The last two years I have spent Christmas day at work, alone and away from old friends and family. So as the day drew nigh this year I was ambivalent. My wife and I had picked up three musical CDs some two weeks ago, one good old BoneyM and two other contemporary Christmas carols. As it were I needed some music to remind me of the coming yuletide.
So when we set out for Christmas shopping on the 23rd, I slotted the BoneyM into the Car stereo and hummed all the way. The shopping was uneventful until we got to the aisle for “Cake things”. Picking the flour, sugar, butter, eggs and milk was straightforward. But a guy like me gets really awed when it comes to making choices about those baking additives. As I pushed the trolley behind my wife, the search for such things like nutmeg, browny was exhausting and made me wander the routine such searches will be in the future.
Back at home that evening, not until I started chopping the turkey that I really felt Christmas was here. It is going to be a unique one...and I will not be working!
Indeed today has been special. It’s been the first of what will be many Christmas with my own family. This year, we choose outdoor and had a fun-filled picnic with our friends. I celebrate the birth of the Lord with a sense of gratitude.
And to all my readers: merry Christmas.
Saturday, December 25, 2010
Thursday, December 16, 2010
WHILE THE WORLD WAS BUSY...
While the world was busy with itself, I got myself married!
Yes, so it was that on the 27th day of November, 2010 I got married to my long-time belle. However the weeks prior to this date were laden with so much activity I almost broke down.Suddenly it appeared, my work place became very busy; the assignments from my masters programme were rather abstract (ethical theories, research appraisals e.g.); I had end of year's exams to write the weekend before my annual leave starts, the scope of which was totally different from the the year's module work. Oh, I also had a car crash, bad enough to condemn my car to the mechanics/panel beaters garage for over one month! Added to these was the mental stretch of preparing for a wedding as well as containing the excitement of seeing my family and old friends after two and a half years away from them.
It was in the midst of the above that I was invited to be a pioneer contibutor to V Jug blog (one that could even fetch me some money!). After going through the operational dynamics, I tried making my first post under my "freestyle" section. I titled it "A bite more than I could chew" hoping I would write out a summary of my many engagements at the moment. However, as with its title, I never got to finish the article. It was around the same time that the now famous Chilean miners, trapped underground for those number of days were rescued. I thought to make a post on Heymeyville, saluting the triumph of humanity. After two sentences, I was either distracted or could not concretize my thoughts to continue the flow of words. I never completed the discourse.
Finally on November 15, my annual leave started. It was going to be my first holiday since January 2007 and I was more than excited. I travelled that morning and by the evening of the day I was literally in another world. The venue, suggested by my cousin at the bank was expensive but worth it. Firstly, we spent some time at the bar and then settled for one of those candle-lit tables by the buffet table, a few yards away from the live band. We talked, laughed, ate and during the dessert an exuberant me gazed into her eyes, spoke the formal words and slipped the diamond studded gold ring into her right middle finger.I got back to my Sister's later that night and my sister and I talked till 4am!
The following two weeks were frenetic with the wedding preparation in its definitive form. My penchant for certain details did me little favours but we got around most of them. As much as I kept my propriety during the meaningful moments, I had made up my mind from as long as I could remember that I was going to enjoy getting married. I had my fun in the whole time; like stopping the cab driver in the middle of the night because I saw "fried yam" by the road side or rushing in to the "Calabar Kitchen some 2 hours before leaving for the International Airport!
Yes, so it was that on the 27th day of November, 2010 I got married to my long-time belle. However the weeks prior to this date were laden with so much activity I almost broke down.Suddenly it appeared, my work place became very busy; the assignments from my masters programme were rather abstract (ethical theories, research appraisals e.g.); I had end of year's exams to write the weekend before my annual leave starts, the scope of which was totally different from the the year's module work. Oh, I also had a car crash, bad enough to condemn my car to the mechanics/panel beaters garage for over one month! Added to these was the mental stretch of preparing for a wedding as well as containing the excitement of seeing my family and old friends after two and a half years away from them.
It was in the midst of the above that I was invited to be a pioneer contibutor to V Jug blog (one that could even fetch me some money!). After going through the operational dynamics, I tried making my first post under my "freestyle" section. I titled it "A bite more than I could chew" hoping I would write out a summary of my many engagements at the moment. However, as with its title, I never got to finish the article. It was around the same time that the now famous Chilean miners, trapped underground for those number of days were rescued. I thought to make a post on Heymeyville, saluting the triumph of humanity. After two sentences, I was either distracted or could not concretize my thoughts to continue the flow of words. I never completed the discourse.
Finally on November 15, my annual leave started. It was going to be my first holiday since January 2007 and I was more than excited. I travelled that morning and by the evening of the day I was literally in another world. The venue, suggested by my cousin at the bank was expensive but worth it. Firstly, we spent some time at the bar and then settled for one of those candle-lit tables by the buffet table, a few yards away from the live band. We talked, laughed, ate and during the dessert an exuberant me gazed into her eyes, spoke the formal words and slipped the diamond studded gold ring into her right middle finger.I got back to my Sister's later that night and my sister and I talked till 4am!
The following two weeks were frenetic with the wedding preparation in its definitive form. My penchant for certain details did me little favours but we got around most of them. As much as I kept my propriety during the meaningful moments, I had made up my mind from as long as I could remember that I was going to enjoy getting married. I had my fun in the whole time; like stopping the cab driver in the middle of the night because I saw "fried yam" by the road side or rushing in to the "Calabar Kitchen some 2 hours before leaving for the International Airport!
Now I am back to work. It’s been an eventful holiday, through 5 hotels, one cancelled flight, a family reunion, a wedding and the ensuing honeymoon. My life has just changed gears.
Monday, October 11, 2010
ALL IN A DAY'S WORK: Saving Lives
I have surprised myself to write along the lines of this post. From the outset, this blog was meant to be about me and things apart from my job. Simply put: the non-doctor me. However a recall of the events of this afternoon, stirred in me an urge, strong enough that I have made this post. I might even make a series of this title if the urge is sustained.
To start with, I woke up today with the temptation not to go to work. I had a strong alibi and I had told those I spent the weekend with that I did not feel like working on Monday. Well, I made it to work eventually and the morning went without much ado. As I made to park my car upon returning from lunch, my work place colleague called. His words were along the following lines: the out-patient was crowded; there is pregnant female being taken to theatre whose CTG reading indicated foetal distress; could I just go to straight to the theatre and commence anaesthesia; he will make an attempt to reduce the queue of unseen out-patients and then join me as soon as soon as the pregnant woman has been “doped”.
On getting to the operating theatre, I went to the waiting area, introduced myself to the pregnant woman - one of those un-booked ones, confirmed her consent to the procedure including to blood transfusion if it was necessary and then got her into a conversation on the size of her family; the latter a ploy of mine to calm an obviously apprehensive patient. She was also HIV positive and I did well to let my colleague know before he started the Caesarean Section.
Indeed it all went well until the infant was delivered. With an estimated weight of about 1.5kg, my colleague went on to “scout” if there was a twin. The woman had repeatedly said she was about 8-month pregnant and her baby-bump was quite a size. Before the futile search for a second infant was given up, the one already delivered was handed over to the nurse to take to the Radiant Warmer by the operating table. Within a minute, I was called to see. I left my position by the anaesthetic machine to inspect the infant. He was limp, blue and showed no obvious respiratory movements. I proceeded with the resuscitation process. In between this, I shouted out instructions to the make-do anaesthetic assistant. Within the seven minutes or so that resuscitation lasted, I really thought we had lost him. But then, he came around and started that whining, much to the jeer of the theatre workers.
As I made to return to the “head” of the table to continue with the monitoring of the anaesthesia, my colleague who all this while kept on with surgery said to me with relief: “you have brought him back!” I replied, “The theatre nurse and yourself did not want him to go to heaven yet”. We all laughed. It was routine stuff and as it were nothing extra-ordinary had happened.
As I recounted part of the event to someone later this evening, I thought to myself that the life of that limp, blue and non-breathing child was saved. I cannot take the credit for it. Maybe indeed the child was meant to live but we did our part to ensure that. It gives me a sense of privilege.
To start with, I woke up today with the temptation not to go to work. I had a strong alibi and I had told those I spent the weekend with that I did not feel like working on Monday. Well, I made it to work eventually and the morning went without much ado. As I made to park my car upon returning from lunch, my work place colleague called. His words were along the following lines: the out-patient was crowded; there is pregnant female being taken to theatre whose CTG reading indicated foetal distress; could I just go to straight to the theatre and commence anaesthesia; he will make an attempt to reduce the queue of unseen out-patients and then join me as soon as soon as the pregnant woman has been “doped”.
On getting to the operating theatre, I went to the waiting area, introduced myself to the pregnant woman - one of those un-booked ones, confirmed her consent to the procedure including to blood transfusion if it was necessary and then got her into a conversation on the size of her family; the latter a ploy of mine to calm an obviously apprehensive patient. She was also HIV positive and I did well to let my colleague know before he started the Caesarean Section.
Indeed it all went well until the infant was delivered. With an estimated weight of about 1.5kg, my colleague went on to “scout” if there was a twin. The woman had repeatedly said she was about 8-month pregnant and her baby-bump was quite a size. Before the futile search for a second infant was given up, the one already delivered was handed over to the nurse to take to the Radiant Warmer by the operating table. Within a minute, I was called to see. I left my position by the anaesthetic machine to inspect the infant. He was limp, blue and showed no obvious respiratory movements. I proceeded with the resuscitation process. In between this, I shouted out instructions to the make-do anaesthetic assistant. Within the seven minutes or so that resuscitation lasted, I really thought we had lost him. But then, he came around and started that whining, much to the jeer of the theatre workers.
As I made to return to the “head” of the table to continue with the monitoring of the anaesthesia, my colleague who all this while kept on with surgery said to me with relief: “you have brought him back!” I replied, “The theatre nurse and yourself did not want him to go to heaven yet”. We all laughed. It was routine stuff and as it were nothing extra-ordinary had happened.
As I recounted part of the event to someone later this evening, I thought to myself that the life of that limp, blue and non-breathing child was saved. I cannot take the credit for it. Maybe indeed the child was meant to live but we did our part to ensure that. It gives me a sense of privilege.
Friday, October 1, 2010
I AM FROM WEST AFRICA
Last year, following the death of Michael Jackson, I watched on TV as hundreds of people from across the globe turned out at the Hollywood Walk of Fame, to catch a glimpse and trod the path where MJ’s position is etched. I recollect the TV reporter covering the event took time to interview a cross section of the crowd just to emphasize the international presence it was. Amongst those he interviewed was a lady whose attire and accent was very familiar. When asked where she is from, she said “I am from West Africa”. To this, my friend and I watching together that night chorused: “Nigerian”.
In my young life’s sojourn, much to my amusement I have found more and more people (mostly Nigerians) refer to their selves as being West Africans. Yes, I find it funny because I know people from West African countries do not refer to themselves by such christening in their home countries. One was a Nigerian, Ghanaian, Senegalese, etc. It’s like a Canadian saying he is North American when asked about his origins. It is ambiguous and an almost unconventional way to describing oneself.
This unorthodox nomenclature is another way Nigerians have tried to avoid the travails of being called one. Yours sincerely has had his own fair share of such experiences (CF blog post “My Passport is Green”, Heymeyville (c) November 2009) and I dare say that people who have had the inconveniences of being Nigerian loathe her identity. I do not blame those who have taken this path of anonymity because much that is known by the world is the guile and desperate measures employed by my country men in order not to beg for a living. While this in itself shows a people who are industrious and who have a value for their self worth, every Nigerian who is on the path to building a responsible life does not want to be identified with their country of birth. Of course when their reputation has been established, they proudly refer to themselves as being from “9ja”.
Incidentally, as much as we Nigerians try to conceal our identity, it is never hidden. Many times I have gone to the mall and at payment point; the cashier has asked if I am an “Igwe”. The latter is a commonly used word in the now ubiquitous Nigerian movies. Now and again, I am told of Nigerians in strategic places all over the world. I remember going to proudly “google” the name Remi Adefarasin after I watched “Elizabeth” (he was the director of cinematography). My work place colleague referred to Things Fall Apart earlier this week. ASA’s song was being played on the local FM and I sang so loud in my car the other day. Interestingly too, I have started watching games involving West Ham United and West Bromwich Albion because they now have Nigerian players!
I am sure it is not only nollywood that non-Nigerians admire about my country. Indeed the heterogeneity of Nigeria is broad and almost all-encompassing: the good- very good, bad and urgly. This ambiguity is what a non-Nigerian can never comprehend. He is hence filled with awe, fascination, disdain and distrust, all of these wrapped into one. Perception and attitude towards Nigerians then depends on which of these is dominant in an individual.
As my country celebrates her 50th independence anniversary today, I have found an unusual feeling about being proudly Nigerian. It is home after all. I am ever drawn to its generosity, perspective of life, fun, energy, resourcefulness and overall human warmth.
To all of this and more, I say Happy Anniversary Nigeria.
In my young life’s sojourn, much to my amusement I have found more and more people (mostly Nigerians) refer to their selves as being West Africans. Yes, I find it funny because I know people from West African countries do not refer to themselves by such christening in their home countries. One was a Nigerian, Ghanaian, Senegalese, etc. It’s like a Canadian saying he is North American when asked about his origins. It is ambiguous and an almost unconventional way to describing oneself.
This unorthodox nomenclature is another way Nigerians have tried to avoid the travails of being called one. Yours sincerely has had his own fair share of such experiences (CF blog post “My Passport is Green”, Heymeyville (c) November 2009) and I dare say that people who have had the inconveniences of being Nigerian loathe her identity. I do not blame those who have taken this path of anonymity because much that is known by the world is the guile and desperate measures employed by my country men in order not to beg for a living. While this in itself shows a people who are industrious and who have a value for their self worth, every Nigerian who is on the path to building a responsible life does not want to be identified with their country of birth. Of course when their reputation has been established, they proudly refer to themselves as being from “9ja”.
Incidentally, as much as we Nigerians try to conceal our identity, it is never hidden. Many times I have gone to the mall and at payment point; the cashier has asked if I am an “Igwe”. The latter is a commonly used word in the now ubiquitous Nigerian movies. Now and again, I am told of Nigerians in strategic places all over the world. I remember going to proudly “google” the name Remi Adefarasin after I watched “Elizabeth” (he was the director of cinematography). My work place colleague referred to Things Fall Apart earlier this week. ASA’s song was being played on the local FM and I sang so loud in my car the other day. Interestingly too, I have started watching games involving West Ham United and West Bromwich Albion because they now have Nigerian players!
I am sure it is not only nollywood that non-Nigerians admire about my country. Indeed the heterogeneity of Nigeria is broad and almost all-encompassing: the good- very good, bad and urgly. This ambiguity is what a non-Nigerian can never comprehend. He is hence filled with awe, fascination, disdain and distrust, all of these wrapped into one. Perception and attitude towards Nigerians then depends on which of these is dominant in an individual.
As my country celebrates her 50th independence anniversary today, I have found an unusual feeling about being proudly Nigerian. It is home after all. I am ever drawn to its generosity, perspective of life, fun, energy, resourcefulness and overall human warmth.
To all of this and more, I say Happy Anniversary Nigeria.
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
"AFRICAN TIME"
Sometimes it really gets to me when people can not keep their word. I am told it’s an Africa thing; when one says I am coming to see you in 2 hours, it means he only has the intentions but which does not infer a commitment. There is even what they call “African Time”. An event is scheduled for 16.00 hrs but participants start converging at 16.30 hrs, the latter being the African Time.
Today’s world is fast-paced and 24-hour days are cramped up with schedules unending. We ride fast cars, eat fast foods and write in abbreviations. Unlike the Stone Age when the approach to satisfy the need for food, water and security were simplistic, satiety in the post-modern era is multidimensional. Is it at the massage parlour, the stocks section of the dailies or work-place performance appraisal? The list is varied, ever-increasing and added to the Early Man’s primitive priorities. Hence the drag for what to do is no longer exists. Time has become our most precious treasure.
While it is impossible to keep a timely pace with every thing, it is the deliberateness of being non-prompt as well as the (nonchalant) cheer it is greeted with that I find unnerving. Promptness ought to be natural. It speaks of character, respect for others and a sense of responsibility. Employment may not an appropriate word for the Early Man but the world has evolved since his existence. In the same way, “African Timing” (well, it is not only an African thing) ought to have gone through its own evolution.
As people make efforts not to laze with appointments and schedules, people will increasingly drift towards orderliness and the beauty it paints for our species. We must make the efforts.
Today’s world is fast-paced and 24-hour days are cramped up with schedules unending. We ride fast cars, eat fast foods and write in abbreviations. Unlike the Stone Age when the approach to satisfy the need for food, water and security were simplistic, satiety in the post-modern era is multidimensional. Is it at the massage parlour, the stocks section of the dailies or work-place performance appraisal? The list is varied, ever-increasing and added to the Early Man’s primitive priorities. Hence the drag for what to do is no longer exists. Time has become our most precious treasure.
While it is impossible to keep a timely pace with every thing, it is the deliberateness of being non-prompt as well as the (nonchalant) cheer it is greeted with that I find unnerving. Promptness ought to be natural. It speaks of character, respect for others and a sense of responsibility. Employment may not an appropriate word for the Early Man but the world has evolved since his existence. In the same way, “African Timing” (well, it is not only an African thing) ought to have gone through its own evolution.
As people make efforts not to laze with appointments and schedules, people will increasingly drift towards orderliness and the beauty it paints for our species. We must make the efforts.
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