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Pinafore in The Morning, Hijab in The Evening. A Story in Between The Daily Duality of Roles. By Uche Emordi

I had finished with my secondary school education and in the brief lull between that time and entering the university, I had the opportunity to work in my mum’s school, a nursery and primary school in Port Harcourt, Rivers State Nigeria; Truth Life and Way International School (TLWIS) and I jumped at the opportunity to do it because, for one I love children.
My mum had just started the school a few years ago and from the name of the school, you would guess it was owned by very dedicated Christians. Yes it was. It would be what you can refer to as your average 'Christian school'. But if you think that it would stop the neighbors who were Muslims from enrolling, you are wrong.

Our Muslim neighbors had many children because they were mostly polygamous families. Most of them had just recently moved from different parts of Northern Nigeria and were infact natives (hausas mostly). So one day, their mums came over in their groups to register their children and to be honest; my mum was a tad surprised. Surprised because in this part of the world, religion almost always generated some sort of 'tension,' 'suspicion' or simply put, 'discomfort' when it was polarized into Christianity and Islam. And the idea of a 'Christian school' was one where Christian Religious Studies ( C.R.S) was a basic and compulsory part of the curriculum, asides other compulsory Christian activities like; Bible study groups, daily general devotions, and so on. And what with the many general stereotypes about hausa parents being 'anathermic' to any kind of formal education for their kids; my mum told them plainly that it was a Christian owned school, which offered Christian Religious Studies, explaining more so they had the opportunity to back down if they had any reservations. To this the mothers replied that they were already aware, and had no problems whatsoever with the fact, and to a large extent it was much more about how the school was going to be accommodating.
Having a large number of Muslim kids (I tell you, they were a lot!) in the school when I joined them, was very adventurous for me. They were almost half the population! 

So on this day, I got two classes; Basic 3, my own class, and Basic 2 because their teacher wasn’t available.
That morning, I came to school, at about 8 a.m. I didn’t attend the daily morning assembly they always had; teachers and students because, why, I was the proprietress’ child! I taught those two classes and made it through that day, however stressful I must say, combining the lessons for two classes! So at the end of the day, we were to pray and close as was the school’s custom. Everybody sang the ‘’now the day is over’’ song and then I told a child to pray. When we finally were to say 'grace', a very popular Christian litany from the bible, only the children with Christian parents and those in the lower class, Basic two, were saying it. Then Aisha from my own class; Basic 3, gave the other Muslims in the lower class saying ‘the grace’ this stern look and they stopped. I later asked Aisha why she did that and she told me that, they had told them at home to stop saying ‘grace’.
The next day, I was to take them, the both classes on C.R.S and it was going to be a challenge for me as I thought of my lesson plan. With the tense atmosphere the day before, I didn’t want a class where half the students were not participating because they were thinking that somehow, I was trying to proselytize.

So that day, I let all of them know this before the class; “C.R.S is part of your curriculum and you will be graded in it in your tests and exams. So you need to pay attention and participate in the class.”
I wrote down the words; 'Psalms 23' on the board and was going to write the full text when everybody in my class chorused; “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want…’’ up until the end! EVERYBODY inclusive, up until the end of the text! I had even mixed up a part but they didn’t miss a word. Boy I was surprised, because after the previous day I was going to try to be ‘diplomatic’ but the Muslim kids shouted that bible passage through at the top of their voices without me even telling them to. That was about how all my C.R.S classes went. The whole class always participated and they looked forward to the classes because they really loved the Bible stories that I told tell them and Aisha personally told me that. That evening, as we were about closing I told the class to say Psalms 23. They all did. The thing about Psalm 23 is that, this is the part of the bible that part of 'the Grace' is gotten from….everybody said that part too! Even the Muslim kids, and Aisha!

Now, before you start thinking that I tried to manipulate and play on these little children's impressions and sensibilities, you need to know that I had the utmost respect for these children and their convictions and didn't try to force anything on them because I always put myself in their shoes. So I asked Abdul one day to tell me a little about himself and what he did after school. We closed by 3 p.m everyday, so he would go home and use another hour to prepare, and trek to the mosque close by (most of them stayed close by) for Koranic school. They were going there to learn too! They would do another 4 to 6, after the first 8 to 3. He told me they had different classes much like a formal setting with a teacher, but the only subjects they did was; Arabic, Maths, and Islamic studies ( that is as much as I can remember now). That basically meant that they went to school twice everyday. Their active hours of learning were from dawn, at about 8 a.m. till dusk at about 6 p.m.

From the little ones to the eldest, they made their commute everyday to the mosque, after school in their groups with their light blue clothes, the girls wore a hijab over it and I sometimes met them on the road. They would greet me warmly and call out very loudly; “Uncle Uche! Uncle Uche! Uncle Uche!” 'uncle' more as a title of endearment and respect; no matter how far I was, to get my attention. Whenever anyone of them was naughty outside school, the others would report it to me the following day. That was how close we got after a while.

Now some of these children in my class had just relocated from the Northern part of Nigeria, where they hadn't much exposure to education so, it was kind of a challenge for them, English; written and oral. They were communicating in their mother tongue at times and even the basic math was a problem. They even had problems writing down test answers. Their background in these subjects were very poor. I was doing so much of inspirational and motivational talks at first. I began giving them lots of exercises, and organized after school lessons for them. I taught them English language everyday, and afterawhile, I banned any usage of hausa in communicating, as far as they were in school. It worked magic! In the space of one term, they all had very much improved in Maths and English; Aisha especially, I was personally on her case! and the teacher student bond had gotten stronger. Maybe I really was an 'uncle'…and I was only eighteen! 

 
When I was ready to leave the school; it was sad and all, but I had to move on to Uni; I did a lot of thinking. My relationship with these children and their parents, and infact my experience for the few months I had stayed busted all the myths and stereotypes I had about people, religion and tribe. First, I saw that Christian and Muslim relationships can absolutely thrive, blossom and be successful if we all could be more tolerant, less suspicious and more accommodating. Then I realized that more Nigerian parents are realizing the enormous benefits of formal education and are keying into it. Aisha wants to become a teacher, Zainab wants to become a doctor; and her mum once came to school and told my mum, the proprietress that when she had  told her that she was saving for her to be a doctor; Zainab squealed for joy and hugged her. These children had big dreams and aspirations and their parents knew quite well that education was the sure path and were determined to give them one at whatever costs. I just only  wish that the children remain open minded, perceptive, continue to pursue their dreams and aspirations, realizing the enormous benefits of formal education and eventually choose their own paths in life.
Written by Uche Emordi @emordi_u on Twitter

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A Virus And The Silent Contemplations Of A Doctor ( Reality and Surreality )

Late Doctor Ameyo Adadevoh

As I stomped my feet on the dusty Monrovian ground, my heart was pounding like a ten ton truck was hitting it repeatedly. It was very hot; over forty degrees. The entire colour was washed from my face and I felt weak in that instant. And then, there was this nudging headache…. I wondered whether this was how death felt like, but death was more of a numb feeling right?

I couldn’t get these macabre thoughts off my mind and there was a good reason so; I was on a suicide mission this time around! Death was inevitable, the question was when?

Being a health worker and travelling to various parts of Africa the past few years, especially the most challenging areas had made me see life in a whole different perspective… the joy it brings when you are literally giving a soul a chance to live again…to encounter people with different problems and still smiling and best of all to offer a helping hand…life was not just about me and it felt so gratifying. But now that life was closing in on me.

This mission was a suicide mission because we had heard of the team that went before us, led by Dr Bradley in another region. He had tested positive for the EVD the Ebola virus and died within few days. We were another team, and we were coming into a region with confirmed reported cases of EVD already. Dr Bradley was one of the doctors I looked up to and I hoped to meet him someday and soon enough…now it seemed I was getting my wish…I might get to meet him after all in the most unlikely of places; the grave!

Did I spend all those years in school to end up like this?

 I remembered taking the Hippocratic Oath; the oath physicians and physician assistants took to show "utmost respect for human life from its beginning."  I was so excited, I crammed all of the words and I tell you, there were so many of them!

Then my mind flashed back to my high school class mate; he barely made it out of college. He dropped out because he couldn't just do it. He went on to become a musician and all over the place people were shouting his name; Temple! Temple! He was travelling about everywhere and in several music videos...I was here...

I was not regretting my job or my work but did the world know my name? My story? Or even care? Did anybody know how painful this was going to be for my family? All these thoughts began rushing so fast and I suddenly caught myself with a “breathe” command. I had been through this conversation with my wife several times; it took us weeks of making up our minds and her finally deciding to let me do what I always wanted to do. I chose this! I couldn’t be mad now.

My wife, I could just picture her beautiful face had to come to terms with the certain possibility that she was going to lose me. It broke my heart when I remembered how bitterly she cried on countless days. Her hair was a mess, her eyes her bloodshot red! She wasn’t sleeping, eating or even talking to me. She would withdraw and even abandon our six year old son sometimes. Some days she gave me the fortitude to go on and reminded me of the possibility of a miracle that could preserve me. The possibility did exist, but the environment we were going into was very challenging, very hot and at the germane stages of the outbreak of the virus, there were no vaccines developed yet, little resources deployed, few volunteers available, enough to match the outbreak, it was like the world was dealing with a new beast and we were put in the front line.

That day I finally left. Could remember it vividly. It was some minutes past 4 a.m. My wife was able to catch some sleep. So I decided I’d just steal out of the house and go catch my flight. I could not stand the emotional goodbye. I might change my mind. Looking down at her beautiful face as she lay in serenity; I kissed her and silently whispered to my son; my work here on earth is probably done!

 The End

This post is dedicated to families dealing with the loss of a loved one who was some way involved in the fight against the Ebola virus as a health worker or doctor.

Rest in Peace Dr Ameyo Adadevoh. Her work ethic, passion commitment and drive helped us contain the first case of Ebola in the country (Nideria), as she unknowingly treated and contracted the virus and died of it. But her tireless efforts saved us of more casualties.

“Unknown to Dr Ameyo Adadevoh , Patrick Sawyer was already terminally symptomatic with EVD. Mr. Sawyer, on admission denied having been in contact with any person with EVD at home, in any hospital or at any burial. So, on 21 July, Mr. Sawyer was being managed for Malaria. He had tested positive for Malaria parasites.

 But, once she struck upon the possibility that Mr. Sawyer was EVD-positive, she immediately isolated/quarantined the patient, commenced barrier nursing and simultaneously contacted the Lagos State Government & the Federal Health. It required someone with Dr Ameyo Adadevoh 's capabilities to firewall Mr. Sawyer & limit the contamination that he would have inflicted. For that, she paid with her life. She refused for him to be let out of the hospital in spite of intense pressure from him and from outside.

 At risk to her own life, she knew she had to keep Patrick Sawyer in or the nation was doomed. She paid the price.

Because of the circumstances of her passing, there may be no grave to memorialize Dr Ameyo Adadevoh” culled from tweets by @omojuwa on twitter

We should never forget such a beautiful soul.

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