CPR

It was 2007 in Nigeria; I was in J.S.S. 3 (equivalent to grade 9), possibly the 1st or 2nd term. There was a man who had fallen, face-up, just at the inner outskirts of my School. At lunch, in the cold and damp atmosphere, my friend and I went out of the school for lunch, and we saw the man lying on the floor. He seemed incredibly tall, but unconscious or dead. The story around was that he had an epilepsy episode and had fallen inside our school area.

The man was still there on our way back, and I was inclined to help, perhaps report to the principal, who would direct some of the teachers and older students. My friend had pulled me closer to leave, heading back to class to discuss with our classmates. Some had also seen him, and others went to have a look; it was from them that we learned he might have actually had an epilepsy episode; someone claimed to have known him. Anyway, the class turned silent and rowdy simultaneously as some engaged in chats, others reading, eating, and some disturbing the peace of the class as always. Soon after, the bell rang, and every student returned to their various classes. 

The direction of my class is so situated and open that even in the classroom, while the teacher teaches, I could still perceive and feel the man's aura on the ground. Now, the day had turned bright, possibly around 1 pm; the aura of the man around increased. I didn't think our teacher knew of this incident, or he might have checked the scene out and helped somehow, and weirdly, no one also brought this up in class as he finished and left. I peeked through my class's open door; the man was in plain sight. I thought he most definitely was dead by then. My friend called my attention again, "What are you looking at?"  

   There is a superstition that epileptic people, and when they have their episodes, the saliva or liquid from their mouths can cause one to have epilepsy too. For example, if you touch the saliva or step on or over it. Also, the common knowledge is that the illness is incurable. 

This further made everyone stay away from the body, and I guess the man eventually died, for he was there on the ground for a significant amount of time. Even the next day, some of my classmates said that he was still there. Eventually, I believe, someone or some people took him away, possibly to a mortuary close by. 

It was sad, and this experience is among my highlights as a Nigerian. I always remember staring out of the class, wondering what happened; the glaring sun; was he alive? Did he feel us around? Was he truly epileptic, or did students just see him drooling- saliva on his mouth- and conclude that he had epilepsy? I didn't doubt that he didn't, as I had peeked when walking with my friend from the lunch area. I couldn’t be sure that it was saliva around his mouth, but there was something. It was appalling thinking about the situation, wondering what we students and the entire school could have done if we had proper education on CPR, or in any emergency, even if we aren’t to do any compression and the likes.

I remember my first time back in Nigeria in 2014, the same incident, though this time, I was in the car with my sister and father. A body lay dead beside the road, and it seemed the body had been dead for days, as our driver pointed out. 

I knew a little about first aid in Nigeria during my primary school era. My headmaster back then would have a little white box with a red cross mark during inter-house sports. I knew about taking baths to relieve headaches, bandages, injections, chloroquine, paracetamol, and piriton. I think the medications mentioned are what I might have considered for CPR, at least for coughs, pain, headaches, mosquito bites, and other minor sicknesses. I never knew, nor was I ever educated, that drowning, choking, and other sudden adverse health events might require quick inspections for pulses, quick judgments, back slaps, chest thrusts, 2 breaths, and 30 chest compressions to save a life.

Back to my story at my secondary school, although we couldn't do anything, and though the hospital is about an 8 to 10 minutes walk from my school - I'm sure the story about the incident spread, and I later heard that the principal never knew. What the 11-year-old me didn’t know was that there was a chance that our ignoramus selves could have protected the dignity of the dead body- which I hoped someone did- never minding the ridiculous superstitions that chased us away. There is always some pang of guilt that comes every time I remember this incident. There was no one to carry him away or help somehow, no emergency number to call- absolutely nothing! What am I even implying? I am sure that less than 0.005% of the school has a phone, excluding the teachers, principal, and other staff.

Later in the year, another incident like this happened, and this time with one of my classmates, who was sick with a fever and vomiting.

We were in our main hall writing our West African government exam, similar to entrance exams for grade 9 students in North America. My classmate, a boy and one of the brightest in the class, rushed out of the hall. The story was that he had squatted outside the hall, a few feet from where the supposedly epileptic man had lain - and directly in the proctor's view. This time, my assigned seat was far from the window and the door, so I couldn't see what exactly happened, but many noticed that he was vomiting.

Upon finishing the exam, our proctor was very disappointed with us, as well as the teachers who were present in the hall.

Previously, with our first few exams, the proctor was very strict and disciplined us for the lack of decorum in the exam hall. And this is not to mention some students who were late, and his scrutiny in upholding the integrity of exams. Some students had tried cheating and were duly reprimanded. Anyway, apart from this, and the fact that he had gotten the pronunciation of one of my friends' names wrong - which all the students laughed at - the proctor wasn't likable. However, his final conversation with us hit us all. He said he was disappointed that amongst us, a fellow student was sick, vomiting outside, and none of us, as well as the teachers, seemed concerned until he had to order a teacher to attend to the sick lad. The proctor gave the sick classmate the option to go home, go to the hospital, and defer the exam; I believe he had stayed and completed the exam.

The proctor was right. And again, I found myself with another obligation to my exam, expecting that someone else would show up and help. Though there was nothing I could have done from my seat, and I had expected the teachers to be solely responsible, at least during the exam, and not the proctor- but perhaps they are waiting for the proctor to permit them. I know it is ridiculous to be expecting permission, especially when a life is at stake. But it is Nigeria, a place where anything is possible, and being a good Samaritan can bring heartaches. There were times when proctors are heard to have jeopardized students' exams, and no one is particularly keen to repeat JSS3. There were also many reasons why the teachers hadn't attended to the sick lad. One reason was the hierarchy of power between government proctors and teachers. Think about it: why must the government send proctors to schools? Teachers are known to help their students cheat, and many earned bad reputations and lost their jobs as a result. So no one exits to re-enter the exam hall for a sick lad, because suspicion would rise regardless of the intent. But another reason was that the teachers weren't aware that he was sick since they are also far from the view of the sick lad.

I remember the proctor talking to us as we wrote our last exam, and we reconciled our differences as he wished us well, and many students consent that he was strict but ultimately nice. I believe this is among the times I noticed that I was growing, and that society expects, or I owe it to the society I live in, to be responsible and uphold human decency. 

So many things could have gone wrong in the scenarios narrated, and to this day, I always remember my inactivity. I do wonder how many Nigerians have experienced the same thing, and perhaps have better stories, and not as daunting as mine. I wonder how many know about CPR and if they are willing to discard all doubts and superstitions to help, to save a life. Now that I live in Canada, CPR- or emergency-educated, I can only wonder about many situations that I have watched and heard and people simply do not know what to do. Now that I am better informed to act or call for help at times as described, I know education in CPR or crisis intervention could have helped a great deal when I was that 11-year-old adolescent.

 

NOTE

It was about 3-4 months ago that I did my 7th or 9th CPR education, and I wanted to write a narrative experience in an emergency situation, but I always put it off. I believe the death of Ifeanyi prompted me to sit and compose this while on my way to work, and then I wondered: how many Nigerians are educated in CPR and can confidently perform it and save a life? My write-up isn’t to attack, but I couldn’t help but wonder.

And in all this, and with the recent drowning situation of the 3-year-old Chioma and David’s child, I do wonder how many Nigerians can give CPR; what is our natural response during a crisis? Crying, wailing, calling the ambulance, dragging the sick or victim? What is the emergency number? Are we ready to be educated and abandon the various taboos and superstitions about various ailments? And what a better exit would it have been, instead of changing the physical appearance of the Naira Notes, isn’t CPR education a more credible and better way to make your exit? 

But what would I know?!

Also, I recently watched Dr. Bello, and honestly, I could say it was the first Nigerian movie I watched where a car-accident victim was given CPR.