Dawn- Part 4 written by Adefunke Ogunsanya

It's a continuation of the unpublished book written by my beautiful Sisy, Adefunke....we are loving it! If you missed the previous chapters kindly search for "Dawn" within the blog to catch up.

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“Wah wah wah wahhhhhhh….” It sounded like a baby’s cry for food. I refused to alight from the car that drove us from the hospital. I sobbed with flowing tears like a newly discovered river from the local village stream. 

“Ma sukun mo. Don’t cry again. Accept it as the will of God” Aunty Bukky persuaded.

All feel on deaf ears as I continued to scream at the top of my voice. Family members gathered under the canopy.

Reminiscing, sister Boye and I had gone to the hospital to join big mommy. We were still denied entrance into his ward. Only uncle Debo was allowed to go in after big mommy had insisted that at least one person should be allowed in.

“He is doing fine and responding to treatment. The doctors say he should be out of comma soon” Uncle Debo assured us after he had gone in.

Earlier, big mommy had shouted angrily at the doctors, nurses and anyone who cared to listen.

“Tell me, why I can’t go in to see my husband. You have denied us entrance since we got here.  I demand to see him immediately.

The dark young doctor replied calmly and respectfully “We apologise for any inconveniences caused. Your husband is in a critical state and it will be unethical on our part to let you, his children or anyone into the ward. We are trying our best to ensure you don’t see him in such a delicate state. It is also to make us give him the full necessary attention. Once he is out of the emergency room, you would be allowed to see him as many times as you wish.”

His explanation was sensible enough to keep everyone quiet. In the waiting room, we kept our ears on ground. Uncle Debo went in and out of the room. He assured us everything was in place.

He bought drinks and biscuit for us since we had not eaten breakfast. Meanwhile, sister Boye’s phone rang repeatedly as people who heard of the incident wanted conformation. The event planners told us that some guests were ignorant and went to the wedding venue in their aso-ebi.She also said she informed them that the event had been postponed till further notice as sister Boye instructed. I imagined her explaining to the guests and how she would exaggerate like a typical Nigerian.

Aunty Tojo, big mommy’s sister and a close family member had suggested that the wedding should still hold regardless of what had happened. Sister Boye replied bluntly,

“I cannot imagine any wedding with my dad lying in the hospital in a comma. The wedding can wait.”

Some guests and sympathizers had found their way to the hospital.

“Nobody should be granted access into this hospital. We will appreciate our privacy please” Big mommy instructed the nurse in charge. 

However, sister Boye’s finance, Uncle Dare joined us.

“Baby, I’m so sorry for everything.” He told her after she lamented “I can’t believe what a day I have dreamt of all my life is turning to .Instead of my wedding taking place, I am waiting for my dad to come outta comma.”

“All is well Boye” He answered her

“Lord, what sort of thing is this? I prayed before coming to Nigeria. I prayed that everything should go on well. I sure did!”

“Sorry darling.”

It seemed hearing sorry triggered more anger and outburst.

“The leaders of this country are yet to put security in place. The police have promised to get to the root of this matter but I know nothing will come out of it. No electricity, no water, no food, how wouldn’t the rate of crime be high? Power is placed in the hands of those who are not even half qualified. I am tired of this country. My wedding plans have been ruined.” She cried out again “I told dad we should settle for U.S. or Dubai for the wedding. He insisted that ‘there’s no place like home. See what is happening now.” She mimicked dad’s words emphatically. “He said all his friends are here. Can you all see what it’s turning out to be?”

“It is well Boye. Your father will be fine and the wedding would still take place whether the devil likes it or not. Everything would be back to normal.” Big mommy calmed her.

Uncle Debo came out of the emergency room and said “Everything is fine. He is responding to treatment” but our halleluiah chorus was short lived when we saw nurses and doctors running in and out of the emergency room. We tried to find out what was wrong.

“Please remain calm. We are doing our best. No interruptions please.”

Five minutes later, the doctor came out of the emergency room to address us.

“I’m sorry. We lost him.”

Dad was wheeled out of the emergency room with his face and entire body covered in white cloth. We displayed our various talents in crying. Even Uncle Debo the only man we had around couldn’t hold back his tears. He sat on the floor sobbing. It was official; a day of celebration had turned to a day to mourn!

The burial was scheduled for that day according to Muslim rites. Arrangements were made to bring the corpse from the hospital and other things were put in place.  Pa. Ajao, the eldest man in the family had instructed that the graveside should be dug in front of the bungalow. Six men dug energetically removing sand from the ground to create a role. 

A long exercise book was placed at one corner of the sitting room and sympathizers wrote in it. The doctor pronounced him dead at 11am and the autopsy stated he died as a result of internal bleeding and multiple bruises.

During the burial, the Imam for an hour, lectured us on how to accept faith and dad’s death as the will of God. He reminded us that everyone would die one day. He said dad’s death was the will of Allah.

I sat on one of the front seats. Everything happened in a twinkle of an eye.

Dad was put underground at exactly 4pm. The obituaries, newspapers and other broadcasting media told the world. He was aged fifty-five and he died on the much awaited day.