Living Abroad Is Not Immortality

Make love. Make friends. Refresh your spirit. Laugh. Cry. Move, Run. Look back. Look forward. Reflect. Think. Read. Watch. Live! Find happiness and motivation within and around. Don’t take good health for granted. Exercise your body, mind and soul.

Living Abroad Is Not Immortality

By Adeola Aderounmu

Let me drop these few lines from the perspective of a Yoruba living far away from the land of my ancestors. These few lines will be based on my personal experiences.

I met a guy in Sweden in 2013 or thereabout. Indeed, it is a mystery how I didn’t meet him in Festac Town, Yoruba Country before I came to Sweden at the beginning of 2002.

We shared common childhood friends like the Olisehs and he knew many of the guys I played football together with, like Ubaka, George and several more. At that time of my life, my football skills took me near his own place of residence in Festac town precisely along 711 road/ 24 Road. But we met first in Stockholm at the reunion of Festac people in the Scandinavian, the first edition, which I hosted. In the subsequent edition in Finland hosted by Ebunoluwa, he could not make it.

During my visit to Malmö in 2019, he came to my hotel room and as usual we spent some quality time together.

Onyebuchi had probably arrived from Japan in the early 2000s and he contemplated whether to settle in Sweden or not. A few years later, he sent me a private message thanking me for inspiring him to stay in Sweden especially after we met in 2002. If you asked me what I told him or how I inspired him, I have no idea.

I have listened to people saying I (Adeola) did this and I did that, but often I have no recollection of what they are talking about. I just do the things I do and always stay positive that everything will work together for good. I remembered someone said I gave him the opportunity for his first white collar job in Sweden. How was I supposed to know that? It was a job that we needed someone to do, and I found him suitable. That’s just it.

In 2019 I travelled alone to Malmö in Sweden. In fact, it turned out to be my last major travel before the covid pandemic, and the last time I saw Onyebuchi in person. I drove all the way and stayed at a hotel in the central part. But I was visiting 3 friends, all with Festac connection, and Onyebuchi was one of them. It was 2 or 3 days well spent during the summer holiday. Seeing Adex and senior Tolu will always be a pleasure.

If I knew Onyebuchi had issues or could depart so soon (around Jan 1, 2023), I would have strained myself to make another drive to Malmö. Who knows what would have happened? Together, we may have changed the sequence of history. He may still be with us today. But we are mortals. We will die. That we will exit this planet is the surest thing in life. Nobody will leave planet earth alive no matter how long/short, or how good/bad we live. Death is our common denominator.

It’s just very sad to die far away from home when life has not been fully lived, when that dream of growing old is cut short. I’m happy that Onyebuchi made Malmö his home and that he loved his young son with all his heart. The agony that is felt by the families we left in our home country is the sad aspect. It is therefore imperative that whilst we are alive, that we see ourselves as living things that want to survive, that crave for happiness and fulfilment but in the end, not afraid to die. It will happen anyhow.  

We left motherland to live in faraway places. Mostly it is in search of comfort, the pursuit of happiness and fulfilment. But our accomplishments of these feats do not make us superhumans. Those who left home to faraway places are not superior beings. They are made of flesh, bones and blood. They are humans living with pains, hope, laughter, good times, bad times, thoughtful and thoughtless times. They fall sick, they get depressed, they may be curable or incurable of their illnesses. It’s still all the same about our frailty and mortality no matter where we find ourselves.

The opportunities we have to succeed are also still relative. They depend mostly on our competences and then that element of luck or coincidence that place us at the right places at the right time. A sad outcome of chasing dreams far away from home is ending up worse than what you could have become elsewhere (home or another place).

Personally, I have no idea if being a professor of Parasitology in Yorubaland would have made me happier than my life in Sweden as a special education teacher (of mathematics). Can I still become a professor? Yes. Will I aspire? I do not think so because it seems I have reached a point where I do not want my knowledge about things and my ways of reasoning to be subjected to measurement any longer. I believe with the right tools; every person can see how infinitely the human brain can function. I have been infinitely influenced by a phrase I saw in my cousin’s hose in Ibadan around 1995/96. Bloom where you have been planted. How do you know where you have been planted though?

If you have family members abroad, you need to start seeing them differently. Indeed, there are several millions of Africans scattered around the world today and the reasons are no longer due to direct slavery (even if some circumstances are similar to it). Abroad is anywhere that is not home. So how many people do you have to take into considerations when you think of the people you know abroad or in different geographical regions from where you are?

People abroad are not superhumans. They will develop new ways of thinking and acting after a long spell in places different from home or birthplace. They will make mistakes; they will fall, and they will try to rise again. They may be out of jobs, and let’s hope that is temporary. Young people generally, will lose their minds and stability if they are out of jobs permanently. Some of us will be crossed due to unstable family relationships. Humans are social animals and any attempt to find a way around that socialization is unhealthy.

Whether we are at home or abroad, we should make efforts every now and then to reach out to another (but not in cases when reaching out can cause you trauma or discomfort). Make efforts to build a new bridge if the old ones get burnt. One of the harms you can do to yourself is to be static. Make love. Make friends. Refresh your spirit. Laugh. Cry. Move. Run. Look back. Look forward. Think. Reflect. Find happiness and motivation within and around. Don’t take good health for granted. Exercise your mind and body. Read. Watch. Observe. Live.

If you open your eyes every morning, if you get out of bed every morning, think about what you can do better this day than what you did yesterday. Think about newer opportunities and if there is a little effort you can make to achieve something great. Within the limit of your human capabilities, not doing harm to yourself, see if you can make a positive influence in somebody’s life. If you can do without a payback, ask them to pay forward. If all you can do at a certain time, is for yourself, to be happy, make it clear.

In the end, home or away, we are all mortals with the same basic needs: air, water, food, companionship, and shelter. The major differences in societies, mainly due to types of government and use of common sense, are access to these things and the infrastructure that adds quality to our lives.

Malmö 2019


This essay is for you Onyebuchi Echigeme. May the city of Malmö remember you. May your son grow to be strong and worthy. Farewell my friend.

Rest in power bro!

Rune Westlund (1921 – 2021). I Knew A Good Man.

By Adeola Aderounmu

There are not so many people in the world today or even in old times who would open their doors for others to come in. It is not a matter of whether one is a stranger or not. Opening of doors to others is not even a family matter. People have locked out friends and strangers alike. For various reasons, people close their doors and lives to family members. People are strange. We are strange.

So, when a person willfully opens his/her door to help you accomplished a task or reach your goals, it is not just a matter of flesh and blood, it is the best of humanity. It is a feeling that you cannot describe or quantify. It is something that should boost the quality of your thoughts and move them in a positive direction, permanently.

Rune was a man with a good heart and a clear conscience. He was a symbol of harmony and dedication

Breaking a chain of kindness can bring non-visible pains as well as emotional distress to those who really have flesh, bones and hearts. Breaking the chains of paying (good deeds) forward can bring unhappiness or a feeling of unfulfillment. You break the chain already when you lack appreciation. You break it when you close your door and heart to others even when you could have sustained it or pay it forward. Indeed, humans are plagued with insecurities and broken chains of goodwill. We are!

I am not qualified to write the tributes of a man who lived for almost 100 years. I can only pay my respect. Rune Westlund was a man who opened his doors and life to as many as he could possibly do. He would have been 100 years old today (12 December). Rune was born in Stockholm in 1921. He left us, peacefully, on 26 April 2021 after a brief illness. His burial took place at Kanalkrykan in Sandviken, a place where he spent his working life and nurtured his family. A few people are worth celebrating, even in death. Rune stood out amongst them. I am paying him this respect as a way of celebrating his life and all the indelible marks he left behind.

I knew Rune for about 17 years. His kindness and thoughtfulness ensured that he became one of those who impacted my life. It added to the list of the people who previously influenced my choices in life: my parents, my teachers, and a few good people. Rune was the great-grandfather of my 2 wonderful daughters. He was the same to a handful others. If you are looking for exemplary, selfless life, he lived one. He was an accomplished man who left us a year after Smith & Tell sang that 2020 was the Year Of The Young.  Even 2021 turned out to be another year of the young.

Almost invariably, we always feel sad when our loved ones leave us even if they had grown very old. But sometimes we ought to focus on the quality of their lives too and the impact they made to humanity. In addition, we ought to reflect on the roles we played when they were with us. How much time did we spend with them and how well did we influence the things that were within our capabilities to do? A lot of people would find genuine or residual happiness if they focused on the outstanding quality of lives that their loved ones experienced and the positive values they added to humanity.

Rune was a man with a good heart and a clear conscience. Until his last days, his mind was alert and his memories never depreciated in worth. I will not tell you how, but he was ingenious. Okay, I’ll tell you: he kept the ones he loved close to his heart. Rune was never out of words to describe things and events. There was almost nothing he forgot. Throughout life and in all seasons, he trained his mind to remember the things that matter. He never forgot the birthdays of any member of the family.

He knew the dates when all his grandchildren and great-grand children were born. He read newspapers and followed current affairs. He could discuss politics at top level, and he never shied away from our discussions on sports. The value or worth of our memories can never depreciate if the people we love are always in our hearts and if we apply our heart to good deeds. We often neglect the need to overcome our shortcomings to find fulfilment and happiness. There are, of course, consequences for life’s choices.

Rune was a symbol of harmony and dedication. He was contented and happy. He was always calm and jovial. Faced by the inevitable, the end of all mortals, he never lost it. For a man who lost his wife Anita to cancer in 2008, he carried on gracefully and kept fond memories of her. In their lifetime, Rune and Anita were also parents to some other people they never met in real life. Regularly, they sent monies that ensured that some children in faraway places on earth had food on their tables and got educated. As if that was not sufficient, they opened their doors to receive and welcome immigrants in Gävle/Sandviken area of Sweden. In their home, immigrants learned a new language, they learned to cook and bake. They found a dependable base to seek happiness and hope for the future.

Rune was aptly described by his children as a man with great generosity, empathy, and strong integrity. He had a great sense of humor and presence. When the sun went through the windows and shone on his casket, it was an affirmation that he was a good man who deserved to rest in glory. Rune is survived by children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren.

I knew a good man. His name was Rune Westlund. He’s resting, in peace.

As Foolish/Brainless As Buhari (that spoke on Arise TV)

Do I have to remind this Buhari that his Nigeria is now officially the Fulani-Cow Terrorist Republic of Northern Nigeria?

As Foolish As Buhari

By Adeola Aderounmu

The Tyrant, The Dictator, A brainless man!

I am probably one of those who asked the Buhari in Aso rock to appear on a live interview. I did not see all of the interview on Arise but the 1 – 2 minutes I saw were very revealing and they helped to put some puzzles in place. I have always suspected that whoever that Buhari was (real or fake), it must be someone with very low human mental cognitivity.

Sweden has a population of approximately 10 million people and it is one of the most prosperous countries in the world. Name the field and Sweden will be in high ranking. There are several small nations around the world with low populations and several of these countries are prosperous. They abound in Europé. The Buhari on Arise TV dismissed the emergence of Yoruba Nation, Biafra and other small nations entrapped within Nigeria solely because of population/size. That was a very senseless argument. The moron said that investors prefer to invest with large populations. Really? So with all the investment since 1960, a failed and terrorist country like Nigeria still became the poverty capital of the world.

I praised the calmness of the people in the studio listening quietly to a dumb-ass. The only person I would not really want to see in that interview is the criminal brown-envelope writer Mr. Abati. The man who worked his way to Aso rock and invariably became part of the ruling class that destroyed Nigeria. Still I will use one excerpt I took from twitter where Abati was mentioned.


Excerpt of Interview with Buhari:

Arise TV interview with President Buhari: Reuben Abati: what have you done to tackle the insecurity of Nigeria.

Buhari: We closed the borders with the Niger Republic, we stopped smuggling…but I assure you that those who are responsible will know we don’t tolerate corruption


The Buhari that spoke is a senseless being. He needs to go back to the school he never really attended to learn about what makes great investments and the factors that promote economic growth in a nation. When asked aboiut security, his answers (as usual) showed that he does not connect to the question. His brain is not working!

And if he is also daft he does not know that Yoruba has a population of over 50 million people, then his mental problems are unsolvable. He should retire to a quiet life in Katsina (if that is the real 80 something year old Buhari).

The Buhari that spoke is a senseless being. He needs to go back to the school he never really attended to learn about what makes great investments and the factors that promote economic growth in a nation.

Do I have to repeat the obvious obstacles that the colonial thugs placed in our ways and the multiplication effects brought about by more than 50 years of misrule, looting and useless democratic/military institutions in Nigeria?

The nations entrapped in Nigeria must work and walk their ways to freedom. There are definitely no other ways to prosperity and the pursuits of happiness outside total freedom and absolute liberty.

Do I have to remind this Buhari that his Nigeria is now officially Fulani-Cow Terrorist Republic of Northern Nigeria?

Buhari should count his fingers, that is how many more hours he should get to pack his loads and get the f*** out of my face. In a sane world, he would have been arrested by the police several years ago and tried for corruption and crimes against humanity. In a sane world, since he came back through the backdoor in a shamble election, he would still have been arrested for his association with Boko Haram as the official spokesman and the man who did nothing as his tribesman-the Fulani, cause mayhem, death, genocide and devastation all over the geographical area called Nigeria.

This Buhari must be stopped, enough of this international embarassment.

The nations entrapped in Nigeria must work and walk their ways to freedom. There are definitely no other ways to prosperity and the pursuits of happiness outside total freedom and absolute liberty.

Yoruba Nation on my mind, so my children and children’s chldren can have a peaceful place called home!

Sweden has a population of approximately 10 million people and it is one of the most prosperous countries in the world

Nigeria And The 2018 World Cup


Nigeria And The 2018 World Cup

By Adeola Aderounmu

I have just watched the first match of the 2018 world cup, Russia 2018 with the host country white-washing the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia with 5-0. Some people were already questioning the qualification/eligibility of Saudi Arabia based on their poor performance.

It was a victory that the Russians needed to stamp their authority as the host of the competition. Afterall Korea went all the way to the semifinal when she hosted the competition albeit getting all the help in the world from the FIFA referees along the way.

Anyway l want to spend the little time l have now on the Super Eagles of Nigeria, their NIKE shirt maker and the friendlies they lost.

ONCE again Nigeria is one of the hopes of the continent of Africa.  The good news is that Nigeria lost her 2 friendly matches in a run up to the world cup. A 1-2 lose to England was the first wake up call. It was good news because Nigerians now know that their hopes should not be beyond the abilities or the capabilities of the boys representing them at Russia 2018. If Nigeria crashes out in the group stages, there will be no serious hypertension.

In fact l wished the health authorities in Nigeria can sound a note of warning about the health implications of getting too emotional about this worldcup. I learnt my lessons far back in USA 1994 during my last year at the University of Lagos.

We were African champions and we were the 4th best team in the world. That team had the potentials to be the world champion. All is history now.

When the Super Eagles match out in this tournament, they will face Croatia, a very technical team, Iceland, a team that sent England home at Euro 2016 and Argentina, a familiar foe.

The Super Eagles are parading the youngest team at the tournament but the players are full of experience. Mikel Obi and Victor Moses will team up with Onazi and Iwobi to lead the team to glory (if they choose glory).

The boys should not be carried away by the colours or admiration of their jerseys. NIKE is smiling to the bank despite doing a very useless job on the provision of the national wears. NIKE is asking me for a feedback on the way my questions have been answered concerning the messy work they did with the national team jersey and its availability globally. This will be my feedback, a blog entry.

If you go to leading football stores/ websites around the world, you can buy the national team jerseys of the world best teams and national teams. But you cannot buy the original of that of Nigeria at the retail price before and after June 1 2018. In my opinion, this is a very useless development. If the world loves the super eagles jersey, it was the responsibility of NIKE to see to it that the world gets it.

But no, they can produce any amount they like and they can decide not to produce more when the stock that was released on June 1 ran out globally after 20 minutes.

What does NIKE care about the feelings of Nigeria? Absolutely nothing!

NIKE has no respect for Nigerians and the supporters of Nigeria football if that means that whe whole world support Nigeria.

Today l can still buy the national team jerseys of leading football clubs in the world, but not that of Nigeria that just even drop her position in FIFA’s ranking.

I know NIKE tried to explain it but it is not acceptable. The reasons fell flat.

You don’t prepare for rain by waiting for the rain to start. I learnt that before l was 8 years old.

Money they made, yes. They also opened the market for fake products from China to Ibadan. Good for those in that line of business. But the responsibility of making the products available wherever and whenever was damn bad.  I will leave it like that though l have more to say about it.

For the games, Nigeria must watch out for the ICELANDERS. They are formidable and they will punish any team for the slightest mistake. That is their greatest strength. They lay low and allow you to make a mistake and that is it. Their second strength is in set-pieces. They don’t like to waste them.

So Nigeria cannot go to sleep for one minute playing a wise team like Iceland.

For Croatia and Argentina, Nigerians just need to hold up their heads and remember that they play week-in and week-out at the same levels with these players in different leagues in Europé. They are the same people and should not be given the kind of respect that will make the Nigerian team look inferior. Just do it! Isn’t that what NIKE wants whether we the supporters get the jersey or not?

I am going to sit back and watch as many matches as l can. I hope the referees don’t make me switch off my tv with some useless decisions. These happened in many games before and FIFA need to stop influencing results. The corruption in FIFA must not be brought to the field of play or to gambling companies.

Some of us just want to relax and see the beautiful game. A part of us is attached to our country’s team and the other part just want to be part of the greatest sport event on planet earth.



Pojken Med De Gyllene Öronen

Mina barndomsminnen skulle vara ofullständiga utan min mammas vånda när hon satt och såg mitt spädbarnshuvud dekoreras med två ofullständiga öron. När jag ser tillbaka är jag så tacksam för allt bemödande min mamma la ner på att rengöra mina öron.




av Adeola Aderounmu

Året var 1986 då jag fjorton år gammal tog bussen till Lagos Allmänna sjukhus för att genomgå en öronoperation. Det var menat att bli slutet på en rad tidigare besök på sjukhuset. När jag föddes var mina öron inte färdigväxta. Defekterna var uppenbara eftersom mina hörselgångar ofta var fyllda med en gulaktig vätska.

Mina barndomsminnen skulle vara ofullständiga utan min mammas vånda när hon satt och såg mitt spädbarnshuvud dekoreras med två ofullständiga öron.

Jag minns min barndoms dagar i grundskolan. Jag hade alltid en laddning med bomullsvadd hemma som jag ibland tog med till skolan. Jag lärde mig snart att vira bomullsvadden runt ett kvastskaft och stack in vadd i örat till både höger och vänster. Vid flera tillfällen tog bomullsvadden slut, så vad gjorde jag? Jag använde locket på min BIC penna istället. Detta lock blev min närmsta följeslagare i flera år. Hade jag inget annat på mig så hade jag locket till en blå, svart eller röd BIC penna som jag stack in i mina öron och grävde ut tonvis med vätska.

När jag senare i livet hittade bomullstopps använde jag dem istället. De hade de ett värde av guld för mig.

När jag ser tillbaka är jag så tacksam för allt bemödande min mamma la ner på att rengöra mina öron. Jag minns att hon varnade mig för skarpa föremål. Men ibland såg hon bara på mig med medlidande, för i mitt fall var det som att leva tillsammans med någon med ett missbruk. När begäret att stoppa något i mina öron dök upp fanns det inget i hela världen du kunde göra för att hindra mig.

Jag är också tacksam att mitt problem inte klassificerades som ett handikapp, eftersom i det avseendet kunde Nigeria ha förstört mig totalt. Jag hade tur att inte kategoriseras som någon i behov av specialundervisning på grund av mina hörselproblem.

Innan operationsdagen 1986 lärde jag mig att vakna klockan 05.00, ta bussen från vårt hem i Festac Town och resa till Allmänna sjukhuset beläget i Ikeja.  Vi, jag och min mamma, hoppade vanligtvis av Lagos gula buss vid hållplatsen med namn PWD och vandrade sedan utmed en bro hela vägen till sjukhuset.

Det var en obekväm resa. Den var inte heller helt säker eftersom det oftast var få personer på vägen där vi gick vid bron mot sjukhuset. Enligt min bedömning var hela resan ungefär fyra mil lång, kanske till och med fem. Det kunde ta oss en och en halv timme med minst två eller tre byten av olika bussförbindelser.

På operationsdagen lät min mamma mig göra resan på egen hand. Hon skulle anlända lite senare. Jag minns inte anledningen till det beslutet men antar att är du mamma till sex barn lär du dig snabbt att göra dem självständiga vid en lämplig ålder. Jag skulle kunna föreställa mig att jag vann min självständighet när läkarna väl bestämde att korrigera mina öron med en operation. När jag kom fram till sjukhuset mötte jag sjuksköterskorna och gjorde den nödvändiga registreringen. Sedan väntade jag. Och jag väntade, väntade och väntade.

Efter att jag blev tveksam till den ovanligt långa väntetiden frågade jag sköterskorna när det var min tur att bli omhändertagen? Svaret jag fick då kom som en chock jag aldrig kommer glömma. Det här sjukhuset hade jag besökt åtskilliga gånger tillsammans med min mamma, jag var en återkommande patient. Till exempel en gång när ett litet fiskben fastnade i min hals under en utsökt måltid och min mamma tog mig till öron-näs-hals på Allmänna sjukhuset i Ikeja, kände jag redan till den avdelningen lika väl som min egen handflata.

Så därför när sköterskorna, denna ödesdigra dag, svarade mig att de inte kunde hitta min journal med dokumentationen som fastställt min operation trodde jag det var ett enkelt misstag av felplacering. Jag antog att de skulle hitta den och att mina öron sedan skulle opereras.

När min mamma anlände blev hon mycket upprörd. Hon gav mig en tillrättavisande örfil för att uttrycka sin ilska. Jag kan inte minnas någon annan dag, varken innan eller efter denna ödesdigra dag, då min mamma slagit mig. Hon gjorde aldrig det. Därför blev jag nu mycket förvirrad. Det var ju sköterskorna som inte kunde hitta min journal. Vem borde då bli slagen?

När jag tänker tillbaka på hela det scenariot, kan jag bara gissa mig till olika skäl att min journal försvann. Ett är att sköterskorna förmodligen blev chockade att en pojke dök upp själv inför sin operation. Var fanns min mamma som skulle betala dricks så att journalen inte försvann denna viktiga dag? Eller, sett ur ett annat perspektiv, räknade personalen med att min familj skulle ha kontaktat dem i förhand med förskottsbetalning innan operationsdagen? Hur väl förstod mina föräldrar att sådana här möjligheter måste säkerställas genom att hålla koll på sjuksköterskor och doktorer för att undvika besvikelser?

Varför försvann min journal på operationsdagen? Ett tredje skäl kan vara att läkarna inte var kapabla att utföra denna operation och därför drog sig ur?  Det sista påståendet är rätt osannolikt eftersom mina minnen porträtteras en rad kompetenta, professionella läkare och undersökt mina trumhinnor, öroninfektioner och hals med instrument och redskap på öppenvårdsmottagningen.

Så, varför kom inte läkarna ihåg min bokning? En operation borde ju inte vara så lätt att glömma? Varför kom inte läkarna till väntrummet för att leta efter mig? Sa sjuksköterskan att jag inte dykt upp? Vad var det egentligen som gick fel?

Min mamma smällde till mig eftersom att hon fann mig sitta lugn och samlad, trots det troliga scenariot att missa ett tillfälle att korrigera mina defekta öron som man bara får en gång i livet. Hon visste säkert med en gång att chansen inte skulle komma igen. Många saker måste farit genom hennes huvud när hon kom för att höra de dåliga nyheterna gällande mina öron. Den enklaste vägen för att ge utlopp för sin frustration var slaget jag fick. Hon trodde troligen att jag bara kom dit och satte mig ner utan någon ansträngning. Men vad kan en fjortonåring göra när de äldre sköterskorna kastat eller gömt hans medicinska journal?

Jag kan inte minnas att jag någonsin var arg på min mamma. Hon var min gudinna. Hon var kvinnan som lärde mig nästan allt – att läsa, att skriva och sedan att laga mat. Min mamma lärde mig vara ödmjuk och uthållig trots de svårigheter och motgångar man möter i livet.

Så vi åkte hem. Det blev ingen operation år 1986. Jag fortsatte att sticka in allt i mina öron för att få ut vätskor och för att skrapa öronen när de kliade. Vid något tillfälle använde jag pinnar och kvastar för att skrapa ut smuts som fastnat på mina trumhinnor. Jag var expert på mina öron. Som öronläkare skulle jag varit den bästa i hela världen. Jag minns en dag när jag pillade i mitt öra med ett skaft och någon plötsligt sprang in i mig. Det började blöda från mitt öra och jag fick därmed en ny möjlighet att sticka in fler föremål för att få ut blodet. Mitt missbruk var hopplöst.

Jag har levt i Sverige sedan 2002 med ett fortsatt lidande av återkommande öroninfektioner på grund av mina trumhinnors sårbarhet. En dag när jag besökte läkaren rekommenderade han en operation. Mina öron hade testats under en period och resultaten var förkrossande. Jag har fått anstränga mig nästan hela livet för att kunna höra vad människor säger. Resultaten jag såg visade tröskeln för normal hörsel jämfört med min. Jag har varit döv!

Så år 2007, tjugoett år efter att sjuksköterskorna på Allmänna sjukhuset i Ikeja sabbade min då planerade operation, fick jag äntligen min öronoperation i Sverige. I ena örat var hörseln redan borta vid det laget! Efter operationen blev det örat det bättre av de två. Vilket betyder att i det bättre örat innan jag opererades saknades redan hörseln. Öronen var helt enkelt döva till olika grader. Operationen utfördes på Danderyds sjukhus i Sverige.

Till ålderdomens höst, som snabbt närmar sig, kan jag ana vad mina största utmaningar kommer bli. Jag har en dålig höft efter att ha spelat fotboll i tonåren and kommer definitivt inte kunna gå ordentligt. Jag får använda hjälp. Jag kommer också vara nästan döv på bägge öronen. Hörapparater finns att erhålla men om de är lämpliga för just min dövhet blir intressant att upptäcka.

Jag bestämde mig för att skriva detaljerat om min hörselskada eftersom det avslöjar mycket om Nigerias folkhälsoproblem. Jag vet inte hur mitt sjukdomsfall behandlades som litet barn. Kunde jag opererats redan som bebis och därmed botats för resten av livet? Det är troligt. Men med tiden blev jag medveten om, att trots tillgången till ett bra hälso- och sjukvårdssystem i Nigeria fram till 1980-talet, fanns luckor i systemet som gjorde det svårt att korrigera min hörselskada. Den delen var olycklig.

En operation blev bortslarvad. En vän sa till mig att min död på läkarbordet var uppskjuten! Men jag litade på sjukvårdssystemet i Nigeria 1986 även om sjuksköterskorna var illasinnade. Jag skyller den sabbade operationen på dem, jag tycker inte de var genuina och det är ledsamt att minnas nu.

Så hur är det nuvarande läget gällande hälso- och sjukvård i Nigeria? Med ett ord, katastrof! Nigerianska politiker och beslutsfattare måste tänka på medborgarna och arbeta hårt för att säkerställa att sjukvårdssystemet förbättras och anpassas till efterfrågan från den omfattande lant- och tätortsbefolkningen. Den vanliga medborgaren måste ges förmånen att kunna ha råd med ett sjukvårdssystem där livet prioriteras.

Som tonåring riskerade jag mitt liv och reste flera mil. Sedan gick jag längs vägarna till läkarna i Lagos i Nigeria. Jag är mannen med de gyllene öronen.

Om en nigeriansk politiker, vilket inkluderar presidenten, önskar resa utomlands för medicinska skäl bör de hindras från att göra det. I ett land med mer än 170 miljoner människor borde politiker som inte kan leverera avskedas. De förtjänar till och med min mammas tillrättavisande örfil.


From the original text, The Boy With The Golden Ears by Adeola Aderounmu, 2016.

Translated to Swedish language by Louise Holmberg, Stockholm, 2018.