Whilst we stood there he woke up with a smile. Initially I felt a surge of anger and indignation about to overflow in me. How could he smile after his actions had resulted in the death of many? I didn’t care about his own state, as far as I was concern, like me, he deserved it. Without being prompted or questioned he said “God bless you all for coming, I am grateful to be alive for only today…I don’t need tomorrow, all I need is today…I see it now…I wish I saw it before but thank God I have just a day” he removed the pillow covering the handcuffs and said “I am free now”. I did not understand what he was saying, he seemed to have become mentally unstable to me but when I looked into his eyes, I could tell he was not faking it. So I concluded that he is insane anyhow. Whilst still looking at him with bewildment, Mrs. Fimie slipped her frail but trembling hands into mine and asked me to take a walk with her away from the group. I could see tears beneath those glasses; I naturally assumed them to be emotional sympathy for Mr. Ewang’s mental state.
This was my first time seeing Mrs. Fimie crying, I was disturbed to see such a sight. She led me towards the West Wing of the Hospital, the Orthopaedic ward. It was quiet with few patients. We sat at the out-patient section. I knew she wanted to tell me something serious because by now she had lost her usual composure and finesse. She removed her glasses, wiped it clean from her tears, put it back on, looking directly at me without her usual charm and smile but with her hands on mine, she said “you are like a son to me and since the day I heard I insisted that you must handle my file so that I could see you always, pray for you and keep an eye on you for him and her sake”. I was complete lost as to what she was saying, I was confused and as I attempted to ask her a question she said “don’t interrupt me yet until I am through” and I said “yes ma”. She asked “Have you seen my children or husband before? I have not always been living in this country. I was born and raised in Kenya but met my husband on my cross posting at Ghana when the company sent many of us for training in 1964. I was of the Presbyterian background; my dad was the choir leader and my mom was the head of the Protocol unit. Immediately after their marriage in Nigeria, the church posted them to Kenya. My husband was from Congo. He was in Ghana for his Masters in Business Administration, he was in the Catholic church” She paused for a while with a smile on her face, reliving a good old time I guess… “I met him on the campus of the university, we got married in Ghana and we had Matthew, Halima, Eno and my baby Omin. Ghana was good but let me not bore you and go straight to the point” she composed herself, drew in some air and continued… “In search of a neutral church to attend as a family in Ghana, our neighbour; Nene introduced us to her church. It was a regular Pentecostal church but something was different about them. They were full of life and energy. It was all about Jesus Christ too but there was more. They said it was the Holy Spirit of Jesus. Yes we have heard and have been taught about the Holy Spirit but we have not experienced the Holy Spirit like this, in fact we had not experienced the Holy Spirit at all. They referred to the Holy Spirit as a person “Him” and said He was a Comforter, He guides, He directs, He helps. They said when God said in the Old testament that he will never leave us nor forsake us in Deuteronomy 31:6 &8 and Joshua 1:5, it was the Holy Spirit that accomplished it and when Jesus reiterated it in the New Testament in Hebrews 13:5, it is still the Holy Spirit that is accomplishing it.” She stopped, her face frowned ... “you remember the Rwanda genocide? I answered “yes” unsure of the tale but uneasy about what I might hear….
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