Monday, November 09, 2015


Late Dr Thomas
Morte d’ Hestia.

My mind was racing. Muddled. Exams were just two months away and I only a few days earlier realised I had been accepted to study Medicine and Surgery through the third batch. My only hope now? Find someone or persons who could ‘carry’ me...

. . . and she did! I was twice or more her size (was pretty skinny myself) but she did carry me.
Hestia did! It was a discussion group on the topmost floor of ‘titanic’. She sat at the head of the stairs and she held me spellbound. Her eyes! Her lovely frontal diastema! Then her cerebral prowess! Then her fast paced speech! Ah! Enthralling. There were a lot of ‘gorgeouses’ around eh (she wasn’t really, . . . well . . . you know . . . all that . . .) but SHE, froze me.

That’s how our friendship started; Lady H, smallilie palm tree. Martial arts, marathon running, chess playing girl. Along with her cousin, she was the first friend I made and with the help of their discussion group, I passed. I did not need to prove anything. I was just accepted straight up. Her vivacity, cheerful spirit, studious and hard working nature simply endeared her to me.

Her name intrigued me and as her name, so she was; full of life, warm (literally). She was spritely. Walked like Achebe’s Okonkwo, her heels off the ground like a cat but appparently not with nine lives. For Hestia is dead!

13th October 2015. Tuesday last. Brought into the hospital where she now worked as a consultant, with a fractured skull, bruised brain, broken bones, battered body, torn arteries. Hestia was dying. I hear she put up a fight that night. She tried to breathe, gasping. Her soul fought, as usual, but her temple had been destroyed. The vase was broken. Her essence leaked out with every agonizing breath. My friend died gruesomely.


I hardly ever cry but that day, I wept hot tears. I wept when I was told how viciously she had died.

What killed Hestia? Who killed Hestia?

Hestia and I became friends that day we met 18 years ago. We became doctors on the same day. Groomed in the same room. Proven in the same oven. We learnt the same language, learnt to make the same moves. I know Hestia. In all those toiling years, I saw no signs. You can’t be so good as to hide such a thing from all of us! Besides if she was ever ‘pissed’, she’d tell you and she didn’t stay ‘pissed’ for long. That’s one reason she was so loved. From primary school to secondary to med school to house job till demise, we do not recall any episode of depression or any other mental illness. I kept in touch with her. Hugged her when she passed her fellowship exams.

Hestia was brought to the hospital from her house at night. Did a gorilla attack her in her house or did a lorry ram into her at home?

What killed Hestia? Who killed Hestia?

Jumped from the second floor? (according to a report).  We should bury her but we shouldn’t bury this. I want to know. We want to know. We, who are over a hundred strong ask:

"Who killed Hestia? What killed Hestia??"

~ By Dr Igetei, for class '03.


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