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CHAPTER 8
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2024-10-29 19:42:56I was told the Vicar was terribly sick of a cardiovascular disease the doctor called Myocardial Infarction (Heart attack). He had been rushed to the state hospital some days ago. We both decided to go pay Vicar a visit on his sick bed. Sandra and I had become close friends. Oh, you thought I didn't tell her about my clowny misfortunes? I did! You wouldn't believe it, after telling her, her love for me doubled. She became curious to know me more. An irony isn't it? We became close.
We both set out to the intensive care unit of the state hospital. There we saw the vicar who was always looking hale and hearty looking so pale and sick. The sickness struck him so hard to a point he was demanding 'mercy killing' from the medical personnels. You can imagine. I felt bad seeing the man who loved me so much in such horrible state. Sandra never felt different, sadness was written all over her. He was admitted to WARD 24 where he would wait for a Coronary Bypass Surgery. We both had to s
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Nurse Florence wasn't reluctant after she was paid a lump sum of #500,000. She didn't even think twice before accepting the offer. Moreover, Chinua did well in convincing her to give in. Money is indeed the root of evils."He is in ward 24, a fair-skinned guy, wrapped up in a purple blanket, that's him! Inject him with something lethal and take his life without hesitation. Let him go and be singing with the angels in heaven."She smiled, they shook hands afterwards. They had struck a deal!The night was cold, probably cos Shagbo was in its mid-harmmatan season. The mid-night before the dawn of vicar's coronary bypass surgery, vicar was giving some kinda reactions I never liked. He was talking like someone about to kick the bucket, giving some farewell speech, wishing Sandra and I luck in our endeavors in life and all."Vicar, can you please stop all these? You will not die, this surgery will
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And so, on and on ,like the osscilation of a pendulum, the disheartening piece of my bio churned while the sands of time dripped slowly and slowly as it watched my narration irks the soul of the spectators. That I thought, but it appeared to be nothing but a blunt lie. It was a revolving piece of gags and laughs. A piece of funny cake, a chunk of interesting cheese, a loaf of an adventurous bread and a real ginger to the spirits of the audience. They applauded.I took a decision to brighten up and go kind of complicated. I hallucinated via traveling through the roads of time to a world of hope. The hope I couldn't give probably my careful friends, you know them. I mean the ones who never fell into the snare of clowny unfortunate mishaps SANDRA, SOLOMON and IK (my fi
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Yeeeeee!!!” IK’s voice rang out.And then it began!“IK?” Florence jumped out of her sitting position in a flash, rushing to her first son. Chike was right at her heels, reaching IK in a flash. IK held his chest as pain engulfed his face.
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One hour after closing , IK wasn’t back yet. Florence was beside herself with worry. She couldn’t keep herself calm as she paced the small confines of her roadside shop. Florence rubbed one sweaty palm nervously against the other as her eyes remained glued to the road, scanning every commercial bus that rolled by for her son. He should be back by now!Florence came out of her shop, avoiding the small puddle of water on the floor – an aftermath of the downpour of rain barely an hour ago - and walked a few steps to the shop directly beside hers to check the time for pr
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Florence wiped the tears that rolled down her cheek with her left hand as she bit hard on her shaking lips, almost drawing blood. She was on pins and needles, there at the waiting room of a family friend's hospital, waiting for word on her son's state. Florence wiped at her cheeks again as she stood up from the stiff hospital bench for the umpteenth time, feeling restless. She could hear the wild beating of her heart, she could see nothing but the tears that clouded her eyes; but when her gaze became clearer, all she could see was the image of her son lying painfully lifeless in her arms.
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Florence stood at the door of the hospital ward as tears streamed down her face. Her lips shook wildly and she made no effort to stop the tears flowing down her cheeks. She walked slowly into the room, staring at the hospital bed, just a few steps away. Her bloodshot eyes were blind to the two other occupants of the room, as she walked like a zombie towards the bed that held her interest. She got to the bed and stared through streaming eyes at the frail form of her son lying on the bed, unconscious. She ran her eyes over his pale innocent face as tears made a fast trek down her hot cheeks. No! She couldn’t accept this. Never in her wildest dreams and nightmares did she even imagine that her son would be a candidate of an hospital ward, looking like a complete shadow of himself. Leukemia… Cancer of the blood… The doctor’s words echoed in her ears, causing her chest to squeeze
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Tomorrow, IK returns to the hospital! The children had no idea. Since the previous day, with Sandra’s cooking, they played so much, even Sandra seemed to loosen up a bit. It was just like old times in a way, but then, it wasn’t. IK’s strength was very low, he couldn’t keep up with his siblings, and no matter how much he tried to hide his weaknesses from his parents and siblings, pain always finds a way of making itself known. IK had no idea what was wrong with him, Florence doubted he would even know the extent of his illness if she told him he had cancer. Despite his high maturity, he was still a little boy.
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“C’mon, give mummy a smile” Florence muttered with a weak smile on her face. We’ll be back very soon, I promise” Florence murmured as she crouched before her kids. Pastor Peter and his wife stood behind the children. Their small travelling bags and school bags had been carried inside but still, the children were not smiling. Solomon looked on the verge of tears. Barely two years old, Solomon was too small to be left alone. Visha stared mutely at the ground, while Sandra had a deceptive calm look on her face. Her pride wouldn’t allow her show just how much this was affecting her; somehow, that was more heartbreaking than even Solomon’s tears.
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The judge yawned, after several minutes of conotating judgement. clerk at alert, witnesses trembled."The second revolutionary law would give non-mortgageable and non-transferable ownership of the land to all tenant and subtenant farmers, lessees, share croppers and squatters who hold parcels of five caballerías of land or less, and the State would indemnify the former owners on the basis of the rental which they would have received for these parcels over a period of ten years.The delegation of Cuba to this assembly, first of all, is pleased to fulfill the agreeable duty of welcoming the addition of three new nations to the important number of those that discuss the problems of the world here. We therefore greet, in the persons of their presidents and prime ministers, the peoples of Zambia, Malawi, and Malta, and express the hope that from the outset these countries will be added to the group of Nonaligned countries that strugg
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The never ending law suit continued."This brief explanation has been necessary because it is basic to a consideration to which few people, until now, have paid any attention - soldiers have a deep respect for the feelings of the majority of the people! During the Machado regime, in the same proportion as popular antipathy increased, the loyalty of the Army visibly decreased. This was so true that a group of women almost succeeded in subverting Camp Columbia. But this is proven even more clearly by a recent development. While Grau San Martín's regime was able to preserve its maximum popularity among the people, unscrupulous ex-officers and power-hungry civilians attempted innumerable conspiracies in the Army, although none of them found a following in the rank and file.The March 10th coup took place at the moment when the civil government's prestige had dwindled to its lowest ebb, a circumstance of which Batista and his clique took advantage. Why did th
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The honourable judge got a bit angry at what he said. He could'nt hold his calmness." Why such interest in silencing me? Why is every type of argument foregone in order to avoid presenting any target whatsoever against which I might direct my own brief? Is it that they lack any legal, moral or political basis on which to put forth a serious formulation of the question? Are they that afraid of the truth? Do they hope that I, too, will speak for only two minutes and that I will not touch upon the points which have caused certain people sleepless nights since July 26th? Since the prosecutor's petition was restricted to the mere reading of five lines of an article of the Social Defense Code, might they suppose that I too would limit myself to those same lines and circle round them like some slave turning a millstone? I shall by no means accept such a gag, for in this trial there is much more than the freedom of a single individual at stake. Fundamental matters of princ
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Having been bound by the law, he stood before the jury. he was banned to speak. However, his lawyer wasn't. he ambled before the deck, ready to defend his client's course."Honorable Judges,Never has a lawyer had to practice his profession under such difficult conditions; never has such a number of overwhelming irregularities been committed against an accused man. In this case, counsel and defendant are one and the same. As attorney he has not even been able to take a look at the indictment. As accused, for the past seventy-six days he has been locked away in solitary confinement, held totally and absolutely incommunicado, in violation of every human and legal right.He who speaks to you hates vanity with all his being, nor are his temperament or frame of mind inclined towards courtroom poses or sensationalism of any kind. If I have had to assume my own defense before this Court it is for two reasons. First, because I have been denied legal aid al
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Papa Moses climbed up the pulpit. Humbled in spirit, he began to dish out the contents in his mind."ladies and gentlemen,Today, Sunday, in all parishes of the diocese,who so far have not suffered from war damage themselves, kept the collection I ordered for the residents of the city of Munster. I hope that through the intervention of the responsible state and municipal authorities and through the fraternal help of the Catholics of our diocese, whose donations the Caritas offices will administer and distribute, we will succeed in alleviating many needs.Thank goodness: For several days, new attacks by opponents of the war have not reached our city. But unfortunately I have to say it: The attacks by our opponents in the interior of the country, the beginning of which I discussed last Sunday in St. Lamberti, have been in the last week, regardless of our protests, regardless of the heartache that this causes those affected and prepared for their rel
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“Describing an execution of an innocent man scene, how will you be like?” Chairman asked.Everyone expected something funny, it was time to laugh. Laughs.“Okay,I shall be very little heard of anybody here, I shall therefore speak a word unto you here.Indeed I could hold my peace very well, if I did not think that holding my peace would make some men think that I did submit to the guilt as well as to the punishment. But I think it is my duty to God first and to my country for to clear myself both as an honest man and a good King, and a good Christian.I shall begin first with my innocence.In truth I think it not very needful for me to insist long upon this, for all the world knows that I never did begin a War with the two Houses of Parliament. And I call God to witness, to whom I must shortly make an account, that I never did intend for to encroach upon their privileges. They began upon me, it is the Militia they began upon, they confessed that
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Ralph burst into an unneccesary laughter when he saw his fellow speaker climb up the stage. Dennis never cared. He began quickly.“Ladies and gentlemen, I have only thirty minutes in which to speak to you this evening, and I, therefore, will not be able to discuss in detail so much as I can write when I have all of the time and space that is allowed me for the subjects, but I will undertake to sketch them very briefly without manuscript or preparation, so that you can understand them so well as I can tell them to you tonight.I contend, my friends, that we have no difficult problem to solve in America, and that is the view of nearly everyone with whom I have discussed the matter here in Washington and elsewhere throughout the United States -- that we have no very difficult problem to solve.It is not the difficulty of the problem which we have; it
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"Some years later I returned to Warren. It seemed that the whole population was out for the occasion. I was received with open arms. I was no longer a demagogue; no longer a fanatic or an undesirable citizen. I had become exceedingly respectable simply because the Socialists had increased in numbers and socialism had grown in influence and power. If ever I become entirely respectable I shall be quite sure that I have outlived myself.It is the minorities who have made the history of this world. It is the few who have had the courage to take their places at the front; who have been true enough to themselves to speak the truth that was in them; who have dared oppose the established order of things; who have espoused the cause of the suffering, struggling poor; who have upheld without regard to personal consequences the cause of freedom and righteousness.It is they, the heroic, self-sacrificing few who have made the history of the race and who have pa
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RALPH sipped from a mug."Let us review another bit of history. You remember Francis J. Heney, special investigator of the state of California, who was shot down in cold blood in the courtroom in San Francisco. You remember that dastardly crime, do you not? The United Railways, consisting of a lot of plutocrats and highbinders represented by the Chamber of Commerce, absolutely control the city of San Francisco. The city was and is their private reservation. Their will is the supreme law. Take your stand against them and question their authority, and you are doomed. They do not hesitate a moment to plot murder or any other crime to perpetuate their corrupt and enslaving regime. Tom Mooney was the chief representative of the working class they could not control. They own the railways; they control the great industries; they are the industrial masters and the political rulers of the people. From their decision there is no appeal. They are the autocrats of the Pacific coast&mdash
