Dr Sam Edwin couldn’t believe the state of the weather as he looked out in the direction of the casement from where he sat in his tiny Lagos consulting office room. The weather was cool and windy; the clouds floated above, thick and dark, and moved on away into oblivion. It was soothing. He settled into the chair with a very deep sigh. Today he had had his worse surgery experience; nobody would have understood he was not to be blamed for the death of the lady patient that was wheeled in half conscious from a fatal car accident site reported to have been somewhere in town.
He had to write a report, a general description of that surgery session in a chronological order. The police would be interested too but the Chief Medical Officer would be more interested. He would also have to answer the questions of the hospital executive board. And when the family of the lady was identified and informed, he would be perfectly wrestled down by a wailing mother and the other bereaved relatives who could only do little to curb the pain of their loss. He drew his pen, set the office paper sheet for convenience, and scribbled on.
The sky had grown darker by the time Dr Edwin made it out of the Hospital building. His whole nerves ached. He got feebly into his car, revved up the engine and burst into the Lagos traffic. Through the Island he steered off to his residence on the mainland. He was grateful that the road was not jammed as he approached the Mainland leaving the Island far behind. The car radio whispered lowly. On air there was news about the arrangements and preparations for the forth coming national election. The voters’ registration will commence. The government was promising this time that the process would be electronic. The news triggered in his mind the disappointments of the far and near past concerning the national votes. He remembered his son telling him he could never take part in any of the national vote exercise, and how disappointed he had felt when he had tried in vain to make the young boy understand the reason to take part in the national vote. He turned off the radio, and focused on the road ahead.
The next morning, Dr Edwin received a call. The caller was anonymous; he spoke softly without any intention to identify himself.
‘I think I should be speaking with Dr Edwin,’ the caller said.
Dr Edwin hesitated for a while, and then answered discreetly, ‘Please who is this?’
‘You are not to know me now,’ the caller replied. ‘I have something I will like you to see, and that’s why I am calling you’
Dr Edwin was surprised. ‘I don’t know who you are.’
‘Yes, I want you to see something.’
‘I believe you will be able to help me understand this thing better.’
Dr Edwin paused for a while, and wondered who was on the line, and what this thing had to do with him. ‘Where do you want us to meet?’
The caller muffled out the address where they should meet, and the time.
‘I will try to be there,’ Dr Edwin concluded, and the line went off.
He stared at the phone in utter disbelief and curiosity, and then went on preparing to leave for the hospital.
(C)Ahmed Hassan, 2011