How Carl Pistorius Dogged a Charge! Bang Bang Bang

The team prosecuting Oscar Pistorius believed it had a case against the athlete's brother Carl for defeating the ends of justice – but agreed not to if the defence accepted the chain of evidence related to Oscar's cellphones, including a handset removed from the crime scene.

Two separate sources close to both the prosecution and defence have confirmed that Carl Pistorius had his brother's iPhone for at least 24 hours after the athlete shot his girlfriend Reeva Steenkamp dead in February 2013.

Oscar was convicted of culpable homicide last month and is due to be sentenced on October 13.

City Press' sources confirm what's revealed in a book by Eyewitness News (EWN) journalists Mandy Wiener and Barry Bateman.

Their book, Behind the Door: the Oscar Pistorius and Reeva Steenkamp Story, was released today.

In it, Wiener and Bateman detail the police's desperate journey to Apple's headquarters in California to try and find out what was on the iPhone.

They failed, but, the two write: "What the police did establish through this exercise was that at some point the cellphone was synchronised with a MacBook – one named 'Titanium Hulk'. Only one person close to the accused has a fascination with the lumbering green Marvel Comics hero. It featured in his Twitter feed as quotes from comic strips; he wore green bandanas bearing the eyes of the behemoth; he edited pictures of himself to colour his own skin green; and one friend even remarked on social media, 'You truly are the Titanium Hulk'. Carl Pistorius. His Gmail address contains that very name.

"So this was what had put a spanner in the works – it was suspected that when the phone was last synchronised a new password had been created, so relying on Oscar's old password would obviously not have worked. To confirm their suspicions, a source said police were able to track the phone over the time it had been missing and compared it to data linked to Carl's phone, which showed a potential overlap. Both phones followed the same route over a period of days."

Police cellphone analyst Captain Francois Moller was supposed to start presenting evidence on Monday, March 24, this year.

"The weekend prior," write Bateman and Wiener, "there was a strong rumour among the media that Carl Pistorius was about to be arrested".

"Some had got wind that the Blade Runner's brother might be charged with defeating the ends of justice for allegedly removing the phone from the crime scene and tampering with it.

"But it wasn't to be – Carl was not arrested, nor was he charged."

A statement from the Pistorius family, issued jointly with the athlete's legal team last night in response to questions from EWN, read: "We are not sure of the allegations that are to be made or the source of such allegations, but we are not aware of any deletions having been affected by Oscar or effected on his instructions that could be relevant to this trial or could have impacted on this trial.

"As far as we are aware all relevant communications were put before the court. The relevance of the communications from Oscar's phones, iPad and laptop was properly dealt with by the court and ultimately played no role in the matter, this having been found by the court."

In the book, Bateman and Wiener write: "That Monday morning court started 11 minutes late and prosecutor Nel made an unexpected announcement to the court. Nel apologised to the court for starting a little late because the state had been 'engaging with the defence in terms of certain admissions'."

Nel made admissions, which he handed to the court, about the phones and how they had been handled by the police as part of the chain of evidence. That was the last of it, and Carl Pistorius was not charged.

"What had led to this unanticipated announcement of admissions being made by the defence related to the phones?" Bateman and Wiener ask.

"One might have expected that Oscar's counsel would have fought tooth and nail against the contents of the phone being admitted to a trial court with such ease. It was also expected that the defence team would challenge each and every step taken by the police investigators in securing information and maintaining the integrity of the 'chain of evidence', as is so often the case in criminal courts in the country. This was even more pressing in this trial, where the defence had blatantly accused the police of tampering and contaminating the crime scene. It all seemed too easy.

"Did anything happen behind the scenes while the prosecution 'engaged with the defence' on the admissions?"

City Press interviewed three independent sources with intimate knowledge of the trial and has been reliably informed that the state agreed not to prosecute Carl Pistorius with defeating the ends of justice if the defence accepted the chain of evidence related to the phones, including the handset removed from the crime scene.

Accepting the chain of evidence dispensed with the state's need to call the original investigating officer, Hilton Botha, who was seen by prosecutors as a liability.

"In hindsight perhaps we should have gone on the offensive but at the end of the day Gerrie Nel had to weigh up one evil against another – and the fact is Hilton Botha could have sunk the state's case," one source said.

A second source close to the National Prosecuting Authority said that because it wasn't clear what had been deleted from Oscar's cellphone, it would have been difficult to charge Carl Pistorius.

Oscar Pistorius Sentencing on Oct. 13, Father Speaks Out for the first time.

Oscar Pistorius, the Olympic runner dubbed the "Blade Runner," will be facing sentencing in October, after his trial regarding the fatal shooting of his girlfriend Reeva Steenkamp. Pistorius was found guilty of culpable homicide instead of murder on Sept. 12.

His sentence will be carried out on Oct. 13 later this month.

Pistorius had been initially acquitted of murder but he had told authorities that he thought an intruder had breached his home and was hiding behind the bathroom door. Pistorius had shot his girlfriend four times.

The sentence will be carried out by Judge Thokozile Masipa and will range from a timed suspension and a fine, or up to 15 years in jail. Judge Masipa was also the one who carried out the verdict.

Oscar's father, 61-year old Henke Pistorius had spoken out about his relationship with his son ever since the shooting on February 2013.

"We've said in various conversations and text messages we must get together and have a long talk," Henke had said.

"Since the tragedy, he hasn't had a decent talk with me. He hasn't yet talked to me from his heart. I know it's going to happen. It's going to happen soon and it will be good for both of us," he added.

Henke had separated from Oscar's mother, Sheila, when Oscar was still a teenager and expressed his regret at how he raised his children.

"Perhaps I was sometimes too hard on Oscar. I was strict. I think I could have spent more time with my children when they were small. But I had to work. I had to earn money," he said.

Oscar's mother had died at the age of 43 when Oscar was still 15 years old.

JUDGE MASIPAGOT IT RIGHT: Oscar Pistorius andthe intentionto kill

Yesterday Judge Masipa, sitting at the High Court in Pretoria, South Africa, handed down part of her much-anticipated judgment in the Oscar Pistorius murder trial.

To much public dismay, she held that the State failed to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that Pistorius had the requisite intention to commit murder. This is the standard for criminal liability in South Africa. Judge Masipa, as was expected, found Pistorius guilty of negligent (culpable) homicide. [UPDATED]

The preliminary view of analysts and commentators appears to be that Judge Masipa got it (horribly) wrong!

Eusebius McKaiser has — he admits (on his Facebook page) with incredible haste — commented that, “[Judge Masipa] did not apply the law to the facts correctly. She should have found Pistorius guilty of murder but instead offered unconvincing legal justification why she decided not to.” Professor Pierre de Vos (here) and Gushwell Brooks (here) raise similar considerations.

McKaiser’s criticism of Masipa’s reasoning is the following:

“Unlike in many other jurisdictions around the world, you can also be found guilty of murder in South Africa if you could have forseen that your action that you performed could kill someone, but you still performed that action, in effect reconciling yourself with the eventual outcome – death – that will result from your action…. So if Pistorius did not kill Steenkamp as a result of premeditated, unlawful action, it doesn’t yet follow in law that he is not guilty of murder.”

McKaiser is invoking the concept of “dolus eventualis”, which is itself not an unproblematic concept. The concept (which I attempt to explain below) found it’s way into South African common law (Roman-Dutch law) through German law. [Shannon Hoctor has written a useful review on the history of the concept in Fundamina (2008).]

Dolus eventualis: Why Judge Masipa is right

While it may be wise to wait for Masipa J’s full judgment and thus her reasoning, McKaiser’s (at al) criticism is not correct. Here is why, briefly:

1. Dolus eventualis has two components “a cognitive component, foresight of the possibility of harm, and a conative (or volitional) component, most often expressed as recklessness whether the harm will result.” (See Hector (above) and S v Malinga, 1963.)

2. The Supreme Court of Appeal has stated the test thus: “The question to be decided is whether the State has proven beyond a doubt that the appellant subjectively foresaw the possibility that his actions would result in the death of the deceased, and nevertheless persisted in his conduct.” (Shongwe JA in Makgatho here.)

What does Shongwe JA mean by “subjectively”?

3. Snyman’s view on this point: “A person acts with intention, in the form of dolus eventualis, if the commission of the unlawful act or the causing of the unlawful result is not his main aim, but he subjectively foresees the possibility that in striving towards his main aim, the unlawful act may be committed or the unlawful result may ensue, and he reconciles himself to this possibility.”

4. The test, therefore, is wholly subjective. According to the Supreme Court, “The fundamental question is not whether he should have accepted that the result would follow, but whether in actual fact he accepted that it would follow.”

In Oscar’s case, the State failed to prove this “actual reconciliation” beyond a reasonable doubt. In fact, it was not the State’s case that Pistorius foresaw that he was going to kill the “intruder” and reconciled to that possibility. Instead, quite befuddlingly, Advocate Nel (the State prosecutor) opted for what most of us thought was an impossible route – proving that Pistorius intended to kill Steenkamp.

It is worth noting that saying Pistorius “should have foreseen” that opening fire at the “intruder” would lead to the intruder’s death is negligence, not intention. That is a “reasonable man” or objective standard. A subjective standard is what Pistorius actually foresaw and actually reconciled himself to, as the consequence of his actions.

Is Nel’s cockup fixable on appeal?

The answer to this question is (likely) NO. As a matter of principle, courts on appeal do not interfere with factual findings of the court of first instance. The appeal court deals only with the law. What Pistorius actually thought is a factual finding.

Therefore, it will be extremely difficult, if not utterly impossible, to overturn Masipa J’s findings on the facts as presented or proven by the State.

Who said life isn’t a bed of roses…? Of course it is…. and roses have thorns right…?

Who said life isn't a bed of roses…? Of course, life is sweet….sweet when you're wealthy. I am not only rich, I am famous as well….Rich, Famous and… hehehe…. very handsome!

The Limousine was very close to the Staples Center, Los Angeles; venue for the 56th GRAMMY Awards. I had been nominated in seven different categories including the Honorium Glorium- Album of the Year. My very own album…whoa!!!

I liked the sound of it. It's not everyday that a young man from Africa gets a nod from the GRAMMY. Now it was not just a nod but 7 nods. Oh boy…

Outside was Chaos. The guards were having a very difficult time controlling the Mammoth crowd that had come to witness history in the making. They wanted to see this young African who was defying all odds, who was breaking all man-made and seemingly natural laws. They wanted me!

Wow! That's a new one. She tapped me, offering a glass of Champagne.

She was one of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen, but I hardly remembered her name.

After all she was just my liege for the event. i collected the drink and nodded my thanks.

Minenhle Dlamini ' , Perfect. I smiled at her again and said you are not on Soccer Zone today Ma'am.

Money, Fame, Respect, Love, Beautiful Women, Classic Wine.

What more can one ask for? Who said life isn't a bed of roses…?

The Limo stopped and the door opened. The delightful screams that greeted my ears when i got out was music, beautiful music; perhaps only bested by the ones that got me here in the first place.

I was almost deafened by the yells, and blinded by the flashing cameras. I posed for a couple photographs, signed a couple autographs, answered a couple questions-paparazzi style- then walked the red carpet to my reserved front-row seat.

First time in America, first time at the GRAMMYs, Front Row seat.

Could life be any better?

The show progressed as planned-spectacular performances coming at the speed of sound. i lost the first award I was nominated for, but after the sixth one, I had two Statuettes in my kitty. When I was called upon to perform my hit song Dreams, the ovation was out of this world with DJ Fresh The Big Dawg in the mix .

I got on the stage, did a verse and then pulled a stunt that got the crowd reeling again.

I invited Jay-Z, Zahara and Alicia Keys to the stage to do the remix of Dreams. It was awesome.

Me. Jay-Z. Alicia Keys, Zahara and DJ Fresh The Big Dawg himself in the mix, One song. One stage.

Who said Life isn't a bed of Roses…?

Then the big one. Album of the year. "And the winner is….." You guessed right; Me, myself and I.

The biggest award in world music was about to be mine. i who was from an almost insignificant Southern Africa ; I who walked the streets of Africa, hustling odd jobs just to meet ends; I…the number one artiste in world music.

Amidst hugs, cheers, back rubs and pats, i floated dazedly towards the stage. Then somebody touched me…. more like tapped me continuously…. till I woke up.

I woke up!

It was the damned conductor of the damned bus. We had arrived and he wanted his damned money. If looks could kill, that conductor would have been six feet under. i paid him and got off the bus, clutching onto my Demo CD.

Who said life isn't a bed of roses…? Of course it is….and roses have thorns right…?

(•_•)

The Ultimate Experience

Where i come from, £20,000,000 is a lot of money. But after my Guider Ultimate Search experience, i have come to believe that it is a LOT MORE money where some other people are from. I mean, I used to think i desperately needed money and fame, but there are thousands of people who need it more desperately.

I've been registering for the show since I became eligible in the 3rd season, and they've been inviting me for the screening, but something always came up.

This year though, there was no reasonable excuse because I was on holiday. Right now, as I type this piece from my bed, in pains, I wish I was reasonable enough to stay at home.

I thought I had muscles, until. got to the Stadium. See crowd; crowd of bouncers and practising athletes. If not for the fact that I actually travelled all the way to the Stadium for the screening I would have turned back. Well, that and the fact that I have a big ego. Any ways, i went in, changed into my sport kits and sat down on the pitch like others, awaiting my turn on the marathon.

So many things look very easy on TV. You see people doing it and you say, "piece of cake, I can do this too". Well, news flash guys; competitive MARATHONS are deadly. Especially if you've been sitting at home doing nothing but eat, sleep, read, write and get fat, like I'd been doing. Each group ran in 20s and depending on how competitive they are, everyone in a group could proceed to the next stage. Sometimes though, the slowest ones were dropped. The aim was just to see how fit everyone was. Coming first didn't matter. But coming last could.

Anyways, when others were running I was laughing at those who were far behind. I called them lazy goats. If they couldn't run ordinary 2 laps –800meters, why register for Guider Ultimate Search? Well, my turn was coming. And finally, it came. When the whistle went off, i hustled my way to the front. i was leading. I felt fly. All these kids ain't got nothing on me.

Well, when we rounded the first bend, I decided to slow down a bit. I mean, what's the rush? One person passed me, then two, then three, then …. After the first lap i was in the tenth position. By the time we got to 500meters I'd lost count of all the people who had passed me. After running about 600meters, I started hearing angels singing the Hallelujah Chorus. Brethren I was dying.

Then a voice started asking me to just stop and lie down for a while, just a little while. The wonderful voice told me it wasn't a do or die affair, I should just stop and crawl away from it all. i paused a little, looked back, saw four ladies far behind me One of them was Redi Tlhabi, muttered 'hope they' and trudged on. One of them eventually passed me before we got to the finish line of course it was Redi Tlhabi. I barely made it because the last three ladies behind me were evicted from the competition.

The next drill was 'squats': Deadly squats. The first set was stopped after 3mins, 20 seconds. You need to see people's legs dancing loliwe. i couldn't even laugh my head off because I was too tired from the marathon and I knew it was going to be my turn soon.

I mean, some people who topped their group in the marathon couldn't do the squat. How could I that came 17th do it? How? See how people were collapsing and screaming Jesus' name up and down, see how Redi passed me?  … my mind cut. Well, my turn finally came – the last set. They put the girls in front an put us behind them. The whistle went off and we squatted. It wasn't so bad at first. Till we hit two minutes.

I thought it was a joke when my legs started vibrating. My legs have never vibrated like that before. I started thinking about very abstract things: thermodynamics, bole, roasted fish, Mampi's music and finally the love of my life. That helped, till it didn't anymore. Then this guy ( Robert Marawa) in front of me (God bless his soul) started making small swinging motions. I copied him and it worked. Whenever I felt a bit relieved I stopped and when i felt like giving up i started those motions.

Front, back, left, right, people were just collapsing but I was having a ball, a terrible one though. After about 4minutes, the remaining ladies were asked to stand easy, I saw Redi Tlhabi smilling. I started praying. The swinging motions were not even helping anymore. People around kept collapsing but i stayed. Prayed. And… mercifully, the whistle went off, after five plus minutes. I was the only person who didn't collapse immediately. I did a few stretches and tried walking away like a boss. Thank God the camera didn't catch me when my feet buckled and I fell.

On to the next drill – different variations of 'picking the ball'. Zanaco FC had an CCL football match against Chiefs so we were moved to the stadium's handball court. I knew it was a bad idea the moment I stepped into that court. The main pitch was covered with the same material used in covering race tracks, while the surrounding was rough coal-tarred.

The balls were placed in front of the perimeter brick- wall and the aim of the game was to race across, pick a ball and return to where you started. The fastest runners were selected. When it got to a few groups before mine, a different variation was introduced. 12 balls were dropped while 20 of them had to race across and try to pick one. Only those who picked a ball qualified for the next round.

Well, I finally lined up. To hasten things up, 5 balls were added to. he 12 and 6 guys joined us. 26 macho men; 17 balls …Macky's 'Zero To Hero' started playing my head. I wasn't scared though. I may not be good with marathons but short sprints are my thing. And the distance to the wall was approximately 60 meters.

The whistle went off and we charged. Of cause I was in front of the guys around me. My eyes were set on the blue ball and when I finally got there, i grabbed it with joy. That was when it happened.

You wouldn't appreciate what I'm going to say if you've never been hit by a vehicle before. I had the ball firmly in my grip when about 4 bodies slammed into mine, American football style. i was later told that the sound my head made when it impacted the wall was heard at the other end of the pitch.

For about 10 seconds I didn't know where I was. The dis orientation was total. When i came round, the race was over and my precious blue ball was not in my hand. I shook the nausea off and strolled straight to the medical-van, close to where the 'winners' were assembled. Normally, those who didn't qualify were ushered out immediately so they won't blend in with the winners. It was like magic when nobody stopped me.

I just got to the doctor and said, "my head". He said he heard the sound too and gave me an ice-pack to press it with. He collected cotton-wool and started cleaning my knee. That was when I even noticed I was seriously bleeding there. I was just praying I hadn't gotten a concussion.

Anyways, after a while I felt better. I was supposed to immediately go carry my bag and go back home, but … i majestically strolled to where the 'winners' queued up to register their names and collect tags for the next round. Again nobody stopped me. I registered my name and collected my tag. I was in the next round.

Err….don't call me a cheat please. I had the ball in my hand before I was battered so it was only fair that i proceeded to the next round … on merit. I mean, I couldn't even chew anything that night because the left part of my head was swollen. How could i have suffered all that pain for nothing?

The next day was swimming. Long story short, we swam in fours. I came second and the 'fish' who came first (may thunder fire him very well) qualified for the next round. That's where my Search ended.

The idiots didn't even allow me use the changing room. They asked me to leave the pool premises with only my trunks on. I had to change at the parking lot. Truly, nobody gives a damn about you when you're not successful. But God will judge them anyway.

So many people have been consoling me and telling me next year will be better. I keep telling them I'm done. I have an engineering degree and in a few months I'd be done.

There has to be easier ways to make money men. This is not for me.

Later guys, the 'wicked' Maureen the woman that has been massaging my body has come.

**tears**

Word on the street: Have gratitude, not attitude

Colossians 3:15 – “Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful.”

Living life with an attitude of gratitude is both healthy and Godly.

The Lord expects us not to be bitter, angry, scared and full of complaints, but to be joyful, peaceful bold and compassionate.

Being grateful is a choice. Thankful people realise and acknowledge that all good and perfect gifts come from God, and that He ought to be thanked for them.

Ungrateful people on the other hand believe that the world owes them something, that their social or economic standing, be it poverty or wealth entitles them to certain benefits.

These kinds of people are often critical. They ridicule, slander and proverbially ‘bite the hand that feeds them’.

What kind of person are you today? You must always remember that there is somebody who looks up to you so much that they will embrace and imitate what you do without thinking twice.

You carry a lot of influence simply because you are made in God’s image.

Therefore instead of criticising other people, let us publicly applaud and celebrate what they do right and privately pray to God to strengthen them in their time of weakness.

I’m sure that’s how all of us would love to be treated.

It begins with you. Think of at least three people who could draw strength and courage from your compliments.

Now I dare you to find them and congratulate them to their face. Let us begin a new trend of true positive living for our children. It is never too late to make a change.

Here’s something to help you get started:

Father God, today I take responsibility and decide to be thankful.

Thank you for my life, family, community and nation.

I am grateful for your Son Jesus Christ.

Help me see and take advantage of opportunities to be both thankful and affirming to others.

I love you because you first loved me. Amen

Ebola: Ebola: The Ripple Effect

20-07-2014

A tear dropped from his left eye as he thought about Anna again. How could she be dead? How? Anna, the best sister anyone could ever have. Anna, his only sister … who made so many sacrifices to ensure he went to college and become the man he is today.

Anna. Dead.

What is this life?

“Tea or coffee sir…?” Munachi – the air hostess –asked, snapping him out of his reverie. He dried his eyes and gestured towards coffee. He nodded his thanks as she gave it to him and went about her business.

He took a sip of the scalding hot beverage and didn’t even flinch. All he could think of was Anna and how he wept over her cold dead body. He had flown to Monrovia immediately he was told that she was seriously ill. The doctors had initially refused to allow him see her, saying it was unsafe, but one look at them and they obliged. Patrick was a big man. In Liberia and other African countries, big men always had their way.

That all seemed like years ago though. He had given her a quick burial and was now on his way back to Nigeria. He took another sip of the coffee and this time he felt as it burned his tongue. He let out a tiny whelp and dropped the mug. It shattered, spilling its content everywhere. He quickly made to pick up the shards, but cut his forefinger in the process. He put the finger in his mouth and sucked the blood as Munachi came to his aid.

“So sorry sir,” she apologized. “Are you alright?” she gestured towards his forefinger. He nodded, stood up, and went to the restroom.

The cut wasn’t too deep, but he had plenty of blood in him, so the red liquid flowed. He picked up a Kleenex and pressed on it. It became bloodied in seconds. He dropped the tissue in the toilet bowl and collected another. After the third Kleenex, the blood had almost stopped flowing. He pressed the knob and watched as the toilet flushed. He did not notice the tiny drops of blood he left on the knob. He turned on the tap, washed his hand and turned it off. He did not notice the blood he left on the tap head either. He dried his hand and left the toilet. Munachi had cleaned up when he got back to his seat. She offered another cup of coffee but he declined and, suddenly cold, he asked for a blanket instead. She obliged him – some of the perks of not flying economy class.

***

Bishop Samuel Ndah of Royal Diadem Ministries had gone to Monrovia to minister at the Liberian branch of his church. It was a power packed 3 day crusade that ended with miracles, signs, wonders, and some extra dollars in his off-shore bank account. He was going to Australia in two weeks to set up another branch there.

The ministry was seriously moving. The Lord is good.

He used the toilet a few minutes after Patrick did. Of cause he washed his hand thoroughly. One of his favorite quotes was ‘Cleanliness is next to Godliness’, and as a Bishop of Christ, he always practiced what he preached. When he turned the tap head to close it though, he did not notice the drops of blood his fingers collected. He ate Chicken and Chips a few minutes later; chicken so good he licked his fingers afterwards, and washed it down with a bottle of the cold orange juice Munachi served him.

Two other business-class passengers used the toilet during the 165minutes flight.

***

Patrick was sweating when the plane landed at the Murtala Muhammed International Airport. He was sweating and shivering slightly. Munachi wanted to call the airport paramedics but he refused. He explained that he’d just buried his only sister and the past week had been hectic. It was probably fever with a shot of jet-lag. She obliged, called Aisha, her colleague, and they helped him disembark. He almost fell when they made to leave him on the tarmac. He steadied himself and told them he was fine. They left him and went back into the plane. He sort of staggered to the customs area and gave the immigration officer his passport.

The officer scrutinized Patrick’s travel papers and returned them to him. The Liberian was walking into the arrival lounge when he collapsed in a heap. It was like a joke. For a few seconds nobody reacted. Then somebody yelled and all hell broke loose.

“What happened to him? Who is he? How did it happen?” Everybody seemed to be asking at the same time as a small crowd gathered around Patrick. Jemila, an Airport security woman pushed her way through and asked everyone to back off. She checked his pulse and proceeded to give him CPR. She was doing the mouth to mouth resuscitation thing when paramedics arrived and put him on their stretcher. They took him straight to the Airport clinic, while somebody checked Patrick’s wallet for his ID. They found he was a Liberian and worked in the Liberian Embassy. They called the consulate and informed them that their countryman had collapsed in the Airport. The Liberian high commissioner immediately had him transferred to First Consultant Clinics, a private hospital at Obalende.

***

21-07-14

Dr Abdullah Isah, the Chief Medical Officer of First Consultants Hospital had just begun a complex 7 hours marathon surgery on a 13 year old boy’s lungs when Patrick was wheeled in. After the successful operation, he had taken a 6 hour break. When he came back, he started his usual ward rounds with Dr Abiye – the doctor on duty. They got to the Liberian’s ward and Dr Abiye gave his boss the man’s case file. A quick glance at it and he had an idea what was ailing the man. He pulled Dr Abiye to one side and told him in confidence what he suspected was the cause of Patrick’s ailment.

Ebola Virus.

Dr Abiye’s jaw dropped. “Jesus,” he exclaimed. “Jesus!” He had been at the waiting room when Patrick was wheeled in. He had checked his vitals and placed him on drips and stabilizers pending when a proper diagnosis was carried out. He had been in close contact with a probable carrier of the deadliest disease on earth at the moment. “Jesus!”

Dr Abdullah immediately had Patrick quarantined in a private ward. He also had every member of his staff who had been in close contact with the Liberian quarantined in another ward. He didn’t want to start a panic so he didn’t say why he was taking those measures. He just instructed the other staff not to go into those two wards without face masks, surgical gloves and disposable gowns. He called the Ministry of Health and informed the receiver he might have a case of the Ebola Virus in his hospital. He was transferred to the commissioner of health himself who asked what had been done so far. He brought the big man up to speed and was told to maintain the status quo while the minister of health himself was informed.

Unfortunately Dr Abdullah was working with smart people. Someone put two and two together and the word ‘Ebola’ was mentioned. Less than twenty minutes later, the normally full waiting room was almost empty. Family and friends of patients who heard the rumors came and retrieved their wards. Non-Medical staff who didn’t want to risk being around a virus that dangerous suddenly became ill and asked for permission to go home. They had no plan to return until it was safe to do so.

The three nurses and two porters who were on duty when Patrick was wheeled in had gone home to their families before Dr Abdullah made his analysis. In the midst of the chaos, nobody remembered them.

@Deborah_Patta tweeted about the incidence, someone else retweeted it, and in minutes, the news went viral.

Ebola Virus was in Nigeria.

22-07-2-14

Munachi woke up with a nagging headache; very unusual because she almost never fell sick. She glanced at the clock, 7:19am. How did she wake up this late? She was supposed to be on the 11am Kenyan flight, and by traffic standards, she was late.

She jumped out of the bed, then fell right back in. Her head felt like someone was pounding yam in it. She waited a few minutes, then stood up again, slowly. She went through her morning routines at that pace and was ready to leave by 8:30. Nduka, her cabman had been waiting for her since 8am, the time she’d asked him to come.

“how are you? He greeted. when he noticed how much pain she seemed to be in.

“am fine,” she replied and forced a smile, as he collected her bag and helped her into the car.

They were halfway to the Airport when she knew for certain she would be unable to fly. She called her supervisor and told him her condition. He almost yelled at her bad timing. Aisha had called in sick earlier and he had only just gotten her replacement. But remembering how hardworking Munachi usually was, he told her to go to a clinic and treat herself.

Munachi asked Nduka to take her to any good pharmacy around so she could get drugs. He found one soon enough, drove in, parked, and helped her get into the building. His phone rang and he went outside to answer it. He was negotiating fares for a trip with another customer when people inside the Pharmacy started screaming. He craned his neck to see what was happening and saw Munachi sprawled on the floor. He ended the call and rushed in.

“What is happening…?” he yelled to no one in particular. “Aunty Muna, What happened…?” he cradled her in his arms. “Aunty Muna….” he shook her. No response. “What happened’?” he looked up and asked again. Before he could get any response, the owner of the Pharmacy came out of a side room and asked him to bring her in. He lifted her up and took her in, leaving a trail of blood in his wake. He laid her on the bed and left the medics in the room with her. “What happened?” he asked the nurse at the counter.

“She just fell down,” the visibly shaken woman replied. “She was telling me she had headache when she suddenly fell down. Is she your wi…” she looked him up and down “…is she your madam?” she asked, immediately concluding he couldn’t be such a beautiful lady’s spouse.

He followed the direction of her eyes and noticed the blood stains on his shirt. “Blood…” he muttered. “Where this blood come from?” The nurse pointed at the spot Munachi had lain a few moments ago. There was almost a pool where her head had been. Nduka started sobbing. A few minutes later, an ambulance arrived.

Munachi died on the way to the hospital. The official cause of death was ‘Intracranial Hemorrhage secondary to head trauma from a fall with associated skull fracture and scalp bleeding’. Nobody asked why she fell in the first place. Doctors were on strike. The few who were available had too much work on their hands.

Nduka, the pharmacist, the cleaner at the pharmacy, the paramedics and the mortuary attendants – about 8 persons – were in direct contact with Munachi’s body fluids.

***

23-07-2-14

Jemila was breastfeeding her five month old son when she felt like going to the toilet again – for the 4 time that morning. She passed the baby to her mother-in-law and went to relieve herself. When she came out she complained to mama who said she’d concoct some herbs for her before she returned from work at the Airport. Mama and her bitter tasting herbs she thought. She made a mental note to buy Flagyl en-route.

She never made it to the Airport.

She was collecting the purge-stopping drug from her local chemist when her eye caught the TV news headline, ‘Liberian man in Lagos being tested for Ebola’.

“Please turn the volume up”, she told the Chemist. He did. The clip went on to chronologize the Liberian’s arrival at the Lagos Airport, his collapse and subsequent transfer to a hospital at Ikoyi area. It added that from all the symptoms, he was infected with the deadly virus, and they were only waiting for official confirmation from the lab that it was indeed Ebola. Even before Patrick Sawyer’s picture was displayed on the screen, she knew it was him. She didn’t hear the chemist shouting “Iya Jumoke, your change, your change…” when she rushed out of the drug store. She whipped out her phone and dialed her husband.

“Hello … daddy, there is a problem…” she started when he answered at the 3 ring.

In the 11 years they’d been married, Mr Paul Shaibu, a professional caterer and cook at Federal Palace Hotel, Victoria Island, had never heard those words from his wife. “what's wrong…?” he asked, walking out of the kitchen.

“Remember that incidence at the Airport I told you about? The Liberian I gave first aid?”

He did. “Yes. What’s wrong?”

“I made a mistake. It happened so fast I didn’t have time to look for a medical kit and collect a protective barrier before I gave him mouth to mouth resuscitation. It is recommended that we do that to prevent cross infection, but he had a pulse, yet he was barely breathing. If I had delayed he might have died, and…”

“Mummy, calm down.… are you okay…?” he cut her short.

“I just saw the man on TV. They said he has Ebola virus.” Silence at the other end. “Hello, daddy…”

“I’ll go and pick Jummie and David from school,” he began, in the calmest possible voice. “Just go to Ebony and wait. I’ll tell Dr Ugonna we’re coming. I’ll be there in 30mins.”

Paul was a numb robot when he took off his apron and walked out of the Hotel. He now understood why Jemila had been purging earlier that morning. … Diarrhea …one of the symptoms of the Ebola virus. If she had it, then he had it. They’d made love the previous night. And the night before that. If they had it, then, unless a miracle happened, their 3 children, including five month old Paul Jr had it too. And his mother who had been with them for the past two months…

Paul did not hear the people yelling at him to get off the road. He did not see the Cement Truck nor hear the blaring horns either. He did not feel the impact. He died before he hit the ground. Later, when his body was deposited at the mortuary, the morgue attendant noticed some strange rashes around what was left of Paul’s lower back. He ignored it.

After 40 minutes at Ebony Hospital, Jemila tried Paul’s number. It didn’t connect. She called mama to know if he had come home. She said he hadn’t. She called the school, they confirmed he hadn’t come to pick the kids yet. Something had happened. She felt it. She was standing up to leave when her phone rang. The caller identified himself as a Policeman and asked her to come to the Island Mortuary to identify the body of one Mr Paul Shaibu.

Her screams were heard from miles away …

***

24-07-2014

One of Bishop Samuel Ndah’s most notable attribute was his strong baritone voice. On Thursday, when he woke up, he could barely speak. He had only experienced sore-throat once in his life and it surely didn’t hurt this bad. Nor did it come with weakness of the muscle and troubled breathing. He asked his wife to call his pastors. The devil was at work. That evil being didn’t want him to minister at tonight’s special service. But he was going to, whether Satan liked it or not.

The pastors came, held his hands and prayed. His condition deteriorated.

He was taken to a private hospital some hours later. The doctors are yet to realize he might have the Ebola virus. They’re still giving him treatment for Influenza.

25-07-2014

Patrick Sawyer died and it was later confirmed by the Nigerian Government and WHO that he was indeed carrying the Ebola Virus. 30 people may have been in contact with Patrick Sawyer from the Airplane to the Hospital in Obalende. It could have been more, it could have been less. The government is still trying to track them down.

Huh

Munachi infected Nduka and a host of others. Nduka mourned for a while, but man must wack. He still drives his cab around; he has a wife and baby back home and a girlfriend to take care of. He doesn’t understand why his joints and muscles have been aching him since…

Aisha, Munachi’s colleague, thinks she’s constantly weak because she is pregnant. She also thinks the rashes on her body are because she changed cosmetics. She and her banker husband have no idea…

Jemila’s children were infected. The older ones shared meals, toys and other facilities with their friends in school…the friends have friends, who have families ….

Bishop Samuel Ndah is un-quarantined and has been receiving hundreds of visitors daily; faithful members of his church who greet him with a kiss on his Episcopal ring…

The end

AUTHOR’S NOTE

This story is fiction. Patrick Sawyer is indeed the first known victim of the Ebola virus, but other characters exist only in my imagination. Real locations have been used to make the story as realistic as possible.

One nagging question remains though: are these scenarios not possible?

Could you know someone who knows someone who currently has the virus?

I’d have abandoned my awesome new job and carried my polythene bag back home, but if it is here, is it not only a matter of time before it gets to other parts of Africa?

This is not meant to start a panic though. It is to create awareness that this virus is real and amongst us.

As I write this, there are no equipments to diagnose the virus. There are no centers to quarantine and care for victims. There are no specialists to supervise the control of a possible epidemic. And striking doctors’ demands have still not been met.

I appeal to the African Medical Association to call off their strike. Two wrongs have never made a right. And right now, if an epidemic breaks out, you’re the only hope we have. Please put your heads together, and agree on something positive for the good of your brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers and children that make up this entity called Africa. Once Ebola is taken care of, I’m sure the whole Africa would gladly go to strike with you guys.

To everyone reading this, Ebola is real. The symptoms are Fever, sore throat, headache, weakness, joint and muscle pain, chest pain, Diarrhea, rashes, troubled breathing and bleeding from the skin. There is no known cure yet. To reduce risk of infection, wash your hands as often as possible with sanitizer or soap. Always wash your fruits and vegetables before cooking. And finally, avoid contact with people with suspicious signs or those from places where there has been an outbreak.

Cheers,