Come in Alex, do have a seat,” doctor Omondi motioned to me when I hesitated at the doorway. He put down the Daily Nation newspaper he was reading and took off his horn-rimmed glasses; neatly folding them, he put them in their case and placed the case on the fine desk made of finely varnished light brown cedar.
As I entered the office, the office messenger, a cheerful, short dark man, retreated as he closed the double dark brown mahogany doors. Dr. Omondi pointed to one of the office chairs in front of his desk and rose from his seat behind the desk leaving a void on his masculine leather seat. He moved from where he stood to the back of the spacious room then back to his seat. Just beside the cabinet were dark green curtains which had been drawn.
I adjusted my face mask to catch some fresh air but Omondi seemed comfortable in his. He fished out a file and sighed heavily.
“I have some bad news for you Alex.”
I stared at him blankly unsure of what to say.
“The test is positive.”
The words hit me like like a car ramming into a tree. I swallowed hard and suppressed a deep cough.
“I advise that you join our quarantine station at Webuye sub county hospital. There are resources there to help you fight this virus. Furthermore, you are young and your lungs are healthy so you will be alright.”
He dallied a number on his desk telephone and a strange young lady emerged. She led me to the waiting lobby.The door opened and a tall bulky man entered. He quickly located me and whispered in spite of himself:
“You might want to call your family and break the news and request for a few items of clothing to sustain you for a few weeks.”
Everything was happening so fast. I was in shock. I did not know what to expect. I had an idea of the virus from snippets of news items and videos I had watched online but I never thought I could be a victim.
I new it was a novel virus first identified in the Wuhan , China and linked to the family of severe acute respiratory syndrome (SARS) and some other type of common cold viruses. I knew It was renamed by WHO Covid-19. I also knew the common symptoms associated with it: fever, cough, shortness of breath and in most severe cases pneumonia and difficulty of breathing. And I remembered wondering why all the symptoms were similar to the flu or influenza symptoms. The secretary of health had given additional precautionary measures that the virus was transmitted through direct contact with respiratory droplets of an infected person, generally through coughing and sneezing and touching surfaces contaminated with the virus because the virus may survive on surfaces for a few hours to several days but simple disinfectant could kill it. The virus had spread so much worldwide that it had been declared a pandemic by WHO but still, I never thought I could fall prey to it.
I called my wife and told her I had tested positive for covid-19.She arrived after an hour with my luggage unsure of what to do. She stood teary two meters away looking sad and antic in her mask. The doctor had advised her to take the test as well. I hoped she will be negative. It was bad enough that one member of the family had tested positive.
A government van picked me up and dropped me at the facility.The main room was a spacious chamber with several handmade couches and numerous tables. The linoleum floor looked over trodden and matched the weather beaten cheap curtains drawn against the large windows and the old Sony television mounted in one corner. I was assigned a bedroom. The room was neat and smelled of bleach and alcohol. The government was anticipating an influx of patients but so far I learned that I was Patient number two.
As I sat down on the couch in the main room, awaiting processing, I could here the distant voice of the secretary of health.
“If we continue, to take this disease normally, this disease, will treat us abnormally.”
I wondered how I had treated this disease. Of course, I had not taken it seriously. I had sneaked into Cruz bar to grab a few beers with friends a few days back, I had travelled without a mask, I had greeted a few friends by shaking hands, I had failed to wash my hands regularly using soap and sanitizers. I felt I had acted foolishly and the Secretary’s words hit me like a whip. It was Karma punishing me for being stubborn and silly.
I was not feeling sick or anything save for a minor cough and a sore throat. But slowly as I lay in bed and watched videos of the sick people battling the virus all over the world I began to panic. Desperation engulfed my supposedly auspicious battle. I felt lonely lying alone in the room. I did not know the plan they had for me. I had no idea what the course of treatment was. I was in darkness. I gazed into darkness, the chaotic events of the day tainting my mind. Deep meditation, cynicism and paranoia formed the backdrop of my ultimate surrender to forces beyond my control. I yearned to be away, to drown my soul.
I remembered a conversation I had with a fried.
“What happens if as perfectly normal as you are, you contract a deadly disease? You become handicapped or you lose all the people that you love?”
We had not taken the question seriously though but he had tried to answer it himself.
“There is that emptiness that engulfs you when you lose hope, when you are desperate, when you think you are going to die. I would call this absurdity of life or the meaninglessness of existence. The idea is that you ought to embrace this absurdity for you to live a truly 'authentic life'. If you want to be happy regardless of what happens, you should know that eventually you will die, that something can go wrong anytime. “
I had fallen asleep after calling my wife Eva and assuring my daughter Gera that everything will be okay. Luckily, she had tested negative. An oasis of hope in the desert of uncertainty and hopelessness. I remained okay for a few days.My routine was always the same. I would wake up at 7 am, run for thirty minutes in a small pitch inside the facility, take a hot shower before eating breakfast, which was usually served at 10 am. The meals were not bad. Often tea that was almost sugarless and occasional three slices of bettered bread. Rice and beans would be served regularly for lunch, and Ugali and kales with occasional two or three pieces of boiled beef for supper.
I was hopeful and I had lost much of the initial panic and worries over death. But then, there is Murphy’s law: What can go wrong, will go wrong. Four days later, in the middle of the night, my worst fears were realised. The last thing I remembered was waking up, going to the door, opening it before stumbling out and falling on the veranda floor. I could hear voices shouting before I blacked out. When I come to I could not believe my sight. I was on a mechanical ventilator, fixed on a cardiac monitor and surrounded by a web of intravenous lines, suction pumps and feeding tubes. Was I dying? Was I dead?
I could not breathe. I was suffocating. I drifted into a dream and in my dream I was George Floyd.I was lying on my stomach and there was a Chines police officer with his knee firmly on my neck. I could not breathe. I could here people praying for me. Begging.
“We are from Allah and to Him we will return.”
“Jesus help him.”
Intermittently, I would be conscious, aware of the ticking heart monitor nearby before drifting back into a deep world of dreamy meditation.
This time I was listening to professor of philosophy in a lecture room.
“You see, taking life as it comes is what matters. For one to truly live he should first rid himself of the superstitions that will inhibit his freedom. He should not anticipate any life beyond what he has, or after dying. Instead, he should seek to have mastery over himself, his convictions and his emotions. Mastery of the inner self is better than mastery of others through imperialism, use of force or subjugation.”
Then soon I was floating over my body. I could see and hear everything that was being said and done by the nurses. I left the room for a short while and then returned to where my body lay.I thought I had died. I knew why I died. It was because I could not breathe. In my out-of-body state, I was using my mind to try and make my right arm and hand move: my arms were extended parallel to my physical body. I wanted my right hand to move, any thing to move. I was trying to pull the tube out of my mouth. I looked down at my face and tears were streaming. One of the nurses blotted the tears from my face but she did not notice that my breathing had stopped, nor did she see me next to her. At this point, I was trying really hard to make my physical arm move, but it was like my whole body was made of concrete. I could see my spirit standing before me. My spirit was so beautifully, so perfect, dressed in a white gown that was loose and free-flowing. It was so strange, for I could see my spirit and my spirit could see my pathetic body. I had not an ounce of colour and I looked all withered and cold and lifeless. My spirit felt warm and so, so celestial. As my spirit slowly moved away, my spirit told my body goodbye, for my spirit saw the light and wanted to go into it. The light was like a circular opening that was warm and bright. I felt torn between two worlds: wanting to remain on earth while at the same time feeling a strong pull to unite with my spirit self and pass into the light. Then I saw the light again, almost like looking directly at the sun. The strange thing was that I could see my feet in front of me, as if I were floating upward in a vertical position. Then I was passing through a tunnel, floating in the beautiful light. A tremendous amount of warmth and love came from the light. There was a standing figure in the light, shaped like a normal human being, but with no distinct facial features. It had a masculine presence. The light seemed like it emanated from that figure. Light rays shone all around him. I felt very protected and safe and loved. The figure in the light told me that I must go back, that it was not time for me to come here. I wanted to stay because I felt so full of joy and so peaceful. The voice repeated that it was not my time.
After this out of body experience I was back into boring self again. I felt terrible. My lungs were on fire. My head was bubbling. I wanted to cough hard but I could not. Then I drifted into a dream. This time I was in another lecture hall.
“Boredom,” declared the lecturer.
“ Boredom is what causes discomfort in life. Boredom is the source of all evils. It emanates from repetitiveness. One should therefore fashion out a life that is unique and live like a free spirit.”
Then I was in another dream. I was in a strange land. Where was I? was in Japan listening to a Shinto priest? Or in China attending a class on Lao Tzu? It seems my mind was disturbed by the possibilities of afterlife. I saw Spinoza writing his famous line “ God is Nature” I saw him erasing those words. I saw myself as a chicken in my next life, then as a dog tethered by Buddha. Then I was in hell burning. I could see other souls in flames. Then there was this strange voice whispering.
“Dad, wake up.”
I could finally breathe , the tubes were gone. I opened my eyes and I could only see the nurse in her mask frowning at me. There was a strong smell of a rancid air that hit my nose hard. My eyes were smarting. It must have been the medication. But the tubes were gone. I could breathe.
About the writer
The writer is a teacher of English and Literature at Lugulu Girls in Bungoma Kenya. He holds a masters degree in Literature from the University of Nairobi.
* This article was originally published here
No comments:
Post a Comment