A trip to the hospital

I take my friend to the National Hospital. I drop him off at the entrance and go to park the car. His girlfriend holds his hand and leads him in; he cannot open his eyes, he shuffles his feet like an old man. There were two armed robbers in the front and one with him in the back, the car driving at extreme speed away from the city towards Kaduna. The guy in the back first broke my friend's glasses, then proceeded to pistol whip him constantly, punching him repeatedly in the eyes.

I parked the car. I saw a group of men in silhouette by the entrance. I thought I heard hilarity and assumed a joke had been told. Then I saw one of the men bent double and the others reaching down to hold him, and realised his laughter was in fact the almost supernatural sound of hysterical grief. I neared the group and then saw that someone was solemnly carrying a roll of blankets covering what must be a young body.

In the emergency room, a member of staff wheeled out an empty gurney, covered in blood and bloody cloth. Inside, a man on a drip was in a neck brace, while blood dripped slowly to the floor. We were told to go back to the waiting room. The Minister of Aviation was on NTA in his trademark sunglasses - Abacha-lite. He was leaning back on an armchair. He congratulated the emergency services on their good job saving lives. Then the Minister of Information appeared, at the very place where I stood, in front of the cameras hours before. He assured the gathered journalists that everything was being done to ensure the well-being of the survivors, and that everything was being done to improve aviation in Nigeria. The programme then shifted to interviewing religious leaders, many of whom called the crash an Act of God. Various people were interviewed. Almost everyone mentioned God - the Muslims talked about submitting to God's will, the Christians talked about being prayerful. A Catholic minister was the only person who was mildly critical and didn't revert to theology. The programme then switched to Lagos, and the airline's (ADC) head-quarters. A black book of condolences had been set up.

Eventually, after x-rays were taken and pills were bought, we could leave. There, where the young body had been just hours before, was empty space. The retinue of the politician who lost his children were waiting in cars nearby. I drove home alone at speed with my lights on full beam, ready to flatten anyone that tried to stop me. Luckily, the way was clear.