Posts Tagged ‘Waje’

When I put out the call for writers, Abimbola said she was up for it, and promptly sent in an entry. For some reason, I didn’t find it, and so I emailed two weeks after asking if she was still interested. Right after I sent it I found her piece, and I apologised (truth is I’d had a really dodgy day), and somehow we exchanged emails that told me her piece would be perfect for today. Today, the 21st of July, 2014.

Thank you dear for writing in, and for taking the time to email back and forth the other day. You don’t know what it did for me. Hugs!

When I started writing this, the rains had just emptied out in a ferocious, torrential display of annoyance. Another Nigerian had just died; my aunt and the downpour reflected all that no words could say yet. Getting the email from Chioma around this time I could only think “what the heck, not like I’ve got any business to promote?” and the still small voice reminded me “what about the message burning in your heart?”

I am Onaoluwa Abimbola, 100% Nigerian and Health Care-for-all Advocate.

Despite the disparities or perhaps because of it, disease and death is definitely a leveler. Everyone dies and diseases do not discriminate these days. Previously labelled “big-man’s” diseases are now rampant in the general population no thanks to GMO foods (if you believe that propaganda anyway).

This first half of the year has been an extended period lesson on the importance of appropriate health care access for all regardless of class or personal station. Watching mothers cry on two occasions now and lament the wickedness of the “doctors” who kept on treating malaria for two weeks without benefit of a monitoring electrolytes screen till a patient crossed over into renal failure; I felt the weight of the system failure. Perhaps with regular laboratory workups on hospital visits (which incidentally was one of the conclusions of my project thesis at UNN), Mama Wale would still be with us. At the time her doctors ordered an Electrolytes /Urea/Creatinine test, her blood urea levels had already hit the roof and she was referred to another hospital for every other day dialysis. Referral Thursday evening, dead Saturday morning! She had shown no physical signs of kidney disease, no edema of limbs, no swollen belly; even in death, she had remained her ultra-slim beautiful self.

Still I am grateful to God, who always loves us, providing the right help at the exact time of need; a smile, a word – ‘hello’, a text message, sometimes comments by complete strangers on social media and a life is renewed. We die daily and that which reawakens in us the urge to keep fighting is aided by the love we get from wonderful family and friends; found even in unexpected places. That has been my testimony from late last year… an unexpected hospital admission far away from home, mismanaged Malaria and the sequelae of drug side effects that followed inspired a post on HAID Initiative’s blog.

What’s left of 2014 and beyond? I look forward to a Nigeria where force no longer wins rights, where violence and anarchy are not the ready tool for making demands.  As a corollary to that, a beautiful dream of mine is of a Nigerian health sector where the key players recognise that a team made of only a lead horse tied to several others behind is more prone to accidents: a united team of horses in their majestic beauty does the job and excellently too. When Presidents, Ministers are able to trust our hospitals again, the man on the street will no longer feel that where healthcare is concerned ‘OYO’ is the buzzword. Perhaps, even our beloved Dora would be here, as regular checks in the land where she lived and worked would have meant an earlier detection. A first sign that this dream will become possible for Nigeria, would be the suspension of all strikes in the public Health Sector henceforth and hopefully a renewed willingness by all involved in the business of healthcare provision in Nigeria to bury the hatchet and begin to chart a new course – forward.

I remain unapologetically Nigerian and the task of ensuring Nigeria trumps all her teething problems is our collective responsibility.

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Kindred spirit!

Ok! Before I say anything, can you put both hands up and say a big thank you to our ever faithful God for the privilege of another day? For countless journeys and His mercies that attend each trip, for the seemingly mundane things like waking up every day, eating the food digesting without any issues, the gift of air (and the ability to breathe unaided) that He gives without fail everyday, the functional brain, heart, and organs we’ve got, I could go on and on and on!! This God is merciful o!!!

Today’s chronicle is a testimony that happened this morning. Seriously. And I want you to read, and join me in appreciating this great God!

I spent the night at Wumi’s house because my flatmate has to be away for a few days and as much as I love the Broadway house I hate sleeping alone in a building. And the house is big!

So I slept at Wumi’s, we woke up early because she had to go to work and I had to run through a lot on my to-do list (books, culinary, laundry), before night/end of the day.

Walking home, there’s a T junction I have to cross which I always dread (today was no exception) especially there’s no ‘pedestrian help’ (I don’t know the name of that thing but I’m sure you get the idea). Anyways, so I approached the road as cautiously as always. Listening to MI and Waje‘s ‘One Naira’ on my iPod, I looked left, right, and then left again. Abi? All clear, so I crossed.

I forgot to mention that it’s a two-lane road, going and coming. There was a truck blocking my view from seeing the other lane but honestly I had seen a bus parked at the bus stop (effectively stopping any other car from moving past it) and of course there was the truck on my side, caught in traffic. Also, I had seen the line of people waiting to board the bus and calculated that it would be enough time for me to cross the road. Again, meant all clear abi?

I entered the road, and next I saw was the terrifying red of the bus inches away from me. How he pressed the brakes, how I got over my initial stunned state and got to the sidewalk, I will never know. I do remember running of course, but I also remember thinking, ‘this is it’.

Thank you Jesus from the bottom of my heart for keeping me, for not letting my family and friends mourn. Thank you for preserving me, and thank you for the privilege of another day!!!

Home safe, sound but still very shaken, it’s time to go have another bath. Why? I just noticed that I peed on myself. *sigh*