On July 21, 2014, I was in Calabar, peacefully engaged in the compulsory service to Nigeria. Meanwhile, hundreds of kilometres away, a certain woman saved me from getting infected with a deadly virus with a fatality rate of about 90%. In the year 30 AD, it is believed in Christianity that a man gave himself way to be killed so that many others, even those unborn, might be saved. The man’s name was Jesus Christ. In 2014, many centuries later in Nigeria, this doctor, with the knowledge of a possible infection and death, saved a nation from an epidemic called ebola. Her name was Stella Adadevoh. This viral outbreak had turned Liberia and Sierra Leone to pariah countries. Although, it is probable for this selfless act to get lost in the political wrangling between the state government and the federal government on who takes the credit for the eradication of ebola (who could blame them though it was an election season), but some of us choose to remember Dr Adadevoh’s as the singular person who even made the glory to be sought available in the first place.
Under pressure from an international government to release the patient zero, Patrick Sawyer, from the hospital, she stood her ground to save her countrymen and the most populous black nation on earth. Her great grandfather Herbert Macaulay had fought for Nigeria’s independence more than 50 years earlier. A country like ours would have been the most perfect breeding ground for the virus to fester. We come in contact with bodily fluids at every turn- the headrest on the danfo, the alabaru at Oyingbo brushing you with his sweaty arm, the ablution area in most mosques. The devastation would have been deadlier than Liberia’s. The health sector which had collapsed would never have been prepared. The strike embarked by doctors then proved to be a blessing in disguise as it ensured that Sawyer was not taken to the government hospitals which are always crowded, thus, risking more people getting infected. This makes Adadevoh’s act more prominent and heroic. Not a virologist herself, she could have run to save her life when Sawyer chose to deliberately infect others by spilling his blood and other body fluids in his room. But she chose to stay to restrain the patient- a decision which proved fatal. On August 19, 2014, she fell to the deadly virus.
Finally, in a society that fails to reward valiant actions, it is noteworthy to remember Dr Adadevoh on this anniversary of her death. Ma’am, thank you for saving us from an impending doom. Your sacrifice will not be forgotten in this corner.
Not all heroes wear capes; some are in lab coats.
Image sources: DRASA and naptu2
The Yoruba tribe has the highest rate of twin
births in the world. Igbo-Ora, a little town in Oyo state, has been nicknamed Twin capital of the World because of its unusually high rate of twins
that is put as high as 158 twins per 1000 births. In a video on YouTube presented by Titi (a white lady who speaks Yoruba), and which was centred on twin births in Igbo-Ora, one of the locals boasted that every family in the town has at least one twin! The following is the oriki for all we twins in the world. Enjoy!
Ejire oyila winiwini loju orogun,
ejiworo loju iya re
Mba bejire mbayo,
O be kese be kasa,
ofese me jejeji be sile alakisa
o so alakisa di onigbaso,
okan ni mba bi mba yo,
sugbon meji lowole tomiwa,
Gbajumo omo ti ngba ikunle iya,
ti ngba idobale lowo baba to bi won lomo
Ejire ara isokun, edunjobi omo edun tin sere ori igi
Epo nbe, ewa nbe, aya mi oja lati bi ibeji
Taiyelolu ma yo se se,
mayo se se
Ejire oyila, ema yo se se, nbabi edunjobi
mba yo pe mobi oba omo.
Edumare bawa da awon Ibeji wa si.
Kindly leave ur comments :)!
The time is 8:16am but the weather says 7:19pm. The earth is about to receive a very soothing visitor. Everyone has been expecting this visitor to save us from the horrors of the heat of the past few weeks. IT IS ABOUT TO RAIN! The weather is so tense that you feel it in your soul. Women hurry to collect their clothes from the line- dry or otherwise. You sit here, on the edge of your ruffled bed, wondering about the unknown.
Then the rain begins. It is so heavy that you wonder if it had won a bet against the sun and the sun was cuddled up somewhere mourning its loss. It’s been 40 minutes and you wonder if the rain goes back for reinforcement every 40 seconds. There seems no end in sight! You have now moved to the verandah, sitting alone on the brown KGM plastic chair savouring the fresh air accompanying the rain. The plants heave a sigh of relief. The lizards and ants must now be cuddled up somewhere and the mosquitoes must be resting now, after the night’s battle.
Several thoughts crowd your mind. This seems a perfect weather for two or tea or even, both. With Yanni’s Nightingale playing in the background, the occasional thunder serving as bass to the soft-playing Nightingale and the wind carressing your body, your system reacts to the change in temperature. You think this is an awesome time for you to be in bed snuggled up to your better half; inhaling his/her breathe and pleasant smell and feeling the presence of no third party. Then, you wonder what the consequences will be after the rain had long gone. You think of the result of your action in the long run & your (in)ability to deal with it. Is this really a weather for 2? Of course, it is, but with it comes consequences & responsibilities. So you’d rather settle for the latter- light the gas cooker, boil some water and make a very hot tea. This has no consequences except that you’ll find yourself sound asleep, under your floral blanket, with no 2nd or 3rd party involved!
Hunter being hunted!