SOCIETY FOR THE LIVING

(AGBENUNYALE)

EWLU SUI HADZA(not his real name)

Ewlu Sui Hadza became very sick a few months after his wife's funeral. That funeral had a toll on him and the whole village expected him to die. Sui's children, scattered all over the globe were not even notified of their father's illness. When he survived past a certain threshold, a well wisher smmuggled him to the hospital in the capital city, and he was admitted.

Surgery preparations were being made after a quick diagnosis. A few days after, the village sent a delegation to find out about his health. They were informed that he needed immediate surgery that would cost five hundred thousand cedis (¢500.000) or the equivalent of $200- The equivalent of six months gross pay for the average villager.

 The delegation notified the hospital they could not afford the hospital fee and left him to his fate. The Doctors had a curious academic interest in his illness and performed the surgery, nonetheless. It was very successful and he was expected to live. He was faced with a staggering Hospital bill he knew he could not afford. His village had already given him up for dead.

Sui devised a simple plan. The Hospital was to inform his village that he was dead and that ¢1,000,000 (twice the amount), had to be paid before the body could be released for burial, other wise, it would be buried in a paupers grave. Unless a body was in view the funeral would not be patronised and contributions required from the villagers would be very little. Meanwhile he was recovering very well, and was transferred to a recovery unit under an assumed name.

When the message got to the village everybody was sorrow stricken. Immediately, preparations were made for the funeral and the burial. As was the custom the villagers were expected to contribute towards the funeral. This started in earnest. His children far afield as JAPAN, INDIA, JORDAN, and GERMANY, USA AND CANADA were all notified. They all arrived within a week. As agreed, half the amount was to be paid to enable the hospital preserve the body for the funeral and burial. This amount was promptly paid, and the balance to be paid on the day the body was delivered.

On the day set for the release of the body a large contigent, arrived from the village still sobbing as if the death just occurred. A professional CRYING CHOIR was hired for the occasion. Their role was to cry and set a sombre tone for the occassion. As professionals, their wages were near Hollywood's, by comparison.

The hospital representative invited them to the mortuary. Half way to the mortuary he took them to a conference room for a discussion.When they were seated and expectant, Ewlu Sui Hadza was brought completely recovered from his illness. The reaction of the villagers vacillated between disbelief, confusion, anger and mirth. They had been outwitted.

NII BOYE(not his real name)

When I met him He stood out from the crowd at the lobby of the Y. He was tall and very handsome at one point in his life. Presently the deep furrows on his face remind you of his troubled past. Each had its own story to tell. The depth and length would appear as the measure of the pain that caused them.

He sauntered around the room with this distant and long look in his face and appeared not to know where to go. I approached him and asked of his name. His name was Nii Boye, and he was there for AA meting. Something around him aroused my compassion. I was on my way to visit my wife, who was in Hospital with our fourth child. I asked him to come along and he obliged.

It was an hour's journey and even though he sat by my side I had his attention for about twenty minutes. His mind was fixated on something deep in his mind - a deep ocean abyss from which he had to sort out something

I learnt from him that he was a Pharmacist. H e arrived in Canada as a stowaway. He was lucky he was not fed to the sharks as some of his fellow stowaways. He knew nobody. He landed in Montreal and made his way into Hamilton. There he finished grade school and proceeded to university. At university he met the apple of his eye and they got married. She was from Australia. She was a visa student and marrying her gave her permanent Canadian residency. They had four wonderful children who were doing very well. Two of them were Rhodes scholars and were in the UK

After all his struggles he thought he had reached the pinnacle of his success, and was beginning to rest on his oars when he was dealt a bad hand by fate. For no apparent reason he lost his job, and as his savings dwindled he came home one afternoon and after dinner it was made known to him in an EXTREMELY POLITE WAY THAT he was no longer needed in the house and that his possessions were already parked in the trunk of the car awaiting his choice of abode. She would drive. In the course of seeking explanation two policemen arrived and confirmed the decision to him in a more authoritarian way.

As if in a bad dream he ended up on the street. His friends deserted him and it was difficult to make new ones from the curbside. His welfare cheque could barely provide food, hence a home or jobs were out of the question. Employers were not seeking to hire Pharmacists from the street. His only option was to survive to sustain his life.

After five years he had  reconciled himself to his conditions on the street, and hoped for the best. His greatest hurt was his children. He provided them a new bike and a new pair of skates each summer and winter, respectively, not to mention the $200 Nike shoes. He was unfortunate to run into them one cold winter evening by chance. He called out to them but they did not heed him. When they reached a secluded alley, they accosted him and warned him never to regard himself as their father. The black eye took some time to heal. His sister was a famished lass on the streets of Accra when he brought her here at considerable expense. She still drove the car he had purchased for her. She never bothered to contact him. His many friends vanished.

At this point I was heart broken by his story but felt helpless about what to do. I asked if he needed anything. "Money for coffee" he said with the shyness of a four-year-old. I obliged and asked how I could be of help to him. He said he did not know.

After this encounter I met him several times at street corners pan-handling, and I was a generous patron. When I moved from Hamilton I never saw him nor heard from him again. The last time I heard about him,  he was asking for money so he could return to his native Ghana. Nobody heeded him.

The following spring his body was found in a farmer's field. He was found in a coital position fully clothed and clutching a bible. He knew his hour of death had come and chose his final resting-place with care. His body was well preserved by the elements and even wildlife did no harm. His creator kept watch over him.

Pandemonium broke when the news of his death hit the community. His sympathizers were in the thousand. Various community groups were touched by his death and vowed to do everything to give him a fitting burial. His wife and children rallied around to pay him their last respect. His children(remember them? were so sorrow stricken, and thought loudly how society could ignore their father till he died. They vowed to become advocates for the homeless. His sister shaved her head bald. Her red swolemn eyes told the story about the magnitide of her grief. She lost her voice so could not say much, but she rolled on the ground and did all kinds of acrobatics to express her grief. 

There was intense bickering about where he was to be burried. Many wanted him to be buried in Ghana and some wanted him buried here. A huge fund-raising drive was initiated by the local Member of Parliament. So much money was raised and this confused issues further. There was talk about a statute in his honour and to the honour of all homeless people. In the end Nii was burried in a pauper's grave after the furor. No group remembered what they had raised the money for.

The two stories depict the human response to death. Death fascinates and intrigues us. We celebrate it for want of anything better to do. You may not heed the call of your friend or family member for help because of financial and time constraints. The moment death occurs money and time are no longer considerations. We will dip into that sacred saving, and take time off work or play to give the so-called last respect to the departed.

The true stories about  Ewlu and Nii depict typical human reactions to death. Our reverence for death is legendary and defies explanation. Death happens once and is a time we pay our last respect. But should we not rather celebrate and value life? Should we not do whatever it takes to prolong life? Should we not be attaching value to life than to death? Should we not treat one another as if that would be their last minute of this life? Should we not accord them their last respect in this life each time we deal with them?

The SOCIETY FOR THE LIVING was founded on that PHILOSOPHY.  Everything possible should be done to help the needy to preserve and value life till death becomes ,naturally, unavoidable. No life should be lost because of neglect.

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Last updated July 2004