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Showing posts from September, 2016

GOD; will you help?

Isa 66:9 Do I open the womb and not deliver the baby? Picture this: A woman is wheeled into the operating theatre (if you haven’t been in one before, you must have seen one in movies). She has been informed that a caesarian section would be performed on her, for which she has given written consent. And so the obstetrician is poised for surgery. Subsequently, he makes an incision on her abdomen. Cuts through layers of skin, fat, fascia and muscles. Finally, he locates and opens up the uterus. Pause. He says he cannot go on. He is tired of the surgery.  Just too tired to go on. He wants to rest. He removes his gloves and gown, walks out of the suite with the woman still on the table, a breached uterus with a nearly non-viable child, whose rapidly declining heart rate screams in horror, still within. Does this make even the minutest amount of sense? I hope not. Because it doesn’t. Isa 66:9 Do I open the womb and not deliver the baby? Sometimes, thr

DOKITA

EPISODE 6 As a matter of necessity, Bunmi had to eat this morning. She just hoped she wouldn’t have to throw up at work due to her morning sickness. It was because of this pregnancy she was rushing to get married. At least, before she would start showing. When Fola found out, she knew he was going to be heartbroken. But she would rather cross that bridge when she got there. And to think she had gotten pregnant for his friend- Kehinde Amao of all people! Now, she was hooked and she just had to marry him. She had never intended to, and still couldn’t bear the thoughts of being a single mother. Abortion wasn’t even in the picture. But Fola…he was the love of her life. Kenny had only played on her emotions. She remembered the incidents that led up to this uncanny situation. While waiting for house job placement and being on a ‘break’ from her relationship with Fola, she had made friends with Kehinde. In all sincerity, he’d been the one advocating for her friendship at al

#MONDAY’S PROSE THIS CHILD; ON THE ROAD

Through my myopic eyes, a fleeting image of a little boy is formed on my retina A little boy in a little suit, Treading the familiar bushy routes before him The boy had neither escort nor directives And surely, he needed none For a 4 yr old on the road possesses more maturity than a 10 year old in ‘comfort’ Swiftly, she navigated through cars held in traffic An adventurous smile tugging at her split lips Providing snacks for impatient car-owners And though panting from car-chasing, She had a visible life of passionate content She probably planned to get off the street, Forsake her hypothetical ‘street-urchin boyfriend’, Give up this demeaning way of living, But I feared she wouldn’t! She hadn’t been wired to get off the street And sadly, she was too content to stage a forced exit. Children on the road and teenagers of the road, Not choosing to be this vulnerable Yet hooded and shrouded in the cold, Filled with shreds of hope that the fut

DOKITA

EPISODE 5 ‘So, really, whose patient is she?’ Doctor Afuarida asked with impatience written all over his face Bola indicated, her body language reeking of timidity, ‘Sir, she was supposed to be my patient, but I haven’t been able to clerk her’ ‘Oh, really? She was supposed to be?’ ‘Do you even have any other patient on the ward?’ ‘Ehm…no sir. But my other patient has just been discharged’ ‘Please, leave my ward round. You are obviously unprepared to truly learn the art of medicine.’ She knew better than to plead and therefore, walked out with the little dignity she still had left. He continued lecturing the rest of the students ‘You know, whatever you do now will speak later in life and especially in your medical career. If you want to be a good doctor, it definitely begins from now- taking responsibility’ Dr.Amao, please give me a summary on this patient ’22 year old female, had appendectomy done. 1 st day post-op. Mild pain at op-site. Currently on IV Met

#MONDAY POETRY# ’MARA

She visited me almost every night And so I called her ’Mara In my dreams she came, To propose the logical; she said To procure a solution to my long-littered problem, That of chronic singleness I asked her why, Why her perplexities weren’t sufficient for her She gave me some inkling into the troubled waters of her soul It’s the turbulent shaking of love, she said And it was only because her heart was reverberating, With concerns for my emotional health And so I proposed the illogical, it seemed I was not afraid of walking home alone, Or of being by myself Rather, I was unaware of its complexities And more wary of her venturi-like love We put an end to our illusory discussion: Maybe she was the illogical one, actually Or maybe I was the one who needed a rude awakening From the side effects of ketamine ’Mara came again last night, This time, she sounded so urgent, More willing to beat her thoughts into my ‘crazy’ head She said I