Email from Sandra: Needed: A Simon of Cyrene
I could feel Enyonam’s dense aggravation. Her every word displayed her longing for a pecuniary breakthrough.
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As she threw up her hands in despair, she heaved a heavy sigh and handed over to me, the bill in her hand
Enyonam’s younger brother had just brought to her, a medical bill in favour of their mother; a bill that needed immediate attention.
Apparently, a laboratory technician at the clinic where their mother had been detained for four days had in his mercy conducted all the necessary tests against the clinic’s pay-before-testing policy. The lab results were ready.
The doctor needed to see the lab’s outcome to enable her prescribe the right medications for the 53 year-old woman who had suffered a stroke in November last year.
With her brother still waiting in her office to watch her cough out GHC234.50 on a warm Monday afternoon, Enyo had come to my office to let off some of the vapour steaming out her head.
“Ablah, these people will not allow me to marry ooo. Anytime a man comes into my life, my family issues scare him away. They either take away from me the money I have set aside for my marriage ceremony, or they cause me to ask the prospective groom for financial aid. Who wants to enter courtship with a woman who already is tied up with such family issues. Eh?”
“Calm down, calm down Enyo, the Lord will never give you more than you can bear. If He knew you wouldn’t be able to rise to the financial occasions in your family, He wouldn’t have made you the star of your relations”, I encouraged her thus.
“But this cross is too heavy for me. How I wish I had a Joseph of Arimathea to bail me out!” She said. “Joseph of Arimathea?” I asked. “Enyo, why? What do you need a free tomb for? Do you want to kill your mother before her death?” I probed further.
“God forbid! How can I kill my mother before her time? I said I need someone like Joseph to help me carry this cross of mine. Was it not Joseph of Arimathea who carried Jesus’ cross?” She asked with a creased forehead. The expression on my face alone was enough to make her confirm the Joseph bit.
“Enyonam, now I know you didn’t attend Sunday School as a child. This Joseph you are talking about was a rich honourable counselor, a member of the Jewish Sanhedrin, who donated his own tomb for the burial of Jesus after His crucifixion.
In fact, according to John 19:38, upon hearing of Jesus’ death, Joseph went in boldly to Pilate to ask for Jesus’ body for burial”.
“Hmm, see how confused I am, Ablah ... I am suffering oooo … I was referring to Simon of Cyrene, not Joseph of Arimathea”, she said. “Now you are talking”, I said with a bit of hesitation. And I say “hesitation” because truth of the matter was, her reference to Simon of cyrene implied no other helper but me.
There’s an adage in our language which says, if you want to talk to God, talk to the wind. Enyonam was passing an indirect request across, but did I have that fiscal strength to aid her at that material moment? No! I began to think of the appropriate excuses with which to make my case against any such assistance plausible.
“Ablah, as I stand here I don’t even have GHC20. If I could get anyone to loan me at least GHC 300 ... I am so tight right now”. I just knew where her statements were heading towards.
As I still schemed for the right answer to give to my desperate colleague, she said, “life is so unfair! Whilst the likes of me are struggling to make ends meet, others like Faith and Bona have all they need and so much more”, she said.
“And who are Faith and Bona?” I asked. “The daughters of the Nigerian President and the Zimbabwean President respectively”.
That was when I noticed that surely, my colleague had gone berserk. What had the payment of a laboratory bill got to do with these two ladies who I know she had never seen or had any relations at all with?
“Enyonam, your brother is sitting in your office waiting for you to raise over two hundred and something Ghana cedis, and here you are, talking about daughters of Presidents”.
Swirling round in the swivel chair in which she sat, she shook her head and said spitefully, “Ablah, just last weekend, Faith had a deluxe wedding where her father gave out customized gold-plated iPhones, among other expensive stuff as presents to their guests.
And would you believe it if I told you that according to media reports, the bride and her groom received about 80 cars as wedding gifts, among other things?” “Whaaat?” I yelled in awe. “Hei, I need the couple’s phone number”, I said. “Yes, Ablah, 80 cars!”
My curiosity heightened at the information. And what about the other lady? What’s her name again?” I asked. “Bona”, Enyo quickly mentioned the name again as though she knew her in real terms. “Bona … Bona. I hear her father catered for about 4,000 wedding guests. In all, about a total of about six million dollars ($6,000,000) was what President Mugabe spent on her wedding”.
“Six what?” I screamed. “Enyonam are you sure?” I asked. “Agh, how can I lie to you. Some reports say he spent three million dollars, others say six. But whether Jonah swallowed the whale or the whale swallowed Jonah, Ablah, there was a swallow!”
Enyonam’s information saddened my heart. Oh, that some of us would have access to just one percent of such kindness from a wealthy source! “Hmm, Enyo, so how do you intend to raise the cash for your brother?”
Bertrand, the colleague with whom I share an office walked in just when I was expecting a response from my upset pal. “Bertrand, I dreadfully need a loan. Payable after Easter”, Enyo said to him.
“What do you need a loan for? Why? What did you do with your salary?” Bertrand sounded quite annoying. I wasn’t surprised when Enyo asked him to stop questioning her and rather let her know whether he would help her or not.
After complaining much, he reluctantly gave her a cash cheque of GHC290. We eventually had found the Simon of Cyrene.
