I Owe a Great Deal of My Incisive Thinking to Prof, the Iconic Figure
Professor Hassan Saidi, the man, the myth, the legend
You don’t dress like you’re 21
He said these words to me one evening as I was leaving the histology lab.
I was just from another failed attempt at making slides using the department’s progressively disappointing microtome.
Depressingly unforgiving microtome.
A microtome, you see, is a lab machine that cuts thin slices off body tissues that are embedded in solid wax. These are then attached to slides and stained for microscopic examination.
The results have been similar since I started cutting my wax blocks.
I have only been getting wax dust after wax dust. I had a few sample slides but they could hardly compare with those of my colleagues.
It was stressful.
And after a long unsuccessful day, our supervisor, Prof. Hassan Saidi, jumps at me with:
How old are you?
21
21? You don’t dress like you’re 21
I had a mind to tell him I am just from the lab and fashion was the last thing on my mind.
But there are retorts you can only keep to yourself when you’re with the Prof.
As a class of four students, we were so close we simply called him Prof.
Prof, The Man
My brother introduced me to Prof. Saidi when he was taking me through the registration process on the first day of medical school.
On the same day, there was another quintessential researcher, Dr. Jeremiah Munguti.
I confused one for the other. I thought Dr. Munguti was the Prof. Reality dawned later in the year.
Prof was one whose questions would leave you dumbfounded.
My brother remembers when he was asked to develop the corpus callosum for his final year viva exams.
The corpus callosum!
This is the band of fibers connecting one half of the brain to another. We have always had lectures on how the brain develops, but the corpus callosum?
That was a stretch.
Somehow, he managed to proceed to the next year. Considered by medical students and doctors to be the hardest topic in the first year of medical school, he had conquered not just anatomy, but survived the one-on-one experience with Prof.
Prof, The Myth
I had to spend an entire year with him pursuing my intercalated course. And one of the questions I can never forget from his was:
How old are you?
After jeering at my unique dress code, he took me to his office. He wanted to show me how 21-year-olds dress.
Again, I wanted to remind him those pictures are from models. But I could hardly win an argument against him. You hardly ever won any argument with him.
My other supervisor, Dr. Pulei, walked in. I thought we had settled the matter, but Prof was on a mission.
Imagine he’s 21. Can you believe it? And he doesn’t dress like it.
I took this as an opportunity to also lash at him
Prof, I would dress better if you could only pay us. We haven’t received our promised monthly payments in a while.
This must have been the only time I left him speechless. The only time.
After a brief pause, he would insist:
You must have two things: A tailor and a barber.
You see, Prof could dress up when he wanted to. I mean really dress up.
His hair was always short and trimmed. I guess his barber was responsible for that.
Then there’s the tailor. One time I spotted him outside campus, in a three-piece, single-slit, pin-stripped suit. It fit him to a T.
My 21-year-old self could hardly consider having either of the two. Life was throwing jabs at me left, right, and center.
And here was Prof, adding others.
It must be known that these were light jabs compared to the kind he would throw at us in that secluded room of torture. At any particular time of the day, or night, he would pass by and ask:
So, what are you thinking about?
Having laid his keys on the table, it seemed like had had all the time in the world to dissect our ideas. He would hammer them down, blow after blow until they looked lifeless. Then, as if he had not done anything, say:
Anyway, what do I know?
He’d then leave, smiling.
You had to love him. His point was to build you up by revealing your weaknesses.
I remember telling him my idea, of how the popliteal vein was something that interested me. He listened intently and asked:
So? Yes, we know vessels have variations, and they have sheaths surrounding them. So what?
Now I was speechless.
We later learned he did these small exercises to make us read more into our ideas and form solid defenses.
In short, I attribute my initial journey in critical thinking to him.
He would flip an idea by asking piercing questions. Even if you had a graduate student with you, defending your case, he would still find a loophole.
I remember my classmate, Isaac Kiptum, being drilled until he dropped his concept. From our perspective, the idea was brilliant. But Prof tore it down, ripped it apart and laid it bare.
His idea was on pulmonary vessels. The concept looked good, but it took an outsider to give it perspective.
Isaac later developed another idea, much better than the previous one.
Prof would build you by exposing your weaknesses. But these were his strengths. I would wager all my classmates that year would agree with me when I say Prof. Saidi built us wholeheartedly.
But strengthening and breaking ideas were not just his strongest suit. He was a good storyteller.
Prof, The Legend
Prof knew how to have a good time.
It showed in his gait and the spring from every step.
He once told us how he would party the whole night only to show up the following morning to conduct student reviews. He did this with Dr. Odula, who was also his close friend.
The other stories would come up during the tea sessions we had in the morning at the Chiromo Funeral Parlour.
Up until we discovered he has been living with cancer for a long time. You could never tell.
His was a life of stoicism.
We got to see it upfront when we visited his home. He grew up in Kibera and rose to standards we can only aspire to achieve. His contribution was immense such that on the day of his funeral, his coffin was carried by residents throughout a good part of Kibera.
If that is not deep reverence, I don’t know what is.
Yes, I have started writing on Medium. But how I dissect ideas can be traced to my interactions with Prof, both brief and lengthy. And in his honour, I have to write an article about him.
Professor Saidi wrote a paper on myocardial bridges. He did not know he was creating bridges in our hearts. Bridges we can never burn.
His impact will always be felt.
He will always be remembered.
Not just by my older self, but by my younger, 21-year-older self.
And I really need to get a tailor.
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