My Crazy Diary

I grew up to believe that there was nothing more important than achieving a good education. That was all I ever dreamed about. My dream was based on becoming one of the greatest Professors that ever lived. I was very adventurous as well. I loved trying new things, especially in my country. Life was pretty interesting with all the adventures that I was undertaking. This desire and addiction I had for adventures helped me expand my academic knowledge, which was my sole desire. In the midst of one of my most distinguished field works, working on my PhD (Doctor of Philosophy) thesis as a geologist, I found myself in a land of strange people with the strangest way of doing things. However, being there was necessary for my studies. Everything about them was based on their ancestral beliefs and traditional affiliations. The wild and annoying mosquito bites in the region could not be over emphasized. My first day in this village, Furawa, changed the strong desire I had inside me for my academic pursuits. I was now interested in letting go of my PhD thesis and giving a helping hand to a vulnerable people. On one fateful day, an innocent old lady is put to death due to false accusations from the so-called leaders. Life was pretty complicated here. My desperate desire to help these people led me to the Ayah family. The Ayah family was negatively affected by the present predicaments of life in this village. They were a kind and friendly family that had so much to mourn about. Their only son and daughter were taken away by the cruel hand of death. Mrs Ayah’s mother was killed unjustly. Manyi, the only child and the most cherished child of the Ayah’s was the only child left alive. She successfully studied English language and became my translator. My trip to Furawa was intended to last just one week but lasted two tedious and trying years. I fell terribly ill while working in this village. I was transported on locally made stretchers to the boarder of the village where I managed to board a canoe, and then a vehicle to my home after two years away. I was admitted into the hospital after my arrival home and was diagnosed with malaria. My diagnosis was what gave me a clue to the high death rates in the village in which I fell ill. Unfortunately, it took a while to get others to accept my views. With the help of my friend Dr Michael, we were able to get some government assistance. The government supplied the village with drugs and other necessities. My efforts in this village led to the opening of a new school and a health unit. Meeting and getting married to my wife Manyi, was the best thing that ever happened to me. I later on completed my PhD thesis. I was awarded a medal for sacrifice and nation building. With or without the medal given to me, there was something I knew and that is: there is nothing as pleasing as helping the less fortunate in life.