I HAD earlier spoken about intubation. It is a medical procedure involving the insertion of a flexible plastic tube into the trachea (windpipe) through the mouth or nose to maintain an open airway, deliver oxygen, or facilitate mechanical ventilation (life-support machine). It is used during emergencies, critical care, or anaesthesia to ensure gas exchange when a patient cannot breathe independently. Or, as in my case, where there is respiratory failure/distress: when a patient cannot breathe sufficiently on their own because of severe pneumonia or COPD.
Different people may have different experiences regarding it since it takes one to a hallucinatory world. In my case, I imagined myself with just one eye, with my head in a glass box through which I viewed the world. You know, the kind of box they used to sell meat pie, or chop one, some decades ago. And you will see yourself wandering all over the world, sometimes recalling childhood memories long forgotten.
It was in this state that I saw myself, where I imagined a gate of no return, once you pass through it. A lady was standing there, and I overheard her telling someone that his time was up, nothing more to do. Something told me that I would be dying if I kept silent because it meant I agreed with her opinion. So I quickly told her I had things to do, things to amend, and needed to go back. She looked at me for a time, dispassionately, and told someone, “Let him go.” This was the point at which I assumed I turned back from that gate.
Kois is an Arabic word that means good, nice, well, or okay. It comes from Egyptian Arabic and is often used at Al Shifa, likely because most of the doctors and nurses there are Egyptian. People use it to describe something of good quality, a good person, or to say everything is fine.
A worker will come and say, for instance, “Gimba, how are you?” and I would say “kois”. Or they may just say, “Gimba, kois?” and I would say “kois”.
When I was intubated, I also saw myself wrapped in a shroud, among people to be buried. I heard them saying I was in the next batch. I told myself why a living person would be buried. There was a shackle on my neck, and I pulled it out. A nurse, whose name I will disclose later, supervising the burial, turned to me aghast, I guess, because I had escaped.
He said, “Gimba, why now?” I turned to him and said “kois”. That was how I “escaped” being interred (lol).
After the tracheostomy, the doctors next had to wean me off dependence on life-support machines and oxygen. The problem was with the oxygen-supply machine; you feel so comfortable that you would not want to leave that zone. This was made all the more difficult because my lungs had not been working at all, while my chest was stiff, and now the challenge is to awaken them. Without the machine, I found it difficult to breathe; it was very gritty, like rubbing sandpaper on concrete, making me feel like I might not last the next five minutes.
I heard a doctor telling me that I had to start breathing naturally. When they removed the oxygen-supplying machine, I could only breathe with the utmost difficulty. I told the doctor I would not do it, and he said, “Then I must intubate you again.”
I thought he was bluffing and wanted to call him out. I said, “Do it”. Before you could say kois, I imagined my one-eyed head in a box. I shouted, “I will do it”, and the “magician” brought me back to normal. Then he said what touched me, “Hassan, we want to help you, but you must also help us.” From then on, I resolved to help myself and thought of the saying, “no gain, no pain”.
I thought of my family, friends and associates, my loved ones, and I said to myself, “You can do it”. And perhaps, just perhaps, I also thought of further blackening the heart of an enemy. I adopted a method of breathing taught to me by Coach Kalid, an Egyptian physiotherapist at Saudi-German: Breath in deeply through the nose and exhale slowly from the mouth.
In life, a human being normally has other humans he looks up to and draws strength from, in most cases, living beings. This is because, in your mind, they embody what you aspire to be, and so to you they are fighters, strong men and heroes.
To Allah, in whose Hands my life is, and Who gave me more time, Adamu Maina Waziri and Honourable Mai Mala Buni, the governor of Yobe, were the two people whose faces were engraved in my mind while going through that difficult breathing experience.
People may see them as different or even opposite personalities. No, they aren’t. Both of them fulfil promises and will never tell you what they know is not true. They are loyal to those who attach themselves to them and can go to any length to defend a loyalist.
They are forgiving. In their lives and careers, they have been betrayed, yet they would welcome back the betrayer if he showed remorse.
The difference may be that Waziri has a strong personality and infectious charisma with palpable strength – characteristics some see as depicting arrogance or trouble-seeking. Come close to him, and you will be surprised at how humble he is. He may serve you food and collect the dishes.
Mai Mala, on the other hand, too, has steely strength that is deeply hidden behind an unassuming facade. But he is also as humble as they come. If he knew you thirty years ago, and you met today, he would interact with you as you did at that time. You will be the one to pull back, knowing his status.
Well, Waziri knew me when I could not know him. Being a childhood friend of my late cousin, Dr Mohammed Mamman, he might have known me when I was barely out of my napkins!
The first time I spoke with him was when he was an S.A. to Adamu Ciroma in the Federal Ministry of Agriculture. He facilitated my getting a contract to print posters for the 1995 World Food Day, christened “Water is Life”.
Politics brought me close to Mai Mala, a very generous soul from the outset. Sometimes, when he visits you with his generosity, you will forget the two words “Thank you”. Your first instinct would be to kneel and say “Forgive me”. I overheard his fellow Governor from a North-Eastern State bordering Yobe State, eulogising him in public, addressing him as Dogo mai hanun kyauta or “The tall man with the generous hand”.
The bond between Waziri and me must have been established, or solidified, by my late father, Alhaji Suleiman Gimba Ahmed. There was a day he called me and said, “Hassan, I met with Adamu Waziri today in Fika, and I told him to take care of you.” And I still recall when he (my father) was on his way to Nasarawa State, accompanied by Alkali Mohammed Ahmed (aka Alkali Yaro ba kunya), they stopped over at Waziri’s house. When they were leaving, he held Waziri’s right hand, brought up my right hand and joined them.
We were in the same camp as Mai Mala in the People’s Democratic Party (PDP) 2023 gubernatorial primaries. When the Action Congress (AC) was formed in 2006, he became its first Yobe State Chairman, and I became the first State Secretary.
It is little wonder that I looked up to these great Yobeans whom Allah (SWT) has elevated to the level of affecting national affairs.
Waziri and his wife, Hajiya Zulai, visited me twice at the hospital. Mai Mala has also sent a representative, Alhaji Shettima Alkali, to visit me, and he helped a lot with the hospital bills.
It was a pleasant surprise seeing the people who visited me in the hospital. Apart from those I mentioned, the Consul-General (like an Ambassador) of our Embassy visited me twice, likewise his deputy and one member of the embassy staff. Professor Hauwa Mohammed Sani, Dr Abubakar Usman, Ibrahim (Iro) Madaki and many others, some I know, some I don’t.
My Government College (GOCOMAID) colleagues of the 1982 set showed me that we were more than classmates, but brothers from different parents. Our forum, though founded by me, is coordinated by Liman Shettima. It is powered by Shettima Alkali Imam, together with Ambassador Umar Iliya, the Fulani boy (to us) from Joringel, just outside Damagum, who Allah (SWT) has elevated to a national political player. Shettima, a “bamblasta”, whose generosity has “blasted” almost all colleagues in need and Ambassador Umar Iliya are really utilising Allah’s blessings on them to make our mates (who life has not been smiling at) laugh in joy.
It is the same with my Shehu Garbai Primary School 1977 classmates. These wonderful souls, in these hard times, just like the GOCOMAID chaps, too, contributed money for my hospital bills. And they were always on the phone, communicating with my family. Indo (Aisha) Buba Ardo, Misan Obiatan, Amina Musa Kida, Mohammed Kumalo Abubakar Barde, Salamatu Umar Baba and others. And even our big brother, Ahmadu Musa Kida, another Shehu Garbai product. I also acknowledge that the Vice President, Kashim Shettima, sent me his contribution through Lawan Kolo Geidam. The NSA, too.
Meanwhile, to everyone, I say kois, until we meet in the next edition to discuss Al Shifa Hospital and its staff, plus other things, In sha Allah.
- Dr Gimba, anipr, is the Publisher and Editor-in-Chief of Neptune Prime. His syndicated column, The Arbiter, appears on News Point Nigeria newspaper on Monday.