Hairdresser's story is a shame for Kenya
She was found by the roadside in Umoja naked, presumably a victim of rape, with blood oozing from a wound on her head - a blow from a blunt object inflicted by a hairy cretin.
Early morning and there she lay — nameless, unconscious and near death. A Good Samaritan called a taxi but a hospital wouldn’t touch her until a CAT scan of her head was done.
So back into the taxi and on to an even bigger hospital where she was wheeled into the emergency room. The all-important scan was performed at 3pm and the patient prepared for an eight-hour surgery. But she died — still nameless.
The next morning, the Good Samaritan returned to be met by the sad news. So she had the hospital fingerprint their late patient. She took these fingerprints to the Registrar of Persons.
Two weeks later, they released her name, not to the police but to the Good Samaritan. The helpless Good Samaritan posted the deceased’s name on her Facebook page and in no time, she was identified and her remains claimed by her distraught family.
Several things are wrong with this story. First, and ideally, the victim’s rescuer should have called the emergency services. But you and I know they don’t exist. She probably could have called the cops but you and I know they would have arrived four hours later — in a Land Rover.
So she took it upon her self — and at her own expense — to take the victim to hospital in a taxi which isn’t the best mode of transport for someone whose head had been bashed in by a blunt object. But what was the desperate soul to do?
Now listen to what she was told at the first hospital: “Sorry, we can’t treat your patient unless she has a CAT scan.”
This hospital, a place of mercy, couldn’t wheel the victim into an ambulance to wherever this CAT scan thing is done?
At the major hospital, it took three hours for the scan to be taken and much longer before she was wheeled into surgery. When she died, it’s the Good Samaritan, not police, who took it upon herself to identify the victim and seek ways of finding her next of kin.
Barring that, she would have lain in a mortuary for months and her unidentified remains buried in unmarked grave.
That’s Kenya for you. Should you, God forbid, encounter a medical emergency, say from an accident, a mugging or illness far away from home, the reality is that you
Here, treat yourself to some nonsenseThere is this song, I wanna be a billionaire, that has been playing over and over in my mind as I try to think of something sensible, for the first time, to file for this column. Trust me, this is not going to be easy and apologies are already in order.
When Njonjo almost resigned over coffee smugglersKnown as the era of black gold, it began in 1976 when Ugandan farmers decided to sell their coffee in the private market.
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