Tuesday, September 22, 2009


I can't stop smiling every time I remember the first time, I meant to write , the first time I flew and then I remembered the first time I crossed the boarders of my birth country, oh! my first rotation on the hospital ward, the day I first arrived in the US, the list goes on and on.
The advantage of having a bad memory like mine, is that you enjoy the same things as if they were first time, so I wouldn't bet all these events were first time, hmm, I think they were.
I would love to tell of the wondrous story of each of them but I'll spare you the pain of reading a soap opera, I myself would rather watch it than read it.
This was in the early 2000's, I was in nursing school, a member of the choir at the cathedral, I was on the Red Cross youth committee and a volunteer with Right To Play, a children non-profit Organisation and I was running for the deputy Guild speaker on the student leadership, busy body. I loved every single bit of what I was doing and I couldn't imagine giving up one for the other until I was asked to travel to Northern part of Uganda( war-torn zone), in the displaced camps to train coaches in first aid. I would never have risked my precious life to the danger zone but this opportunity was a little less than touching the hem of Jesus' garment, I was going to fly to the training, Flying for the first time. I literally couldn't sleep, not anxiety, not insomnia but the excitement was too much to contain. I abandoned everything else that I was involved in and packed for the trip as if I was leaving for a vacation to the Bahamas for months. I was sure to include my passport because I kind of linked the airport with a passport, of coarse I didn't need one, I was not crossing any boarders. I told all those who cared to listen of my "morning flight", oh dear. You could see the envy in their eyes. I couldn't imagine being anyone else but me, because I envied me too.I arrived at the airport with another volunteer and it was a thrill just checking in the departure, though nothing as dramatic as I imagined . We got onto the ten seat plane, I made a point to call my uncle just for him to hear the noise of the plane as it took off, to be sure I was flying. You think this is funny but boy, this experience can be overwhelmingly exciting. Actually overwhelming. A few minutes in the air, I wished I had never got onto that thing called the plane. I felt intense pressure in my cranial, almost bursting through my ears, I felt like there was no content in my abdomen, I simply felt bad but still maintaining my demeanor, I leaned over the chair in front of me, fastened my neck scarf around my tummy and that kind of eased the discomfort. My poor fellow volunteer turned and convincingly told me how he was catching malaria, not to mention everyone else on the plane rushing through the door when we finally made the first stop. They were sick as a dog. You would think that they were used to flying to get sick since they must have travelled so far, telling from the colour of their skin. I later on found out that small planes are not the best for first time feel good flight. My next flight was with Boeing and believe me, I wish to have a bad memory with my first flying experience but it just won't happen. I almost forgot to say that we took the bus back home.

Saturday, September 5, 2009

My very good friend, Nicole, once said that I'm a piece of work, definitely not something I paid attention to. I took some time today to reflect on the things I dreamt of doing and the list was endless. Entangled in my youthful ambitions, exploring opportunities and putting my abilities to test,not a piece of cake. Like my friend Gerald, I still do not know what I want to be when I grow up. I don't mean to wash my dirty linen in public but it's part of not being grown up yet. Well, I don't remember anyone asking me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I can barely remember what I had for lunch, so maybe someone did ask.
I always loved music dance and drama, not the exceptional kid on the block, but was damn good in those folk songs and dances. At about 14-15 years, I thought I had it all figured out. I thought I would make a good doctor, I'm a nurturer, I love to care for those in need, I am kind and all the goody "doctor" qualities but i sucked at biology. It was just around this time that I had become a christian even with a church minister for a father, it took me that long to take a grip. Well, my "inwit" was, that whatever I believed , I would get ,do or conquer. (I'm miss that baby faith).
I was offered a combination of history, economics, divinity and Music (This is in the part of the world where someone decides what you should study), And I still hoped to go to medical school with that combination of classes, you can't beat that "daftness" but faith I call it. Long story short, I finished high school, got a government sponsorship for a bachelor of arts in music, I tried to change to drama, in vain. My ardor for medical school was so intense that I couldn't tell the difference of a simple key G from key F# in the music aural class. I woke up one morning and shamelessly, went to the nearest nursing school as a point of entry in the field and literally begged for admission. The registrar ordered me out of her office and holding back the tears, chocking with passion and desparacy, I reassured her that I would be the best nurse there would ever be and I wasn't going to leave her office without an admission letter. She ignored me for a moment, started rearranging papers on her desk and then she pulled out a couple of papers from the pile and handed them to me, to fill out.The rest is history, I graduated as a registered nurse 3 years later. Not the zenith of my career, but fairly accomplished.
Thus far my guts got me, still hoping to be a Ben Carson of my generation, I decided to do something more fun in the summer to distract my obsession and alas I remembered the the option of drama that I was denied , so I decided to spend a few bucks for acting classes. The same Christine with enthusiasm and devotion to be the best at whatever I do, I prepared a 3minutes monologue for homework , practiced all night like my life depended on it. For a second, I thought I could be an actress when I finally grow up, Maybe not, because I forgot half of the words on the d-day. So pissed at myself, I showed up at work this morning with a long face and a lamp of disappointment in my throat and thank heavens for doctors, my boss offered to look in my throat and examine me , just in case I'm coming down with an illness. Poor him, his nurse is a piece of work. I agree with Nicole.