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The Invalid Citizen And Other Stories
Foraine Amukoyo Gift
The Citizen Journalist- We often forget how much power the bureaucrats have over the media. The first step towards population control is to control the media. It gives you power over public perception. The corruption in these areas is worse than ever. This story is extremely relevant to the corruption and politics that currently exists within the United States. I'm with Kola on this, there should be only one way to report the news – the truth. The Invalid Citizen- Another poignant and politically motivated story. In our greed, expansion, and desire for innovation we often overlook the consequences on the environment. It is easier to forget the extent of this when you live in an urban area that has been developed for centuries. A woman was in labour. Some people on the street could hear her screams. Those who could empathize with the excruciating pains she must be feeling took some moment to say a little prayer for the patient while others spared glances at the hospital. After hours of prodding labour, the nurses and doctor delivered the woman of a baby boy. The baby was very big. The woman had a big tear in her vagina. She bled irrepressibly. She fainted several times and the doctor reinstated her with shocks. She was losing lot of blood. She was a believer that blood transfusion was not of God. Her husband prayed for God‟s intervention. “Mr Jason, you need to agree to this transfusion in order to save your better half. You do not want your first child and this new born to be without their mother,” Doctor Greg said. Mr Jason pondered for some minutes. “No, I do not want to lose my wife. I cannot bear it. Please give her a blood transfusion,” he said. Mrs Jason was adamant, “Jason, why are you of little faith? I don‟t want a blood transfusion.”
Gift Foraine Amukoyo
The Invalid Citizen and Other Stories
The Invalid Citizen and Other Stories
The Invalid Citizen and Other Stories
Short Stories
Gift Foraine Amukoyo
Soft Grid Limited
Published by
Soft Grid Limited
Plot 6, Block 23, Satellite Town
Calabar, Cross River, Nigeria
+234 (0)8027676550, +234 (0)8053110637
E-mail: softgridbooks@gmail.com
softgridltd@hotmail.com
www.softgridbookslimited.com
© 2020 Gift Foraine Amukoyo
First Published in 2018
Soft Grid Books
All Rights Reserved
First Printing, December 2018
For my grandma,
Esther Willie Awerije
One
IMira Won
scrawled my signature on the first page of the document and paused. The pen slipped off my sweaty fingers. It was not easy for me to put an end to one’s life.
Mira stared at me. Her eyes were remote, “If you truly love me, just sign it. You are the only family I have to permit this hospital to end these sufferings,” she said.
“How can I? I do not want to lose my only family. You are the only one I have in this world.”
“I cannot stay this way. I am troubling you.”
“Stay with me. I do not mind. Stay as long as you can. I do not want to be your murderer. I will not be a party to this.”
“It is not murder. It is suicide. I am killing myself. Do it, Tejiri.”
“I will not let you do this. Mira stay with me,” I held her pale fingers.
“Tejiri, you do not have a choice. Everybody will die one day. I am just going to die today.”
“No Mira, I do have a choice.”
“You should choose a sensible choice. Do it, and get back to your life. I am killing you with my illness. Tejiri, look at you. You are losing weight. I look chubbier than you are.”
I laughed. “You wish, you wish Mira,” I held her thin wrist, “yes, you look healthier than I am. That is why you should come home and take care of me. I miss all your soups and snacks. I wish a miracle could happen.”
“I would have been rid of this illness a long time ago if it exists. All the fruitless dry fasts, vigils and prayers on the mountain showed I am unlucky to get healing. Miracle does not exist. If it does, then its healing hands have forsaken me. Oh, the wonders of heaven and earth, I need a healthy second chance to breathe without fear it might be my last. The thought of leaving you is the only thing that scares me.” Mira turned her face away to hide the tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Mira, I am so scared of being without you. I will be so alone.” I cried.
Mira wiped her tears and turned to face me. She sniffed, “stop crying like a little boy. You are now a full-grown man. Those manhood balls and beards are not for fancy. Tejiri, do not be careless. You resigned from your job to care for me. I have asked your boss to withhold your resignation letter. He did a dying woman a favour, and gave you leave for a week. You have five days left. Tejiri, sign those papers and get back to living your life.”
Mira coughed blood for ten minutes. The sight was unbearable. I saw sorrows in her eyes and something mixed with an urgent plea. I picked up the pen and scribbled my final signature. A haughty nurse took the document away. Her smile and gait was triumphant. The near outcome of my action distorted my mind.
The doctor and two nurses returned with a lethal injection, “this would be fast. It is painless,” the doctor said.
I could not witness Mira’s death. I walked out of the room, thinking if my final decision was right. It had been unbearable to watch her suffer day and night. Mira’s belly pain, unswerving nausea, and vomiting had left a painful twist in my heart. The cancer punctured holes in her intestines. Mira fed through pipes, she excreted on the bed. Sometimes, when the waste welled up in her bowel, the feces passed through her mouth, nose, and anus at the same time.
Mira’s illness irritated some of the nurses. They were reluctant to attend her room. Once, I had heard a nurse gossip that I had lost my sense. ‘He is swelling with her sickness. How can one person comfortably breathe in this foul corpse?’
Mira had been my guardian angel. She was the shield that protected me after I lost my parents. I was fifteen year old. They died while protesting unpaid salaries and arrears. According to police report, stray bullets killed them. They were the backbone of the solidarity protest in Lagos. I had overhead Mira telling a colleague my parents were victims of a conspiracy.
My parents died as poor medical practitioners. Their professional and personal oath was to save life. They paid the hospital bills of strangers. After my parents’ burial, none of their relatives was willing to be my guardian. They learned my parents’ private hospital was bankrupt. Mira adopted me. She was a matron in their hospital.
I was weary. I shut my eyes. My head ached. It pounded to hear the confirmation on Mira’s death. I did not hear any footstep towards me until a hand touched me.
“Tejiri, we won. The Judge has granted you permission to take Mira home until she passes,” Kome said.
This news from Kome, my barrister gave me joy. I shed tears and hugged him tight. I ran towards Mira’s ward. I called out to the doctor to stop the procedure.
I waspanting by the time I reached the room, “stop doctor, your hospital has lost. You and your entire management have lost. I have won the case to take my Mira home. She is coming home with me.”
My lawyer came forward with the injunction letter, “please, release the patient to my client. Henceforth, he is her caregiver.”
My smile was radiant on hearing that statement, “yes, give my Mira to me. I know you all must have told her despicable things to make her hate herself and sought death as succour,” I touched Mira’s cheek.
She smiled weakly, “you are a fool. Oh, Tejiri, this is a foolish move. The stench will be so offensive in your home. After I am gone, the apartment will ooze for a long time.”
“Yes, Mira, that is what I want. I want your fragrance to linger forever,” the nurses’ faces hardened as they cleaned up Mira, “hey nurses, I know none of you want to do this. Shed these long faces, do it with some smile. This is Mira’s final departure from your hospital. I will take my Mira to an island. It would be Mira and me in paradise.”
“I cannot wait to see this paradise,” Mira said.
“It is just a small beautiful house on an island in Epe. Oh, Mira, you will love it.”
* * * * * *
We were at the balcony. The morning sun cascaded upon us. The sun was like a healing balm. I was very cold last night; the mild heat soothed my skin. Mira felt at home. She was on a stretcher bed. I propped some pillows to support her back and arms.
“Tejiri, you are the greatest caregiver. I promise, I will not trouble you.”
She looked fragile. Most of her hair was gone. Her eyes were the colours of a green river, dull and sad. I could not see the happiness her face used to exude. I opened a bar of chocolate and took a bite.
“Tejiri please let me have some.”
“Mira, you are diabetic. This is sugary.”
She scoffed, “Tejiri, Tejiri, can a dead body die?”
“No way, I am sorry. You can have this Mira and the rest in the fridge.”
I opened the chocolate wrap some more and gave to Mira. She ate the soft chocolate with relish. She smiled. She savoured the taste and took another bite.
“Mira, it is time for you to have your bath.”
“Tejiri let me be. I love it here,” Mira snuggled deeper into the soft bed.
“I knew you would love it here. I had always said I would build a personal island for you. I am sorry it came so late.”
Mira sighed deeply, “Tejiri, you have done enough. I am so proud of you. You are now a successful Petroleum Engineer. Cheers to more wealth,” she gave a tiny piece of chocolate to me.
I took it and ate. I faced the pacific view of the island. Gush of fresh wind fanned my face, “this wealth means nothing without you to enjoy it.”
“Go, get those chocolates, I want to eat every bar you have in that fridge.”
“Okay Mira, I will get the chocolates.”
“I love you, Tejiri.”
“Mira, you know I love you very much.” I pecked her on the forehead.
My bladder was full. I went to the toilet. As I urinated, a cold breeze caressed my legs. I shivered at the sudden chill. I wondered where it came from because the toilet temperature was warm. I looked at the closed door and window. I shook my head, flushed the toilet, and washed my hands.
I took my time to unwrap all the chocolates in a tray and covered it with a cloth. On my way to the balcony, I kicked my foot and yowled. I injured my big toe. I ignored the pain and hurried to the balcony.
Mira was relaxed in a pleasant position. She had put a pillow under her feet. Chocolate smeared her lips. I smiled and put the tray on a table. I knelt in front of her. “Mira, here are many chocolates. You are going to have a feast!”
Mira was silent and motionless. I took her hand. Her body had grown cold. Her eyes remained open. I closed her eyelids and sniffed. Mira did not wait to say goodbye to me. Tears rolled down my cheeks.
Two
JThe Transitional Title
essa was born in Jagua. When the oldest man in the village died, he looked forward to ascending the position. He received shocking news from the coronation council, that Jagua was not his real origin. Hence, they could not crown him as the Okpako-eldest man in the village. His ancestors had been wanderers. Jagua was hospitable and they had settled in the community.
Jessa’s first-born, Jaja, was very angry. He vowed to sue the community to court. He wanted to prove them wrong that his clan from the fourth generation were not outsiders.
Jaja argued that when an individual had stayed in a particular geographic territory for decades, they naturally become citizens of the state. Migrants were accepted and respected as communal citizens. They had equal advantages despite there was no legal documentation of their citizenship in the past. Jessa talked his son out of going to court.
However, Jaja was adamant and filed a case. He told his father that the public denouncement of their clan was deplorable, “Tomorrow, I will ask questions around the village.” Jaja said. “I shall trace our root.”
The next day, Jessa went for an evening stroll. Jaja was waiting in the living room when he returned. Jaja stood up and guided Jessa to a seat. He placed his father’s walking stick against the wall.
“Where have you been?” Jaja asked. “You look exhausted. I will get a cup of water for you.”
Jessa drank the water slowly and finished it. Jaja took the cup and put it on the table. “Thank you, my son. What did you find out? You stayed out too long.” Jessa said and brought out his snuffbox. He put some of the powder in his nostrils. He sneezed and tweaked his nose.
“Father, I have traced our lineage to Ebito. It is four villages away from Jagua. That was where your great-grand father migrated. The people welcomed me warmly. Father, they recognized the birthmark on my cheek. They said your great-grand father had the same mark.” Jessa nodded excitedly, “I will go and build a house, a new home for us,” said Jaja.
Jessa was not happy about this news. He did not want to leave Jagua. This land has been his heritage, “why build a new house so soon?” Jessa worriedly asked. He took the cup and put it between his thighs.
Jaja saw his father was unhappy. “Father, why are you sad? You should be happy we have discovered our real identity. By leaving Jagua, I know we will lose many things-some properties and precious memories. I would love we stay back, but the community have ridiculed our family honour. Do not worry father. It is never too late to start afresh. The worst harm should have been we were not able to trace our hometown. The good thing is that our kinstill reserved some portion of land for us in Ebito. I will leave for Ebito tonight. We have much work to do. I called my siblings on my way back from Ebito. They have sent money for the building materials.” Jaja knelt in front of his father and touched his feet. Jessa patted his shoulder. Jaja took the cup to the kitchen and went to his room. Jessa looked grave.
* * * * * *
In the morning, Jessa took a stroll around the village in brooding silence. He went to the riverside, where he had spent most of his time; swimming as a toddler, and fishing as an adult. The river was good to him. It was in its beautiful white sand he had found a large piece of diamond.
Jessa did not covet it for himself, the whole village benefited after he sold the diamond. He sent his children and other children of the community to school in the city. His children were doing well in their careers. Four of his children lived in Europe, only Jaja, based in Jang, a town after Jagua.
Jakpo, Jessa’s bosom friend walked up to him, “I saw Jaja this morning. He told me everything. Jessa, why do you want to leave? The people of Jagua have not asked you to leave. Are you very sad you cannot be the Okpako? Jagua cannot confer the title on you. You are not a real citizen of Jagua, which is why you cannot be the eldest member of the community. This title is like kingship. Jagua cannot give this title to an outsider.”
“No Jakpo, you are mistaken. This title is honorary to a man that has seen many years on earth and in a territory. This title is not a legacy within a royal household. It is a transitional title for the everyday man. Any worthy individual can earn it. Do you know how many decades I have been in Jagua? I was born here. I am eighty-eight year old. It is a privilege, when the gods bless a man’s black hair to become gray. You cannot melt diamonds into gold. I have earned this honour. The coronation council thinks they have snatched my joy, but they are wrong. It does not matter whether the community bestows the title on me or not, by nature I have earned this right.” There was silence for a while.
Jakpo cleared his throat and chewed his brushing stick;he spat some particles and chewed the stick again. “I am next in line. The people of Jagua will crown me Okpako.”
“Yes, congratulation, my good friend and may the blessings of your ancestors dwell with you. We never dragged fishes in the river. There were enough fishes for every fisherman or fisherwoman to catch. We will not fight over a title. I wish you all the best my friend.”
“Jessa, you should not go, you are a great part of this kingdom. Your ancestors live here.”
“My ancestors also dwell in Ebito. I will use my last days on earth to offer libation to my ancestors. I have not known them, let me go and worship them in Ebito. Jakpo, I must go. Let me go back to my root. I pray I have a pleasant homecoming. I am positive my own people will not weigh me with scornful scale. Who knows, my friend? The gods have given me a chance to reconcile with my root. My children’s offspring will not be a lost generation. They will not face denial from family. I just wonder who revealed this knowledge after many decades. I never knew I was not from Jagua. Who knows my history more than me?” Jakpo looked away, “Jakpo, do you have any idea of who revealed I was not originally from Jagua?”
Jakpo laughed nervously, “No my friend, I have no idea who that person is,” he said quickly. “I hope you change your mind about leaving. Jessa, your decision is wavy like this river. I know you want to stay in Jagua.”
