Nairobi, Kenya
December 25, 2012
Since it is the festive
season in memory of the birth of the most enduring historical figure that ever
traversed this earth, let me too take leave of my daily pain and politics and
look at the little things that we hardly pay attention to under normal
circumstances.
In this regard, let me
take this early opportunity to thank all my readers, editors, friends and
family for having walked with me through 2012. I wish you merry Christmas and a
blessed 2013.
I know a number of you may
have noticed my reduced appearance on the local scene and must have wondered
what might have happened. A number of you with sharp intuition guessed it right
and actually called. Yes, I have been in hospital again for the last six weeks
suffering from the same old condition.
Some of you may recall
when I filed a story from Khartoum, North Sudan in late November this year. I
had gone there in high spirits to run a project for three weeks for the Darfur
political movements. Everything went smoothly for the first eight days until
one afternoon, hell broke loose.
I must thank the staff of
the International Republican Institute who rushed me to the nearby private
hospital and the wonderful medical staff in Khartoum who did all they could to
stabilize me for close to 10 hours before I was evacuated to Nairobi.
As I lay in my Nairobi hospital
bed, I saw many things on the political scene. I saw Nelson Mandela share in my
predicament way down in South Africa. I saw President Zuma win the ANC when
others had written him off. I saw elections in Ghana go smoothly without any
serious street madness.
On the local scene, I saw
political mergers left and right. I saw high level political backstabbing,
betrayal and conmanship of the highest order in my country.
But I also saw good and
realistic Kenyans who saw their limitations and formed respectable exit strategies
from the presidential race.
I saw good politicians who
through sheer foolishness throw their political careers into the dustbin in
broad daylight. I saw political hyenas masquerading as supporters leading their
victims to the slaughter houses. I saw political cowards refusing to face the
electorate in open nominations. I saw egocentric self styled clean individuals
still entertain the illusion that they would be Kenya’s 4th
president. I saw merchants of political deals trade places again and again, abandoning
their parties without the slightest guilt.
On this hospital bed, I
saw the second Tana Delta massacre come to me live on my television screen and
I wondered aloud what on earth had gone wrong with my society.
On that bed I wondered
aloud where our government and its security arsenal were.
On that bed, I waited to
hear any serious condemnation and the steps to take to capture the murderers.
I never had any.
While lying on my bed, it
dawned on me that just because I was bedridden, the Electoral commission had chosen
to disenfranchise me just like it had done to many Kenyans in hospitals, prisons
and overseas despite the low turnout of voters in rural villages. And now, like
millions of Kenyans, I will not elect my leaders because the IEBC had decided
my fate. Yes, in their wisdom, my vote would not matter just because I was
hospitalized!
Being in hospital can be
lonely. It is only when you are confined there in prisonlike uniforms and a tag
on your wrist do you realize that your release is not in your hands. The doctor
is king there. He is the Alfa and Omega. His orders are gospel truth for the
nursing fraternity.
If he orders 20 different
drugs to be administered at the same time, nurses will strive to carry out the
order irrespective of the patient’s welfare. It is only when a patient throws up
do they express shock and frantically call the doctor only for the doctor to
administer more and anti-vomiting ammunitions.
It is in the hospital
where you will discover that there are two types of healthcare personnel.
You will find one set that
is diligent, intelligent, ethical and caring. This lot will strive to do
everything right in the interest and for the comfort of the patient. They will
smile, greet you and say goodnight to you on arrival and departure. They will
know you by your first name rather than by your ward number.
However, in the same
institution, you will find rough, ill-trained, rude and downright reckless and
careless individuals. This is the group that gets easily irritated by patients.
It is the lot that an
emergency bell means nothing to. You can ring the bell until the cows come home
and when they appear at the door, you can read anger and venom written all over
their faces.
There is one thing in a
hospital that has become the tormentor of people of all ages. No matter how
many times one has faced the syringe in the past; it is always a new and
different experience. The degree of pain depends on that nurse that administers
it. Some are downright malicious and seem to enjoy the pain they are inflicting
on the poor soul.
After all is said and
done, I suppose when one is lonely and confined in hospital or prison; the
moment of reflection truly flourishes. It is when one realizes the little
things that matter in life. The true meanings of freedom and happiness blossom.
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