Munachi

|Chapter 25|

“Please, go back to sleep now,” I simply say.

“Where am I? What happened?”

“I think you were involved in an accident, but you'll recover.” I hope.

He closes his eyes, and I begin to adjust his pillow, making it comfortable.

“Where am I exactly?” His eyes are open again.

“Don't think about that for now. You need to go back to sleep so you can get better.” I spoke firmly but gently. He doesn't have the strength to argue. He closes his eyes and sleeps.

As I lay listening to the even breathing of the man beside me, I suddenly feel uncomfortable sleeping here in the same room with a stranger. I quietly rise up and pick up my blanket. I slip into the lounge and sit down on my softest chair, pulling the blanket up and cover myself. Then, I instantly fall into a deep slumber.

When I wake in the morning, I have a crick in my neck and my back aches. Jamal is just crossing the room with my tea tray. He doesn't notice me curl in the chair. When I tell him good morning, I startle him that he nearly drops the tray.

As I sip the tea, rubbing my neck in an effort to the kink out, I wonder if I should try to get hold of someone who can drive William Constant to Bamenda in a more comfortable vehicle than my old lorry, rather than waiting on Dr. Frank.

I finished my tea and realize I'd left my dressing gown hanging behind the door in my bedroom. No matter, my patient will be sleeping. So I get up and quietly open the door to the bedroom.

“Who are you? Where am I?”

I jump and turn to the bed. I grab the dressing gown and wrap it around myself quickly. “Hello, how are you feeling this morning?” I say in a brisk nurse's voice.

“I've felt better.” He tries to lift his head up, but instead, let out a groan of pain. He lay back on the pillow.

“Don't move, Mr. Constant. You're very lucky to be alive.” I speak in my professional tone, smiling as I look into William Constant's eyes at last. It has been a long wait. I call Jamal to bring a fresh glass of water for the patient. “You need to keep your fluids up, Mr. Constant,” I say.

“Am I no longer in Cameroon?” he asks, shutting his eyes. “You don't sound Cameroonian. Which part of Africa is this?”

“No, you are still in Cameroon. I'm just not a Cameroonian. But I've grown fond of this country if you ask me.” I say the final words in the french Cameroonian intonation. I pause. What was I thinking? Joking with a man I'd never spoken to in my entire life! But I see him trying to smile at me gratefully, through his crack, dry lips.

Jamal brings the water just then, and I hastily recover my professional demeanor and hold William's head up so he can drink a little. He sigh and sinks back into the pillow, exhausted. He closes his eyes.

I stand watching him for a moment. I gather some clothes from the closet and go to dress. My heart is light and happy. My patient will surely survive. But what on earth had possess me to joking with him like that?

For the next week, William sleeps most of the time, waking occasionally to drink some water. I feel I can leave him alone now, and I go out more often to supervise the work on my clinic. Not much has been accomplished without me there to keep the workers motivated, but at least the ground is now cleared of bushes. At last, the foundation can be laid.

I was very grateful when the church back in Nigeria told me they were willing to support me in building of my very own clinic here in Cameroon. The church is mostly famous for assisting and giving to the less privilege and those in need. Been a devoted worker, helping out with building of the clinic is like a reward. Both from God and from the church. Now I hardly wait to have a place to receive my patients properly. The sooner I establish my station, the sooner I'll be able to request an assistant. Perhaps one day I can persuade the mission society to send a doctor as well.

At the end of the week, I decide to take Astrid up on her invitation to visit her. Leaving Jamal in charge of the patient, I get dressed, crank up the lorry and head off towards Maroua.

The Vincents' parsonage is made up of a beautiful array of smart, neat bungalow with a beauteous garden.

Astrid rush out to greet me the moment I pull into the driveway. “Muna, you did come! I thought you wouldn't find the time. Come on in and have something cool to drink. You must be exhausted, driving all the way by yourself.”

She guide me inside the cool lounge while she keeps up a happy chatter. After seating me on an armchair, she takes a seat on the sofa nearby and rings a bell for tea.

“Now, dear, tell me all about William Constant.”

“He's come out of fever,” I announce, “and I think he's going to be alright.”

“Well, praise the Lord, Muna! You saved the poor man's life. If that isn't just the most romantic thing I've ever heard of, I don't know what is! Tell me, what is he like?”

“It's hard to say,” I reply, taking a dainty little cake that Astrid passes to me. “And he says very little. He still sleeps a lot.”

“What are you going to do with him now that he's getting better? I suppose you'd better send him to Bamenda.”

“Yes, but Dr. Frank asked me to keep William here because he isn't in town yet.”

“Ah, so you're on a first-name basis with your gentleman friend, are you?” Astrid's eyes are twinkling mischievously.

“No, I'm not,” I protest. “I just got tired of referring to a man who was sleeping in my own bed as Mr. Constant, that's all.”

“In your bed! Of course, I'd forgotten about that. You wouldn't have anywhere else to keep him, would you? It's so romantic, though. You must admit that, Muna.”

“No, I don't admit anything of the sort, Astrid. The man is at death's door. That's not romantic at all. In fact, it's exhausting if you're the one trying to keep him alive.”

But Astrid isn't to be deterred. “That's what makes it so romantic, you. You've saved his life. Tell me more about him. Was he surprised to find himself in your care when he woke up? Oh, tell me everything! I'm just an old married woman, and I need a little romance in my dull life!”

I laugh in spite of myself. I have to admit that it's nice to have a friend like Astrid, who teases me and cares for me and actually enjoys my company. By the time I find myself cracking up my lorry, it's almost time for supper.  Astrid had tried to persuade me to stay and eat with them, but I insisted that I wanted to be back home before dark. I haven't been away from my patient for so long before, and I'm beginning to worry in case he has taken a bad turn while I'm not there.