Treasury square was as cool as always.
I loved this place. I remember coming with a girlfriend here once.
She said she liked it too but it did not show in her eyes. There are
a few places like this in Mombasa island where noise is minimal,
Uhuru gardens for one. Cover from tree shades, cement benches to sit
and cheap snacks sold by cart vendors. I think its romantic. But I
think girls don't like this setting, and I don't know why?
Today, I was just passing by. It was
past five in the afternoon, I had just got off from work in
King'orani where I clerk in a small scale transport company. I walked
from G.P.O. Where I alighted from a Matatu, and was heading to The
Mombasa hospital. I had never checked in sick at this hospital, Nor
Aga Khan hospital, and neither Pandya hospital too. To me, these were
hospitals where I would go in to visit rich friends when they are
sick, or those that were given medical insurance policies by their
employers. I couldn't afford them. But I'm also thankful to The
Almighty that I have never had real sickness in my life. Fever,
malaria, typhoid, dislocated arm joint, these were fixed at the local
health center or at The Coast General hospital(Makadara).
The hospital was clean, as always. I
could sense the rich air flavor sandwiched between the sour medicine
scent in hospitals that I so hate. It was already visiting hours and
I headed straight to Semi Private wing wards. It had been two weeks
since Maria's mum was admitted here. I thought she would be out in no
time, that's why I had not bothered coming before. Another reason, I
did not like her mum. Buts that's only because she did not like me
either. She was a racist, but only if you remove the word race in
racist to insert religion. She did not want a non-christian for her
only daughter.
Maria ran two small businesses. A
boutique selling latest designer handbags, shoes, and clothes
imported from Dubai. And a cybercafe offering internet, photocopying
and typing services. I met her when I was looking for a place to
print my KRA-pin certificate. The stall was just opposite customs
main office. I flirted with her for some minutes before asking for
her number. She refused. She said she had given out her number to
many guys who seem interested. But if I was real, then I would meet
her for drinks when she closes shop.
I made good my word and we met at
Stavrose cafe at six before darkness announced itself. She was a girl
with a beautiful face. You could see the confidence of a young
entrepreneur in her, plus the smile she wore, a man wouldn't resist
ogling. Maybe that's why her place was full of customers. She told me
she was from Kaloleni. Her extended relatives still lives there on a
family farm. Her father died while she was still young and its her
mum who saw her through school and hard times until she started her
own business in Mombasa town when she took in her mum from Kaloleni.
Maria was at the door when I reached
the ward. She hugged me then ushered me in to see her mum. There was
a nurse beside her. I greeted her and she replied with difficulty.
She was trying her best to conceal her groaning, but I could feel it.
I knew pain when I see it from a person's face. She was breathing
fast and sweat was coming flowing down from her face despite the air
conditioning in the room. Despite our differences, I really felt
sorry for her today. This was the woman who told Maria, her daughter
that I was no good for her. That I was wasting her time and in the
end she would just be hurt because of difference in our religions.
She warned Maria repeatedly against converting for love. I didn't know
what was the big deal with her and the interference. Surely, I liked
Maria but I wasn't looking at our relationship to be the “Together
forever” one.
We went out to sit at the reception
lounge after thirty minutes. Maria was lost in thoughts. I asked her
what was the problem in mother? “She has cancer.” she started.
“She was diagnosed and found with cancer about a year ago. We have
been able to manage it through good expensive medicine that I have
been buying for her. She is also diabetic. Its a usual story, old
people have multiple diseases. The doctors have been giving her
strong painkilling injections but it seems she doesn't respond to
them anymore. It has affected her right leg so much. Doctor said had
it been cut off about six months ago, the sickness wouldn't have
spread so much. Its so serious now and they said its just a matter of
few weeks until she dies.” Maria was crying as she narrated this.
“She is the only one I got. Other family members don't care much.
But they are not close family, I cant blame them much.” she
continued. “I cant afford to see her that way. She is suffering.
She is in so much pain since the medicines stop responding. I have
exhausted all my savings and what I get from my business is not
enough to take care of these medical expenses. I don't know what to
do now? She suggested to the doctors that she be put to sleep, the
final sleep. But I'm not decided yet. I'm not sure if the right thing
to do,”
The “i don't know what else to do.”
raised my eyebrows. Sure, I was the boyfriend but we only started
going out three months ago. She wouldn't think that I would help with
the hospital bill. I was just a clerk earning less than ten thousand
shillings. I had so much to do with my meager salary. I held her
shoulder and started consoling and comforting her with words of hope.
“Maria, you have been a good daughter. You have taken care of your
grandma for long and I'm sure she appreciates it. You said it
yourself, you cant bare to see her in that pain. Her medical
condition is incurable and she continues to suffer from pain. Doctors
say she only has little time anyway. I think your mother is right.
You should honor her wish and accept the doctors recommendations.
Don't see it as her leaving you, see it as ending the immense pain
that she now feels.”
She understood my words and I
accompanied her to the doctors office to sign some paperwork for the
procedure. It would be simple. Just an overdose of morphine and she
would sleep peacefully to beyond. We returned back to the ward and
Maria held her mother's left hand while crying. She opened her eyes
briefly and nodded three times. She then pressed Maria's hand gently.
She couldn't talk now. She coughed a bit then continued with her
silent groaning. She was drunk with pain and had given up hope
completely.
I hadn't noticed it was past midnight
and I was still here at the hospital. The view of the see was
beautiful, not to the admitted patients though. The doctor and a
nurse came to give Maria copies of the paperwork and made settings on
the drip and injections. They told us to pray and say goodbye to our
grandma and when she feels its the right time, she should just press
the injection connected to the patient's hand. They said they would
be back after some few hours to do it if she couldn't.
Death is scary. We usually still have
things to accomplish before we go. We think of our loved ones whom
we'll never see again. But there is hope. We are told that those who
depart here, go into another world where they only eat fruits. There
are beautiful houses and gardens where the sky is decorated with
rainbows and singing birds. That was the place Maria's mum would go
to.
We sat there looking at mum's face. We
had mixed feelings. Loss, pain, kindness, heartbreak and all sorts
that makes you feel your heart is shrinking. We could see that she
was still struggling. Silently, she was asking us to pull the trigger
and end her misery. Maria went for the injection then she retreated
her hand. “Do it for me Ahmedinho” she asked me. And I thought
this woman had suffered enough. I gently pressed the injection until
all the dose had disappeared in her veins. After around ten minutes
while Maria was still holding her hand, we could no longer see hard
wrinkles formed from the pain she was experiencing. She seemed
peaceful. And after a few seconds, she stopped breathing, and she was
gone. I had done a good thing. Helping a poor woman escape unending
pain.
