In A Strange Land — My Diary (Part 4)
CHAPTER 4: THE GOOD THE BAD THE UGLY

I’m losing count of days, can’t tell off head how long I’ve been here. Work is getting realer but I’m integrating much better. The nights have been super cold, nights I pull over my blanket missing warmth (had I listened to the myths of ‘Tamale the Desert’ and left my blanket home). The stars have been loyal to the skies, showing up every night in their numbers as the skies always stay in crystal view even when the rain sets in. Tamale is a whole different world than what I thought, and yes it is beautifully serene. One morning I caught a glimpse of both the morning sun and the moon in their full glories up high, and these skies never run out of detailed sketches with their bright but few clouds.
My sleeps are restful, no noises except the morning call to prayer which fits the right tic of my alarm, yet there are mornings I sleep through it. Oh, yesterday I saw the man who makes that call to prayer on my way back home, it was ludicrous to see him cover both ears with his hands while attempting to break everyone else’s eardrum. And didn’t the devil deserve that high five, when he started coughing after shouting (smiling). Payback is a … Imagine his confusion when I smiled and waved at him.
The mosquitoes got me, caught a bad shake with the chills. I’m fine now, but these creatures hover around every day and I can’t seem to get rid of them. Makes me miss the girl who claps a reflex at mosquitoes even when we were at a formal meeting that required silence in school. Hello Jemima!
I’ve been able to learn a different language for the first time. Well just clinical phrases that gets the job done. I still wear a smile when they lengthen their welcome and start speaking in sentences, at the end of the long talk I just say Amen and that’s when the spirit finally reveals to them this fake Dagomba man blessed to have a beard.
I tried Tuo Zaafi with that green sticky soup. Sorry it wasn’t nice. I wish it was but I can’t lie. I don’t know, maybe I’ll try it again sometime. Tumbani is still king.
I’m yet to feel bored, even though I’m yet to visit any spots or hangouts. I’m guessing this just seals the school of thought that I’m a lone wolf by default and an addict to adventure and new things. It actually hit home when a friend asked me if I miss home. Now I’m scared how addicted I can be to myself.
Ow! How can I forget, I did my first surgeries, from knife to skin to thanking my anesthetist. I thought it’ll be this super amazing feeling that will push me to write pages, but… I guess it’s my mind again, always stealing my rush, adrenaline junkie, living my dreams before I actually reach them. How did it feel? Well it felt like I’ve already done that before. Wonder why I want to specialize in trauma and orthopedics or emergency medicine? We all have addictions, don’t we?
Ok enough about natures gifts, let’s talk about lives now.
Growing up to the idea, to always give people a 100% trust till they prove me wrong has gifted my world with hidden pure hearts over the years. Then there’s that old saying I’m always faithful to; look more, listen more and talk less. Those two rules are keys to discover people. In my little adventure here, your guess is as good as mine, these keys keep opening doors. Doors to the good, the bad and ugly.

Meet Mr. Memo, the first to earn my trust. One of the few people on God’s green earth you can hand a task to a go to sleep on it, knowing no matter how long it takes, somebody will get it done. It takes time as he always says, ‘I will raise a memo up’ but in the end he always remembers and gets it done with the little power he has. That relieve when the vibration of my phone ushers his name on the display — you can call that mission accomplished. Can’t say same for the blessed people above him — and you wonder why life is not fair. He never took the ‘green memo’ I handed to him as a gift.
Then there is Mr. Cool guy, everyone’s favorite medical officer. Calmed by confidence, willing to share knowledge and lead by example. Not scared to get his hands dirty when something needs to be done, even when it’s below him. Easy to approach, easy to chat with. He put the needle holder in my hands on my first day at work, and we made something awesome in theatre — a dose of confidence.
Mr Microphone, my man! (In Denzel’s voice). In the morning, he’s a janitor dragging the bins to their collection points and mopping the floors. In the afternoon he’s everybody’s favorite security man; his hoarse voice shouting orderliness around the wards. Why I code named him microphone? If you’re looking for any relative to a patient, or anybody outside, he’s that PA system that gets it done and you can be assured they’ll be found. He has the look of Chuck Norris, and the stare of Jason Statham. I once asked Mr. Microphone to interpret in Hausa to a patient my understanding of her condition and for a minute I thought we’d just started a fight with them. Can you get the picture? Well that’s still my man but never again, Mr. Microphone, do you have to be my linguist, there’s a wide gap between how we like to handle the conversation thing. I’ll stick to the calm soothing old Marvin Gaye way while you do the Chinese movie thing. My man! Yet to forget to say good morning to him whenever God gifts us the bright lights.
That moment when you meet someone for the first time and others give you a thousand reasons to wear your defenses around her; but you stake for the odds, keep an open mind, give them a level playfield of respect and humble to allow them define their own self and then the coin flips — she ends up being one of the nicest people you’ve ever met. Well I guess that’s me in summary; but this isn’t about me today, so meet Mrs Intimidating; named by what I was told. Not far from truth, but somehow she ended up being one of my closest allies and teachers. Somebody I can always approach and even though I’ve become a bumble bee in her ear, she always listens and guides my way around the difficulties; but only after she tells me how vexatious I can be (Thought mama was the only one who knew that, busted!).
Then there is Mr. Money Man. Well I call him that because his orientation basically said, ‘how to refuse to be broke while giving all to this job of philanthropists’. I remember calling him one time to discuss a case and it ended up as an hour long lecture dating back to pathophysiology. It was a good chat you can bet, had not felt that since I left Korle-bu in Accra. Of course I took advantage of it, I call Mr. Money Man anytime he dashes by to discuss one or two cases and steal some knowledge.
Then there is Mrs. Ambiguous. Well I can’t really tell… I remember she asked me why I needed to discuss a case when I already knew how to manage it, and a week later asked me why I did not discuss the same kind of case with somebody senior to me even though I knew how to manage it. Zzzz!!! Now you wondering why she made it to good. Well she is a gold standard here, you can’t take that from her. A siphon for knowledge — I don’t mind tapping in even if that means a minute in Fallujah.

Alright I’m done. Where you expecting something said about the bad and ugly? Well, so long as this stays published (just like many of my unpublished and never to be published pieces) I’d rather not start a round, leaving bullet trails. So yes I’m done. But I’ll be damned if I don’t mention the top two ‘ugly’, Mr. Cocky and Miss Smurfet. Tempting, tempting, tempting, but I’m not going to break it down today. I might vibe to who Miss Smurfet is turning out to be now, but Mr. cocky, God tame us all.

Credits:
I believe in the diversity of people and I see some trace of beauty in whatever shade of demeanor I see in them. Writing the gallery of my mind doesn’t condemn anyone, it’s just a tracing of the neuronal sparks on my mind. The part my silence cages till my fingertips start to write.
