Last week, as usual I spent 2 days with my brother at his place. Visitors came in droves that sometimes I felt that we could do without some. I know they meant well. My brother has many friends, many of whom are people he had helped and it is heartening to note that these people had not forgotten him. They came and recited the Yassin. Some came with traditional medicines and some with 'Air Yassin'.
My brother was just lying there, with tears trickling down his cheeks as each visitor approached him with words of encouragement. He couldn't speak. Each time he tried, he was inaudible. He could not even lift his hands. He was lying down watching. Every few minutes or so he would slip into a slumber. He had not eaten for many days. We had to spoon feed him water and juice.
On Sunday evening a relative came. I could see that he was visibly shocked by the sight of my brother lying down listless. I left them to go out for a smoke. The relative came to me and I was shocked to see him crying like a baby. He said that he couldn't bear to see my brother and that he would try his best to do something. This relative of mine is known to claim that he is a part-time bomoh. He practices what is called 'Metaphysical Healing'. I am known in the family to be the one who do not believe in bomohs.
He offered to help and I saw no reason to stop him since the doctors had given up all hopes. After some of the visitors had left, he started. He chanted verses of the quran and was very animated with his hands, catching invisible objects, crushing them in his fist and pressing them down to the tiled floor. He went about it for about an hour. Then he took an egg, wrote some something on the egg and started rolling it all over my brothers body. In the end he wrapped the egg in tissue and put it in a plastic bag and asked my nephew to throw it into a river or the sea.
What I admired about him is that, he knows some would laugh at him at his style of healing but he didn't give a damn. When all was over he left. About half an hour after that I left. When I got home I received a phone call from my sis-in law asking for the relative's phone number. I asked why and she said that my brother drank his first half glass of water. He drank and not spoon fed. I passed it off as a mere coincident but gave the number anyway.
Though I do not believe in all these mumbo jumbo, I still called him and thanked him for I could feel that he was sincere in wanting to help his way. Everyday I called my brother's house and was given very encouraging results. My brother is now able to sit on the sofa. Of course he had to be carried to it but all the same he could sit and prop his head against his hand which is strong enough to withstand the weight of his hand. I promised to go over on wednesday night but had to cancell since the bridge was closed and roads leading to it was jammed because of the bomb hoax. So I decided to video call him and was surprised to see him sitting on the sofa and talking to me in quite a clear voice. I was also told by my sis-in-law that he finished a whole fish that day. I couldn't and did not want to hold back the tears.
The next night, last night, after school, I rushed to his place on the mainland and sure enough there he was sitting on the sofa, without the usuall oxygen tube. He smiled when I entered. As I greeted him, tears began to trickle down both our cheeks. I was unashamed to cry for I was very happy with what I saw. We spent quite a nice few hours talking and watching tv.
I still do not have too high a hope because I know what stage 4 cancer could do. This could be the calm that preceeds a violent storm. I am not saying that my relative has nothing to do with this sudden change but neither am I saying that he is responsible for this small miracle but I am grateful. I believe that if God wishes, then it happens. Deep inside, underneath the fear of the impending storm amidst this calmness, I pray that this small miracle would evolve into a big miracle.
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