Good friends, good books, and a sleepy conscience, is this the ideal life?
My conscience is clear. I start to forget all the books that I have read over the years, I have become more realistic than ever. But one thing that bothers me and it haunts me down in a quiet evening when I close my eyes or when I listen to that particular song, it echoes in my heart and flowing with the melody is many days of pain.
Memory of an old friend lost, I never had the courage to talk about it and I wish that I could bury it under my heart. But no matter how much suffering I went through, I could never let go of this one. Memories should warm you up from inside out, shouldn’t they? But why do they try to tear you apart sometimes?
On the 6th of August, more than ten International Assistance Mission workers were shot down by Taliban in Afghanistan. This devastating and disturbing news was delivered to me by my old comrade Michell, who is now working in Dubai as a security manager. He called me at 8:15 am NZT from London, told me a group of medical team were murdered while providing medical aid to local people in the most remote areas of Afghanistan. One of them was a dear friend of mine, Dr. Karen. Karen was a true hero who not only helped those local people in need, she also trained Afghans medical professionals at the same time. She had always been my mentor and dear friend when I was posted to Afghanistan for the first time.
I remember when I arrived in Kabul to a big sand storm, wind whipping up a desert frenzy and the sky seemed to be so heavy with what I initially thought was fog, but it was actually fine sand particles flowing in the air. We were then shifted to different barracks, and our unit was lucky to have toilet stalls. The showers were in bays of four, with the kind of brick and tiles that are never going to look clean again no matter how much you bleach or scrub them. I did not take a shower for a week, except for occasional visits to medical and dentist barracks which had heaps more facilities and “civilised” human beings. That’s where I met Karen, she seemed to know what I was looking for when she spotted me wandering down the barrack corridor. After introducing myself and a short conversation, she guided me to a much cleaner shower facility only for dentists and doctors. During my two months tour in Afghanistan we had become very good friends.
My father always wanted me to become a doctor as he saw the benefits of being a doctor when he graduated from osteopathic medical school years ago. I have been working for the government for six years now. I have found my comfort zone, and stepping out of this behavioural state is going to be hard for me. But I have made my decision to study health and science next year at University of Auckland, to achieve my father’s wish. I have made too many mistakes and I do not want to be looked at as being a disappointment to my family. I also have a responsibility to accomplish someone’s dream.
Please rest in peace Karen. I will carry on, to complete what you did not finish.
