He was found nestling at her breasts!

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They were quarantined,

So nobody really worried when they were not seen,

A few days had come and gone,

The only door to their homestead still under lock and key,

As the health workers did a street to street tour to meet the endangered populace,

A weak falsetto cry pierced through the homestead cracks announcing the presence of life,

And when they broke the door to let them in,

They were greeted by the putrid stench of rotting flesh,

The air was so thick with the smell you could cut it with a knife,

Totally oblivious of the grim reality which surrounded him,

He lay there nestling at his dead mother’s breast,

Sucking hard at milk that wouldn’t flow,

The stench of death fed by Ebola camped around him,

A sight so inhumanly despicable many of the health workers cried a river of tears,

A sight that is bound to follow any one to their graves no matter how hard one tried to make it go away,

A sight that is sure to conjure nightmares in your dreams,

A tragedy of unspeakable sorts!

One of the health workers picked him up,

Dazed and confused and numbed by shocking pain,

They gave him a thorough chlorine bath and prayed that by some miracle he would live,

The baby boy found nestling at his mother’s breasts.

Their dog showed up,

Smelling the death,

And was the saddest of them all,

Crying uncontrollably!

©October 2014 afesehngwaHilary

Tribute to a man, a teacher, a father - Fare thee well papa… farewell Pa Saboh

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Death is something I have probed and spent a lot of prayerful thought time with and the deeper I probe the more determined it is to hold and keep the eternal promise of its mystery, revealed only to those who pass through the grand portal called death, into the unknown beyond. I wonder why I am always surprised and shocked when something like death which is bound to happen to every one of us without any exception happens. Even in the figment of our wildest imaginations, when we wish and conjure the opposite, wishing to live forever never has and never will translate into concrete reality for any of us. I guess part of the shock that grows instantly to inject a stinging dose of painful reality at the news of death, comes from a vacuum the parting loved one leaves in the house, family, social circles and in our hearts. It comes from the new realization that while their memories live on their physical presence is gone and when we still want to hold them and hug them and talk to them, walking down memory lane will henceforth be our only recourse.

I went to a boarding secondary and high school in the African country of Cameroon. Any account of any of the weeks of the seven years I went to school in Sacred Heart College Mankon, Bamenda would be incomplete without the mention of the man, the teacher, the choir master, the father Mr. Saboh Ivo Peter whom we, his students fondly called Pa Saboh. It is therefore unsurprising that my heart ached and my heart strings were painfully tugged when without warning I learned of the passing on to eternity of this iconic retired teacher of Sacred Heart College Mankon. I will not go into the cause of his death, for from my experience the method of death never really assuaged or eased the pain of the loss.

Like all men Pa Saboh could make no valid claim to perfection, but unlike all men, my memories of him are that he brought an unbridled passion to everything I ever saw him do. He brought his heart to his geography lessons, he brought his heart when he disciplined, he brought his heart to choir practices, he brought his heart when he parented and loved. We would tell a lot of stories, some included here to remember you if we could physically make it to your wake keep… this is to celebrate your life as I knew it.

As a geography teacher Pa Saboh made geography one of the lessons I found impossible to sleep in, whether he was teaching Fishing in Norway, teaching about the Ruhr industrial region or how to read maps amongst other things. It was during your geography lessons that I first learned in a really concrete way that it is possible to travel to and visit places one had never really been to physically thanks to miraculous leaps of an engaging mind and ambitious imagination. I cannot forget how you described these foreign lands like you were born and bred in each of them and reminded us that though you have never been there, you have been there with your mind. You took us to Norway and Germany, with many other places around the world and through different contours on maps to physical landforms we could only imagine. You made them real and brought them to our classrooms.

As discipline master you were a strict disciplinarian, a firm believer in the corrective power of the rod and with it you sometimes made us fear, because sometimes fear was the only incentive to get over 400 boys to do right and be right by right. I particularly remember the countless mornings when we overslept and you showed up and we would get up at the slightest sensing of your coming and run into nearby bushes or hide in lockers until the wave of terror your unmistakable personality brought with you on those cold Mankon mornings ebbed out. I remember how we made many decisions to show up neither for morning mass nor for morning preps after those chases due the undeniable painful consequences of being caught showing up late for any of those important morning starters. You came to the farms with us during manual labor and toiled through with us those Saturday afternoons after essay writing, even if only to keep us company with your good humor and make sure we did the job and did it right. I still remember like it was yesterday when you showed up during preps, countless times, holding a list of noise makers in your hands and how I prayed some of my most fervent prayers during those times for who in their right mind wanted their name on a list of trouble makers in your hand. I have no reason to doubt that you were motivated even in error by right and love.

Pa Saboh you were our choir master for a brief time and who can forget those choir practices we had together… “Glory be to God on high… three four”… and then the whole school chimed in “… and on earth peace …” … priceless memories.

Pa Saboh you were also a father as mentioned above and you brought an impassioned justice and passionate heart to your parenting. I have no recollection of you having favorites with the students – punishment was meted out according to crime, with love and loving words of advice dished out in better measure than the punishment you gave. You gave us two SHESAN brothers and some of us where lucky to come to your home as if it was ours. I have had the honor over the years to know your entire nuclear family, visiting frequently when I was around.

Pa Saboh you gave us countless reasons to laugh and we cannot meet as students during our reunions, at least with my classmates without throwing ourselves into some real fit of laughter because of some funny thing you said or did. We were and are blessed with your priceless sense of humor for it is undeniably one of the things we do remember you for. It was your humor which mostly made you approachable and made us your children look forward to the more pleasant encounters with you.

As you exit the stage of life and lead the way on a path we all are on, make people laugh where ever you go and wherever you are. I am consoled as I usually am in the face of painful death by the timelessly true words of Rabindranath Tagore that "Death is not extinguishing the light; it is only putting out the lamp because the dawn has come." It is in times like these that my Christianity is especially needful… when I reach my wit’s end.

Fare thee well papa… farewell Pa Saboh…may God meet those you leave behind at their very points of need. You are sorely missed.

© October 2014 afesehngwaHilary

I had forgotten the meaning of love

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Love can be as abstract as it is real,
It was obvious from the way they behaved,
From the look in their eyes,
Her French was limited and her hearing handicap,
That morning I had forgotten the meaning of love,
I looked around and found it flowing from his heart,
To his hand, then through the pen to the paper,
As he translated every French word the preacher said into English,
Passing them on to her as quickly as he could in little notes,

Like the earth wire which taps and brings the charge to earth,
He reached out to the cosmos of his heart, tapping the abstract love,
Bringing it down to earth in a concrete reality of simple yet powerful love,
A love wired to her heart,
A love which made it possible for both of them to listen,
I had forgotten the meaning of love,
But found it written on the bonds which held them close.

© October 2014 afesehngwaHilary

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The right to be wrong, NOT to do wrong!

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There was a boss who was well within his rights to send any of his subordinates on errands. He was rich and they worked for his estate and served in his house. Out of some dislocated pleasures spawned in the mind of the devil himself he decided to send an employee whom he knew was allergic to animal fur to bring one of his cats to the vet. The employee’s allergies kicked in and the consequences were severe with quick onset of body swellings, itches and breathing difficulty. While the boss was free to send that employee, was he free to do him wrong?

There is a laissez faire attitude that parades the globe day, one in which freedom has been hijacked in a thousand different directions and monstrous atrocities have been perpetrated in its name. Freedom like all things has its boundaries that define its validity and the boundaries of freedom must be inextricably tied to the notion succinctly espoused by Abraham Lincoln that "Those who deny freedom to others deserve it not for themselves."

The answer to those who advocate that freedom has no boundaries and suffers no limitation, a land where anybody and everybody can do as they will or like independent of those who share the planet with them, perhaps lies in the pronouncement made by Canada’s 13 thirteenth Prime Minister John G. Diefenbaker (1895-1979): "Freedom is the right to be wrong, not the right to do wrong." Maybe the only exception when Freedom is the right to do wrong is when the same person embraces the right to suffer the consequences, whatever they may be.

If we are free, we must be free to dare to grow, and when we grow we will be wrong many many times along the way which is okay as long it helps us grow, but to knowing do wrong, that is certainly what we are not free to do. What are you doing to free yourself from the right to do wrong? Are there any circumstances where it is ever right to knowingly do what is wrong, robbing another of their freedom to grow into that best person they can be?


© October 2014 afesehngwaHilary

Profile of courage – the battle against Ebola

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These days when fear reigns and boldness becomes elusive, as I look around and try to find examples of courage to encourage me I am almost always sure to find it in one place; I am certain to find it in the place where in the face of mind boggling danger, fear is overcome and courage is crowned. As a viable cure agonizingly tarries, part of the mystery of Ebola lies in the fact that just as many probe the whereabouts of God when the monstrous disease ravages through the lands, questioning their faith in and about the same, many have reported miracles only because Ebola is here. This however is not what intrigues me the most.

As I have watched this disease battle and threaten mankind, aiming and dealing vicious blows and claiming many lives, I have been intrigued and marveled and amazed and blessed to observe the doctors who, despite knowing that many medical soldiers like themselves have lost and continue risking and losing their lives in the line of duty even after taking all necessary precautions to prevent infection, relentlessly continue in their desire and tireless efforts to help. Given that the symptomatic episodes of the disease do not immediately manifest, there is always a real risk that every doctor in the ravaged countries is treating and consulting and touching a patient who has the disease. They know this risk, they know colleagues who have transitioned from doctor/nurse to Ebola patient, yet they overcome the fear, honor their noble Hippocratic oath, and rise to the challenge, celebrating the very best of our humanity in numberless diverse acts of courage, engaging in a cause and course larger than themselves. I have a friend whose daddy, a physician met his death on the line of duty in this way. I salute his memory and that of all the medical practitioners who have sacrificed their lives fighting this disease. I salute your matchless humanity and rare courage. I celebrate and thank Dr. Kent Brantly, Nancy Writebol, the Cuban doctors who just made it to West Africa, Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF) and all those who have and continue to fight this monster on behalf of all humanity, especially those on the ground in the countries most hit, toiling with scant resources under sometimes inhuman conditions.

© October 2014 afesehngwaHilary

The Genetic curse - Freedom from the stifling thread of DNA chains!

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Sometimes it is easy to look at some people and by looking at their parents, conclude they hit a jackpot of genetic lotteries rich in disproportionate dimensions. Sometimes you may look at yourself and life and become convinced without a shadow of doubt in your mind that you are caught up in a stifling coil of DNA helices woven into chains which strangle growth, dwarfing potential and ability to rise and stand tall. You may be go on the journey through life with knowledge that you have been cursed by  deoxyribonucleic acids with different combinations and permutations of bases, inherited from your mother and father when that egg and sperm fused to form that first zygotic cell that is you. Maybe you blame your genes for being too sick, too tall, too fat, too thin, too ugly, too beautiful, too short, too dull, too intelligent, too blind and too anything and everything… they say too much of anything is a disease. It is important to note and remember that part of what we inherit is not just biological… there is also a societal and cultural DNA we inherit which constantly interacts with the biological DNAs to shape who and what we become. This interaction and how we manage and balance it, shapes our drive and zeal and health and accomplishments and thoughts and habits and character and who we are and become. Samuel Johnson hit the nail on the head when he said that 'The chains of habit are too weak to be felt until they are too strong to be broken.'

One of the things I learned and believe as a toxicologist/scientist is the verity buried in the fact that the genes load the gun and the environment pulls the trigger. I argue that many times it does not matter how much the genes have loaded the gun, if the environmental does not pull the trigger, the gun will never fire. Prof Steve Jones explores this further in his fascinating talk:

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ksP34GYwbY

How well are you managing the interaction between your inheritances from both within and without the biology of your person? Your ability to manage this will make you or mar you.  This is the reason why genetic disorders could not stop Toulouse-Lautrec, Queen Victoria, King George III, Nicolo Paganini, Vincent van Gogh, Abraham Lincoln, and a host of many others from leading fulfilling lives and leaving huge indelible marks in history of humanity. Without a doubt sometimes genes unleash an inheritance of lethal and fatal implications which make life unbearable. If you believe in God, you probably believe that nothing is purely random and it is possible to receive a blessing under the guise of a curse.

© October 2014 afesehngwaHilary

Freedom to take the road never taken and hug revolution!

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The Road Never Taken

One was a beaten path and was evident,

The other never traveled, uncharted, unexplored, un-evident,

Two roads forked before my eyes,

Emerging from a distance quiet like a block of ice,

Certain I had to make a choice,

I heard that still small voice,

Urging me to shun the beaten path,

To shun the caterwauling voices of distracting wrath,

So I heeded and took the path never traveled,

I wish I could say with every step I wondrously marveled,

The opportunities came in the guise of work,

But that did not take away my zeal to continue the walk,

As I forged the road never before traveled a lot was revealed,

Nothing could stop me even though I was sometimes frightened by the uncertain hand destiny dealed,

There was lots of gold and treasures and precious stones waiting to be discovered,

Focused on my path every once in a while I pondered what loot had happened on the beaten path more traveled,

What a difference did it make and what a mountain of opportunity did it bring,

To take that never ever taken path.

Whether it was Thomas Edison (1847 – 1931) most known for the electric light bulb who developed and innovated a wide range of products; the Wright Brothers who successfully dreamed, conceived, designed, toiled, refined, built and flew the first powered aircraft making man’s first steps towards powered flight; Charles Babbage (1791 – 1871) who created the first mechanical computer believed to be the initial prototype of all computers;  James Watt (1736 – 1819) who invented the steam engine, an invention critical to driving the industrial revolution; Alexander Bell (1847 – 1922) credited with the invention of the first practical telephone; Galileo (1564-1642) who developed a powerful telescope used in the confirmation of ground breaking theories about our world or Tim Berners Lee credited for developing the http:// protocol for the internet which allows us to interact through this medium; they all encountered and knew something about the uncertainty of trail blazing. They knew the scares of walking a path no other person had walked before, they knew what it means to have no previous experience or precedence to bank on, but they also knew the overwhelming and almost compulsive and instinctive urge to stay at it no matter the scares, no matter the discouraging voices, no matter the obstacles, no matter the setbacks, no matter the beckoning excuses giving them a millions reasons to stop, no matter the weariness of travelling that sometimes tiresome road; they know the unparalleled feeling of being drawn by a giant magnet of unrelenting drive and inviting curiosity towards that bigger than self dream and revolutionary, life changing discovery.

It is a path which can be lonesome and full of rejections, one which also helps reveal the nature of your true character and the true nature those around you. When nothing else matters more, and you are more than enthusiastically happy to give those countless extras that allow you inch closer to the dreams you see at night and courageously work towards in the daytime, then you might well be on your way to earning a place amongst those hall of famers who go to their graves totally wasted in a cause and course worthy of any lifetime’s best efforts and service. Have you given yourself permission to take the never taken path? Have you given yourself freedom to reach out to those things and people and places no one reaches out to or in a manner no one has dared out with before? Chances are many people have been on the beaten path and explored it and mined all the treasures, baring the barren land of once treasured soil but, but the opportunities in the never taken path are boundless – embrace it!

© October 2014 afesehngwaHilary