Behind the Eclipse

by Pramudith D. Rupasinghe

  ‘George,’ she called my name with her usual over emphasised R.

  ‘Dr. Michael told me to talk to you,’ it looked like she found hard to ask questions as she was a good friend of mine.

  ‘How do you know that you came to contact with…?’ She continuously struggled to pose her first open question for me. But, by then, I had already passed the time of emotional roller-coasting. I had come to report the incident and seek for immediate care to try my last resort of survival for the sake of my family who had kept enormous dreams built over me as the head of the household.

  ‘Doctor I was trying to help Dr. Michael in stabilising that little boy who passed away last night.’

  ‘Then?’

  ‘He had vigorous convulsions and in trying to turn him to a safer position, the glow and the end of the sleeve had opened exposing my wrist which had probably hit somewhere either on the bed or on bottle rack.’

  ‘But how……?’ I knew her question.

  ‘Yes Doctor,’

  ‘He had already been bleeding,’

  ‘But,’

  ‘I had a negligible cut, rather a scratch mark on my wrist which was bleeding very little,’

  ‘Ok…. And how do you speculate that you had come to contact with the virus?’

  ‘Doctor, First, I thought it was my blood caused by the little cut on my wrist,’

  ‘Then what did you find?’

  ‘When I went to wash my wrist, I noticed one side of my sleeve soaked with blood which was obviously not produced by the minor cut I had on my wrist.’ I could not talk anymore, just like dark clouds gathering in the sky in seconds in August, all distortions conquered my mind. I felt dizzy and extremely distressed.

  ‘You told about this to anyone?’ Dr.Irina`s question made me silent for a couple of seconds.

  ‘Yes, with Dr. Michael,’

  ‘I mean, your loved ones …’ She kept looking at my eyes.

  ‘Doctor,’

  ‘Yes, George,’

  ‘My wife does not know I am working here.’

  ‘Hmm,’ her sigh was loud enough to be heard from the other end of the long table where we were. I felt it as a storm that was taking trying to take the roof of my house.

  ‘What have you told them?’

  ‘Doctor I do not stay with them since the day I started to work in the ETU. I want my family to be safe and, at the same time, to find some more money for their education for a better life. That was the reason why I single-handedly decided to come to work in the ETU leaving the clinic in the country office. I stay in Elwa junction, in a single room and I visit my family at weekends. That is also when I feel safe. I told my wife that I was going to the field often and stay in the counties.’ I took a deep breath that relieved me.

  ‘George, you know, they should be aware of you,’ she kept looking at me while saying so.

  ‘I know, but I was afraid to tell. I did not want their dreams to be shattered into pieces.’

  ‘I feel how you felt. George, I can imagine your situation, but now things are different…’

  I fell silent as I did not know how to open my mouth and talk to Aminatta about what happened. I knew that for all the questions she would ask, and I would not have answers but lies to escape from what I had already told. I was not sure that might not work this time.

  ‘Doctor I need your help to talk to Aminatta,’ I could not resist tears pouring down my cheeks.

  ‘Well, we will do it … let me talk to Michael first,’ she said empathically which relieved me.

  After a while, Dr. Michael, Dr. Annabelle and Dr. Irina came to see me. I saw a clear sign of sadness on the face of Dr. Annabelle that she could not hide.

  ‘Doctor,’ I said.

  ‘I am sorry… I am extremely sorry,’ Dr. Annabelle said.

  ‘We will go and meet your wife and probably, will take her here for you two to talk for a while, George,’ Dr. Michael said keeping his hand on my shoulder.

  ‘George, you know the procedures when someone in the staff comes into contact with Ebola virus?’

  ‘Yes Dr.,’ I replied to Dr. Annabelle knowing that I would be quarantined for 21 days.

  ‘We arranged the staff quarantine room for you, and we ensure you will be very well taken care of,’ Dr. Michael said.

  ‘Your salary will also be paid,’ it was Dr. Annabelle who wanted me not to worry about the family.

  Dr. Michael and Irina left to meet my family while Dr. Annabelle was taking me to quarantine facility made for the staff which was better equipped with conditions and facilities than observation ward where external patients were kept waiting for confirmation of their EVD status.

  40

  In the late afternoon, the awaited moment came. I knew it was Dr. Irina and Dr. Michael when I heard the knocking on the door.

  ‘What she said…Aminatta?’ I asked Dr. Michael while opening the door. The following second was a surprise that my eyes could hardly believe. She was calm, but I noticed a drop of tears barely hanging on an eyelash waiting to fall just like a drop of dew at the tip of a leaf.

  She looked at me from top to bottom, and when she looked down, a drop of tears silently embraced the rough concrete floor as if there was no other choices.

  I could not but clenched my teeth till they emitted an unnerving creaky sound to resist the pain induced by guilt and helplessness that were trying to ejaculate out of me. I could not utter a single word but keep looking at her for a few seconds. A silence that was pregnant with thousands of untold words of love, sorrow, hatred, desperation, guilt and sympathy retained between us till Dr. Michael interrupted in his usual jumpy voice which startled me.

  ‘George, we will leave you two for some time, do not worry, you would not infect her at this stage, and above all, you are only a potential contact. Take your time and talk.’ The level of empathy manifested by Dr. Michael was just a strong evidence of his professional maturity developed over the decades working with highly contagious diseases.

  The moment Dr. Michael and Dr. Irina left, Aminatta fell over the floor hard as her heart was heavier than her whole body and started crying loud while tears ran all over her face just like the waters of the fresh rain running all over the dry ground before being absorbed.

  I could not but reach her and hold her for a while, but I could not stop her hysteric crying. The following second tears started pouring down my cheeks again.

  ‘You cheated me o; you cheated me,’

  ‘You liar,’

  I silently bore her accusations. She was right in consonance with her sentiments, and I was right according to my very intentions. But what had happened was not right for anyone of us. But I could not escape from the guilty consciousness of not saying the truth to the family as well as taking a life threatening risk that might throw my family into street.

  I did not know how long I was with Aminatta. When I raised my head, I saw Dr. Irina at the door looking at us, resting her chin on her palm.

  ‘Doctor,’ I said hesitantly.

  ‘George,’ her voice was emotionally loaded. She kept looking at us as if she had run out of words to talk.

  ‘We will take you back home now. And you can talk over the phone whenever you want,’ she said while stroking the head of Aminatta.

  I remained calm yet pensive with distortions that were in a constant battle with each other. Aminatta was trying to say something, but her voice did not come out. She walked out with Dr. Irina, and her eyes were looking at me till she disappeared behind the door. I dared not lift my hand to wave her as I did not want it to be a permanent gesture of parting.

  That night I felt relief for some reason, deep sorrow for some reason, perplexity for some reason and guilt for many reasons. On top of everything, I feared of losing my life. I was on a road that led to desperation but in search of hope. I dared not close my eyes as I
did not want to see my children and Aminatta staying back when I was crossing the gateway to where my ancestors were living.

  It was around three in the morning; I heard calling of an owl that reminded me of the day Oldman went missing in the bush.

  ‘When an owl calls desperately, a catastrophe follows,’ my grandmother used to tell whenever she heard an owl calling.

  ‘This time it should be me,’ I thought as I felt that it was a calling for me. Since the day I found the blood of the boy on my sleeve, I anticipated nothing but the call of death.

  The Reverend Philip who used to say that the life was always swinging between light and darkness, but this time, I could not imagine any light but the darkness that extended to infinity.

  I thought more about how Aminatta and our kids would survive without me than my life which was under death warrant. George II, Princess and the small one, all of them would not see me, and Aminatta, who had just gathered her ruined life, and it was again going to be shattered. But this time, she would have to put the pieces of three other lives together without the support of George, who had been with her almost in everything for the last decade. As I kept on thinking, negativity invaded just like a flash flood and took control over every single cell of my head.

  ‘Good morning!’ I was startled hearing the voice of Dr. Michael. Then only I realised that I had passed another night in insomnolence and with baffled thoughts.

  ‘Did you rest well?’ Dr. Michael asked while he was reaching me for the regular temperature and symptom monitoring.

  ‘Not much,’ I said frankly.

  ‘You want to meet Irina?’ He asked looking at my eyes that looked tired and lifeless.

  ‘No doctor, it is ok.’ I was just tired and wanted a time in tranquillity so that I could navigate in my own thoughts without any distraction. And I badly expected a call from Aminatta even though we did not have anything pleasant to talk about.

  ‘Well, in case you need to talk to her, just let me know. However, she will visit you in the afternoon while visiting the patients in observation ward.’ Dr. Michael turned back to leave the room.

  ‘What happened to the girl?’She too could not make it?’ The sister of the boy who passed away was on my mind. I craved for news about her.

  ‘George she is gone.’ What Dr. Michael said was barely heard. I knew his weakness was getting closer to the patients more than advised and as a result, he always ended up hurting himself whenever they passed away.

  ‘Oh God!’ My teeth were not strong enough to resist the combined force of shock and sadness.

  ‘It is good in a way that they both have gone to the same place,’ said I.

  Dr. Michael could hardly cross the doorway when my phone rang. Even he knew who that was. ‘Tell Aminatta that we do take care of you well,’ he said and left closing the door behind him.

  Aminatta and I talked a few times every day. She gradually realised that all that I had been hiding was because I wanted to give them a better life although Satan could not bear to see our happiness. She cried almost every time we talked and asked me to pray aloud which I often did.

  ‘Read the Bible aloud and pray for God every single hour!’ She said even though her faith was different. She tried her best to keep my moral up. But she cried at the end of the call. Right after she hung up, I felt barrenness as I was on supervoid.

  ‘Morning!’ The ritualistic part of the day`s first call was missing that day.

  ‘You are fine?’ She asked abruptly which suggested that there was something wrong somewhere.

  ‘Aminatta what is the problem, tell me. I am ok,’ I said in one gulp.

  ‘Princess came from private class, and she has high fever,’ Aminatta started crying. I felt a sharp pain spiralling around me and entering into my heart. I felt woozy and could not hear her clearly anymore.

  After a while, I saw Dr. Michael in his PPE, Dr. Irina, and Dr. Annabelle.

  ‘George,’ Dr. Annabelle`s sad expressions hinted me something bad to have happened. As my immediate thoughts were linked with my daughter Princess, I thought she had been admitted here.

  ‘Princess is here?’ I asked as it was the only thing possible to happen.

  ‘Princess?’ Dr. Michael asked as if he had never heard about my elder daughter.

  ‘Yes, Princess my daughter,’ I replied.

  ‘No George, we came …,’ Dr. Irina paused what he was trying to say.

  ‘The sample we sent to the lab has tested positive,’ Dr. Michael said indifferently. I knew his style, even though he was every empathetic person, he always communicated with a direct and clear language which I respected.

  ‘My God!’ I could not believe what I just heard.

  ‘I do not believe it,’ I said, and an unconscious aggression had crept into my behaviour without my knowledge.

  ‘Wait!’ Dr. Michael said a bit louder.

  ‘We are trying to get you the best care, and we wanted to make sure you get the required attention in advance,’ he added.

  ‘And we need your support for fighting this battle George,’ Dr. Irina said walking towards me.

  The counselling session with Dr. Irina helped me to accept my situation, even though I did not believe that it was real; I was going to fight a virtually impossible battle that many of the patients failed and gave up at the end, under the same roof where I was about to be sent to, ‘Reserved for Confirmed Cases.’

  My life surrounded by the red fence started even though I did not manifest any symptoms that we talked about.

  It was unbelievable that a boy who survived an elephant attack, multiple displacements and so many challenges in life, had simply surrendered to Ebola—renamed Bush-curse. I felt I had already given up my life though the doctors had given me a hint of hope. My family was the only reason behind my battle. But I was not happy about taking me to the ward of confirmed cases because I did not believe that I had contracted the disease even if the results of laboratory test proved that I was positive for Ebola virus.

  41

  In the same way, the gravel roads in rural Liberia eroded turning out to be impassable little rivers when the rain started in early May, my assumptions about probable non-contraction, being asymptomatic for a few days, started slenderizing with a sore throat and slight headache that came from nowhere.

  ‘Very good morning George,’ It was Dr. Michael. He had come to the ward a little bit earlier than usual. He had come alone which indicated no one had been hired in place of me. I used to go with him every single ward round and for emergency cases management. He relied on me to a greater extent, and so did I.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ He took my temperature while talking to me.

  ‘Doctor, I have sore throat and a slight headache,’ I reported my symptoms.

  ‘You have got the temperature as well,’ he looked carefully at the tiny screen of the electronic thermometer and wrinkled his forehead.

  ‘I felt it,’ I said as I had already felt a slight body temperature and it seemed to be rapidly rising.

  ‘39 degrees.’ I slightly heard what Dr. Michael was speaking to Dr. Annabelle who just entered the room.

  ‘George!’ Dr. Annabelle came in drawing everyone’s attention to me. It was almost the same moment Dr. Michael left the ward, but it was just like a decade of constant suffering because my headache, sore throat, and fever had progressed in minutes. When Dr. Annabelle asked me how I felt, I could not respond to her as I was shivering with the fever which reminded me of the night chills when I had Malaria. I did not have enough energy to think and talk. She kept on looking at me for some time and turned back to go.

  I watched her silhouette going blurred through the door that separated the ward and the dead body management unit. I wondered if it was my next destination.

  My mobile phone rang a couple of times when Dr. Michael was with me. I knew it was no on
e else except Aminatta. I had nothing good to share with her, but my underlying thoughts were engaged with Princess who had fallen sick. I wanted to listen to Aminatta even though I was in a condition where talking one word could exhaust the energy I had in my body. I rang her thrice, but no one picked the phone which was not common because she usually picked the phone immediately.

  ‘What could have happened to them?’ I worried. I had got my own battle to fight; a battle I fought for them, for their well-being and future. But, hearing one of them sick at home at the time of Ebola, affected my ability to endure.

  I rang Aminatta again, and she picked the phone, but instead of her voice, I heard a noise of vehicles and people which indicated me that she was on the road or in a taxi.

  Next morning, I had already developed diarrhoea and severe pains in my muscles and weakness. Sore-throat remained still but not as intense as it used to be, and I could not eat anything anymore. I did not have the appetite and the pain in my throat prevented me from trying to push something along. Even though I managed to go to the toilet a couple of times in the morning, I could not walk out of the ward after mid-day. My legs started trembling; I felt dizzy and shaky. On top of it, fever retained throughout the day with occasional chills.

  My telephone rang by eight in the evening.

  ‘Allo, Allo, Allo,’ The voice was not clear for me, but the accent was not Aminatta`s. I first thought that there might be something wrong in my ears. But later I discovered that I was wrong.

  ‘Father of Princess? George?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said.

  ‘I am Pauline from ETU in Kakata. Your daughter and wife were taken to the treatment unit…..’ I assumed she was a nurse. She paused as if she wanted me to talk, but I could not believe what I heard was true.

  ‘Father of Princess? George?. I am Pauline from ETU in Kakata. Your daughter and wife were admitted to the treatment centre....’ I heard the echo of what I had just heard.