” she said.

We went to the coffee shop and ate and talked, spending some... thirty minutes. Then she dropped me off at the hospital.

                “Before you go back to Nigeria could you at least pay me a visit?” she said.

                “I should like to.”

                “Okay. Much as I pray for Abbey to get well, I wish to see you here tomorrow...”

I smiled. Then Biola left for home.

                When I went back to Abbey’s ward Isabelle was there.

                “Ah... You’re here already?” I said.

                “Yeah. Where did you go? I was looking for you.”

                “Oh... I just walked Doctor Biola... just by the corner.”

                “I saw her car by the restaurant down the road... you guys were there?”

                “Yeah... she just offered we go take some drinks... and snacks...”

                “But you know full well that I went home to cook for you... and you went to snack with her?!”

                “Hey Isabelle, what’s the matter with you? Why you putting me on the spot like that?”

I frowned, and she went silent for a while.

                “I’m sorry... just that I’ve been through a lot of trouble trying to fix dinner... my sister and I had an argument... and my car broke down that I had to come back here with a cab.”

                “Oh, so sorry... your car? What happened?”

                “Dunno... it just started jerking... and stopping...”

                “I’m so sorry about that... and all your troubles. And don’t worry about dinner, I’m still hungry enough for it... But I hope you and your sister weren’t arguing over my coming.”

                “Of course not... she hasn’t even met you.

                So you’re not dropping Abbey’s car off... we’re going home with it.”

                “No problemo,” I said, “but I gotta rush down to her place and pick up a few things... Be right back!”

                “Okay,” she said with a sigh, “please hurry, I’m so tired.”

                “I won’t be long, babe.”

I wouldn’t kiss her in Abbey’s room of troubles; I just dashed out of the room in show of the haste she wanted to see.

                Driving home, the street lights were on... it was dusk already. They all seemed to issue green lights. Was this the true picture of South Africa, or was I in a web purposely weaved by someone watching me? Was I still the controller of events... or were events controlling me now? What about this whole... job? It certainly ends after Abbey recovers! Thank God things weren’t messy. Thank God Abbey would be fine. Thank God Biola was giving me the green light too... something more... feasible than the rest. Thank God for the money I’d made... and would still probably make. I could go home now... without soliciting for anyone’s help... I’d achieved what I set out to do. Thank God.

               

                “How madam?” Zuma asked me as he opened the gate.

                “She’s fine. She’ll be back soon. And how are you?”

                “I fine.”

                “Anyone been here to look for her?”

                “Nobody sir!”

                “Good. I just want to pick up a few things and head back to the hospital...”

                “O... okay sir!” He wasn’t sure... but what could the poor man do? Things weren’t okay, whose fault!

I went in and picked a change of clothes, my toothbrush, and my laptop. Then I went to the fridge and picked a pack of juice. Now I set out.

                “Take care, Zuma. I’ll see you in the morning.”

                Back to the hospital, I went straight to Fina’s office. She wasn’t in. But just as I turned to leave I saw her coming.”

                “Hi Doctor Fina!”

                “Hello Iroko... and it’s Fina. Simply Fina.”

                “Okay Doctor Fina,” I joked.

                “How has your day been? I know you must be tired and worked up by now.”

                “That is eh... I’m just uncomfortable that she hasn’t come around yet,” I said.

                “Yeah I understand... but you don’t worry, we already told you she’ll be fine.”

                “Fina, can you tell me candidly... when is she likely to wake up?”

                “Any minute... I’m pretty sure it won’t take long now.”

                “You mean... like... tonight?”

                “It is likely, but I can’t say for certain.”

                “Fina can you do me a favour?”

                “Just ask.”

                “In case I’m not here, I need you to flash me as soon as she wakes up. Can you do that for me?”

                “Of course I can. It will be a pleasure to help.”

                “Oh, thank you so much Fina, I really appreciate.”

                “You’re welcome.”

We exchanged numbers and then I went to the ward.

Isabelle looked tired and I knew we must leave soon.

                “Did I take long?”

                “Let’s just get going please,” she nagged. “It’s already way past 8pm.”

                “Ok then... shall we?”

She stood up and led the way, and I looked at Abbey’s obscured face and said a mental prayer.

                “Please direct me,” I said to Isabelle, “’cuz I’m not quite conversant with these routes yet.”

                “Just keep going,” she said weakly.

I glanced at her for a second and said.

                “I know Abbey’s your friend and it’s your duty to be there for her... but I’m sorry for all the troubles you’ve been through today.”

                “It’s okay,” she said, sounding even weaker.

                “What about Sasha and Tanya?”

                “They’re in school... Sasha told my sister that they won’t be coming back this weekend.”

                “Oh, she’s in the same school with your sis?”

                “Yeah, and sometimes when they come they stay at my place.”

                “What about Tanya?”

                “If Sasha isn’t coming then Tanya isn’t either.”

                “You alright? You sound... weak... or is it just the tiredness?”

                “I’m fine... it’s just the tiredness.”

                “I’m sorry... we’ll soon get you home to rest.”