By Emmanuel Fashakin
Mid-Summer 2018, in my Brooklyn office, I met three teenage brothers, aged 15, 17, and 18. After growing up at Idumota, on the shores of the Lagos Lagoon at Ebute-Ero, often having to hold my ground in fisticuffs against much older and bigger boys, I don’t get scared easily. But these guys scared the daylights out of me. Especially the youngest, 15-year-old, Malik. Malik does not make eye contact with you, with good reason. When Malik looks at you, his piercing eyes cut right through you, his demeanor cold as ice. His stare could peel paints off a wall. As he looked up from his cell phone and stared at me, a shudder went through me and the thought came to me that I may be looking at a future mass murderer.
Malik, 15, was ushered to my examination room at exactly 9.30 a.m. He did not say a word but kept playing on his cell phone. ‘Hi, what am I doing for you today, sir?” I asked cheerfully. Barely looking up, Malik murmured: “You ask the woman who brought us here.” It happened that the woman who brought them here is their foster parent, and she was seeking to adopt them. I have no idea what happened to their natural parents. I didn’t ask.
Malik was reeking of a combination of cigarettes and marijuana, so I knew that the Social History taken by my Triage Medical Assistant, stating that Malik is a “non-smoker” is definitely incorrect.
It was either the MA, taken by Malik’s tender age, never asked, and couldn’t smell, or Malik lied. So putting on my lawyer’s cap, I engaged in direct questioning: “You smoke, don’t you?”. “Yes,” he said defiantly. I changed his profile on the computer to “Smoker”, and in the place where it asked how soon after waking up does he first smoke, I checked “31-60 minutes.”
I had no idea that Malik was watching me because he kept playing with his phone, but he snapped “Hey, you never asked me that question!” I told Malik, “It’s only 9.30 a.m, and you have cigarettes and smoke on your breath already, you traveled from your house and you have been here for more than 30 minutes already.” With that, Malik fell quiet. The rest of the morning continued the same way; Malik’s hostility was palpable. I could barely give him his intradermal PPD test for tuberculosis. I was relieved he didn’t sock me on the jaw, and I quickly despatched him to the procedure room for his blood test.
Mercifully, Malik’s brothers were less menacing. One of them was actually quite adorable, but he is making very bad choices. He was the only one of the brothers who registered with us two months prior, and his medical examination at that time showed that he had chlamydia, a sexually transmitted disease. At 16. He was treated with antibiotics.
This time we obtained samples from him again as part of the medical examination for his adoption, and now he tested positive for gonorrhea. Two days later, he was back in my office for ceftriaxone injection. As I looked at him, I felt really sorry for him and I just started talking to him. “I want you to make better choices. Right now people are housing you, feeding you, and paying your bills. That is not going to continue forever. Soon you will have to fend for yourself. This is the time to make something of your life.” Something better than having sex with multiple girls and catching different types of sexually transmitted diseases — at the tender age of 16 years.
I told the boy my personal story: “You may be living in a tough neighborhood”, I continued, “I can relate to that.” “Growing up, of all the kids on my street, only three of us made it past elementary school, and I was the only one who made it past two years after Primary School. Virtually everyone smoked; many smoked pot. I told my dad, get me out of here. I cannot read in this environment. When I entered Secondary School, straight from 5th Grade, I was 4th out of 72 students in the first exam, then 9th, 24th, then 48th in subsequent terms.”
“My dad said I want you to improve on the grades from home, then I will consider sending you to the Boarding house. I knew it was a significant sacrifice for him because Boarding School at St. Gregory’s was costly. But it took 2 hours bus ride to get home after school. And you are so exhausted after getting home that you just played cards with friends and go to bed. After discussion with my dad, after school, eating only half a loaf of bread and peanuts for lunch, I started walking to my cousin’s job at Ikoyi to read, and we came home together when the traffic became better. I went from 48th to 23rd, and dad made good on his promise, and sent me to the Boarding house”.
I continued: “At the Boarding house, I went from 23rd to 4th, then 2nd, and then to first, as the best student in School Certificate Exams. You have to do what you have to do to succeed in life. You can do better than this. I want you to turn your life around.”
“You should register to be a Motivational Speaker!”, their foster mom exclaimed. “You inspire even me.” “Thank you, I replied, “I like to talk to the young people. I have succeeded in getting many of them off the streets; many are now working. We all have it in all of us to succeed.” By now I was on cloud 9. I knew that I had gotten across to the lad; I pray that he turns his life around.
Unfortunately, Malik was the next patient. His PPD test was negative but his blood test results were not ready, therefore, I could not complete his assessment. “Do I need to bring him back to complete his forms? The foster mom asked. “Nah, I quickly replied. I don’t think Malik likes seeing my face.” “Don’t worry about it doc, Malik doesn’t like seeing anybody’s face”, she calmly replied. Malik! He is only 15 but that guy scares the daylights out of me!
Emmanuel O. Fashakin, M.D., FMCS(Nig), FWACS, FRCS(Ed), FAAFP, Esq.
Attorney at Law & Medical Director,
Abbydek Family Medical Practice, P.C.Web address: http://www.abbydek.com
Cell phone: +1-347-217-6175
“Primum non nocere”
