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WHY MUST I CRY?…memories of a sudden sad end of life

October 25, 2013

By Azuka Jebose
I am not tired. But the circles of life keep sapping my energy these twelve months. The tears are being slapped off my face by the fast traveling breeze, dripping few drops into my mouth. I don’t want these feelings. I just can’t escape the burdens of life that have been happening to me and continues to happen. When will it end?. I don’t know. How will it end? I live the moments, moments I did not seek, moments that spring suddenly, like hibiscus flowers in Onicha Ugbo’s rain season. I guess, these are omens and reminders that I am in the early evenings of my life and at crossroads of life. These crossroads are as challenging as navigating traffic at five point’s intersections. My people, we are in October and I just lost a dearest friend, to cancer. I am still trying to reconcile those 35 minutes telephone conversations with Mustapha Amego and his fast death, 48 hours later:” Musky, I go come see you on Sunday, okay?” I hurriedly said to him before we hung up. Why was I in a hurry to hang up?” Zuky, I am getting tired now, I beg make I rest small…” He said, in a weak whispered voice.
America’s major holiday is the Thanks Giving celebration every November. Next month, this great nation would roll out kindness, comfort and gifts to give thanks for an enriched past 12 months and hope for best, next. My heart has no room for celebration beginning now: I am loaded with pains, anguish and memories of a sudden sad end of life. My son’s grandfather called me few days before last thanks giving. He wanted to celebrate and appreciate 2012 with every member of his family, including me. Dr. Bernard Mathias Materu was one of Africa’s brightest economists from Tanzania. He was the dean, school of business at Saint Augustine’s University. That evening, the big teddy bear “babu” danced, all night, with his children, grand children and other members of his family. The next morning, he called to thank me for attendance. We also agreed to me meet on Monday for some family assignments. Sunday afternoon, his first daughter called. She was panicky and frantic. Her father was in Emergency and the family wanted me to come over. I rushed to the hospital emergency. Doctor Materu had been diagnosed with liver and kidney failures. I found him sitting and chatting with her daughter. He didn’t look sick: He looked forward to returning home after an overnight stay at the hospital. I would stay till late night… Few hours affecter I returned home from the hospital, his daughter called me again, crying: Her father was vomiting blood and had been moved to ICU: I immediately returned to the hospital. I never left him until two weeks later. He slipped into coma and was placed on life support. After two weeks of all medical experiments, I watched the heart rate of a dear friend, father and grandfather, fell to zero. “Sorry, he is gone”. I looked at the clock on the wall, that December 15, “7.05 a.m. Time of death.
One month later, my mother, battered by years of stroke and disability, finally died: Sixteen days into the New Year. Inside the Embalmment Center where my mother’s remains were deposited was the body of a ten year old boy. He was placed on a wooden bench, covered and kept beside the entrance, very visible. I walked into the embalmment center and was attracted to a tiny covered corpse. I asked the mortician about the child: He was a victim of an accident along Lagos Asaba highway. His body was brought to the hospital in December. In March, when I found him, his parents hadn’t claimed the body for burial. The mortician said the parents had no money to bury the child. I rallied few friends on face book and other blogs, raised money for the dead boy’s burial. The hospital was stunned by my gesture, as such, it too donated its ambulance to send the child home for burial. Few weeks later, my friend, dear home town hero and Nigeria’s finest crooner, Perry Ernest died. In no strange ways, along with Emma Ogosi, Gideon Nwaomu, Freddy Fretless and Asaba branch of PMAN, we celebrated this great intriguing musician who left a catalogue of….. Well, not now please.
Late Mustapha Amegos death few days ago would complete an anguished year for me. I pray and hope that another dear friend, Rilwan Omosun, would defy date with death as pronounced by doctors due to his congestive heart condition and kidney diseases. Musky was very private and extremely protective of his family: hence the privileged very few friends with his colon cancer until his last days. I am privileged to have talked to him 48 hours before his death: His voice continues to play back in my memories. I am in denial of his death: so why must I cry?

Posted from WordPress for BlackBerry.

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