Did I act improperly that day 20 years ago?

It is always my tradition to share certain past stories in my life during landmark birthdays. The stories come from my stocktaking about my experiences over the years, and the journey that has taken me to my present station.

As my 60th birthday approached today, I had been wondering whether I acted properly on an occasion that happened shortly after my 40th birthday. That was in 2006. The recent call-to-bar ceremonies for new lawyers in Abuja earlier this month also made the 20-year-old incident ceaselessly tug at my conscience.

It happened in August 2006 at the Nigerian Law School campus on Victoria Island, Lagos, the place where some old lawyers call ‘the original Law School’. This is because it is the oldest of the law school campuses. I was one of the about three or four thousand Bar aspirants writing that year’s examinations. I remember vividly that it was the night before we were to write the Civil Law Procedure paper. Those familiar with the Law School syllabus will agree with me that the most extensive of the courses then was the Civil Law Procedure.

It was already close to midnight, and I was inside one of the reading rooms on the campus, ensconced in my books and notes, struggling to cover as much as possible before returning to my hotel room in Victoria Island. I did not get accommodation on campus. So, I lodged in a hotel opposite Bar Beach. My friend and brother, Senator Tokunbo Afikuyomi, arranged the accommodation for me as his contribution to my success in the examinations. May Almighty Allah (SWT) bless him.

So, I was struggling with memorising the different rules and orders provided for every legal issue by the procedural laws of Lagos, Kano, and Abuja when this young man suddenly appeared beside me and greeted me. The gentle intruder asked politely if I was the owner and driver of the Hyundai Sonata vehicle parked outside the gate. After I answered in the affirmative, he said: “Sir, one of our mates is in labour, and we need you to help us get her to the hospital.” I stared emptily at him. It was the only reaction I could give as I was just confused about what his demand was. It was when he added that it was an emergency that I got jolted out of my reverie. I quietly packed my books and papers and asked where the lady was.

He told me to go and get the car ready while they brought the lady. As if I was hypnotised, I got behind the wheel and waited for the expectant mother and her handlers. They got in, and I started driving before asking which hospital was our destination. They said we should go to the Military Hospital at the beginning of Awolowo Road in Ikoyi. It was as if I was under a spell. I asked no further questions. I just drove on. It was already past midnight.

I did not even look at who my passengers were. Up till today, I have no name or face recognition of the lady who was in labour or who her colleagues were. On our way, I remembered that around the Falomo Flyover area, there was a suggestion to put a phone call through to the mother of the lady, and the question of who had enough call credit on the phone came up. Again, as if on cue like a robot, I volunteered my phone. They put a call through to the mother, who said she was far away in Ikorodu. The older woman informed them that it was too late for her to make any move and that in the morning, she would come over to where the expectant mother was.

We drove to the hospital, and my other passengers managed to get the pregnant lady in labour out of the car and through the stairs to the first floor where the nurses’ station was. I took time to park the vehicle in a way that would make our movement out of the car park easier for me.

When I joined the party upstairs, I was surprised by what I heard. As a father of three kids myself, I had some understanding of ante-natal preparations by an expectant mother. I had seen lists of prenatal items that the mother-to-be should get ready before the delivery date. I also knew about the weekly ante-natal clinic appointments and checks that must be adhered to before the delivery date. I had not only paid for those items in my own case but also indirectly participated in the ante-natal clinic sessions as a consort. So, I knew that during labour, the pregnant mother would be taken to the hospital where she had been undergoing ante-natal clinic sessions. This is because only that clinic would have her up-to-date medical record as a reference for consultation on the delivery date. She is also expected to report to the hospital with the items listed for use on her delivery date.

As I joined our colleagues who had taken the expectant mother to the first floor, I started hearing disturbing stories. The hospital staff, I was told, refused to attend to her. Why? She did not previously register for ante-natal care in that hospital. Also, she did not bring the items needed for her delivery. The lady probably miscalculated the delivery date and did not think it could meet her while she was still in school. So, what do we do?

The students started pleading that the medical team should disregard all protocol and place emphasis on the urgency of the situation. I obviously did not know how to intervene in this matter. I only managed to also add my voice that the hospital should just do whatever could best be done in the present circumstances.

After both sides remained unyielding and the medical staff started talking about the need for the lady to be removed from the premises by those who brought her, one of my passengers drew close to me. In very well-delivered whispers, she said the medical staff were insisting on not attending to the pregnant lady in labour because they could see that we, her colleagues, were also around to soak in the pressure. I asked them what their solution was.

They replied that we should all gradually and without being noticed withdraw from the hospital premises. By their reasoning, if we all left without being noticed, the hospital would have no option but to attend to the lady in labour. In other words, if we ‘abandoned her at the hospital’, the medical staff would be compelled to attend to her. And diligently too.

This time again, I had no viewpoint. I simply bought into the plan. This could be because I was eager to get back to my study or because the entire scenario was becoming more confusing to me. By the details of the exit plan, I would be the first to leave the reception area and go downstairs to get the car ready for quick movement. I did, and as I waited behind the wheels, the other people came into the car. On instruction, I zoomed off. We had technically abandoned the lady. However, I convinced myself that she was not abandoned to her fate. She was left in good hands.