Yes, academically, they were both very differently inclined, and I remember how upset Mini used to be when her teachers would compare the two of them. And rightly so! I used to go and talk to / yell at them, my colleagues, the next day, though Mini never knew that, I think!
But we, her Ba and I never doubted her abilities. We were rather disappointed when she chose Hotel Management out of all those career options at that expo we all went to. (Do you remember it?) But we didn't let on. At least I hope we didn't....
And yes, he was the best big brother anyone could ever have, without exception. He totally, unconditionally, doted on his baby sister, from day one. The number of times he took the rap for her! (Do you remember, Mini?)
Even today, our Dunlop friends remember how he, not seven years old, would carry his school bag, Mini's school bag AND MINI, only a year and a half younger, on his back, coming back from school!
And she adored him right back, despite occasional appearances to the contrary. (What siblings don't have their disagreements?)
I remember the whole Dunlop School being abuzz one day, when I went to collect them! Must have gone to pay the school fees or collect report cards or something, as they usually came home on their own.
Anyway, the school was all abuzz, as I said before. Mrs. Mukherjee, Mini's teacher, and Mrs. D'Souza, Bozo's Class 3 Maths teacher, were supposed to be complaining to me, but they were totally amused and actually sounded approving!! They told me what had happened.
That day, Bozo'd scored 100% in a Maths test (yea, Y, nerdy even at age eight!) and two of his class-mates (one a sardarji, I remember! though that's neither here nor there...) beat him up for it. Mini was in class 2. When she got wind of this, SHE WAS LIVID. She got together a couple of friends, Pum-Pum and ... who else? All girls. Maybe someone remembers who they were! Anyway, she got them together and, armed with foot-rulers and sticks, they went to the Class 3 classroom, closed all the doors so they couldn't escape AND all the windows, presumably so the teachers wouldn't see and interrupt them, and BEAT THOSE BOYS UP.
Bozo never had trouble from them again...
I shot a smile into the air, It came to earth I knew not where. Perhaps on someone else's face, In some forgotten, quiet place. - Michael Leunig
Sunday, 8 July 2007
It's purely academic
Ok so I've been lazy. I find it very easy to be lazy, unfortunately. But here I am, fighting my natural inclination to be a sloth, and writing about my beloved elder brother instead. ooh aren't I the sweetest :-)
Ok so I am not. He was easily the better person and certainly loved me more and showed it better too. Not that he didn't have any flaws, and we definitely had our rough patches, but he was still the best big brother ever. He's only 20 months older than me and we had the best childhood together. There are plenty of incidents from our Dunlop and Rajasthan days that I could write about and I will at some stage, but I will save them for a future post.
This one's about more recent memories... we were always close growing up, but our mid-teens did not go very well at all. We fought a lot; he became a domineering and controlling big brother all of a sudden, a complete change from the mild-mannered boy who had let me boss over him all my life, and I have to say I truly hated him for a while back then.
Thankfully that phase didn't last forever. He finished school and left for BITS (Birla Institute of Technology and Science), Pilani, many miles away, and came back after his first semester a changed guy. He wanted to be friends again, but as my parents (and some of my exes!!) know only too well, I am incredibly stubborn and find it quite easy to be coldly unforgiving. So it took 2 more trips and numerous pleas to be forgiven before I finally "deigned" to do so and we were back to being best of friends just like that. (Although I continued to remind him every now and again about how mean he had been to me, and he would be suitably contrite each time!)
By this time I was nearing the end of Year 12 at school, and Bozo, who was quite happy at BITS, wanted me to join him there, never mind that I was too lazy and/or not smart enough to get in. He would keep looking up courses he thought I might enjoy, but while I did like the idea of studying at the same University as him, I had no illusions about my intelligence/academic commitment, and decided to study Hotel Management instead. While this decision did disappoint him a little, and he continued to try and "sell" BITS to me each time I visited, he quickly progressed to being highly enthusiastic about my hoteliering achievements.
Like the time I happened to come first in my Cookery Finals in my First Year (purely by chance, seriously... my Professor was as surprised as I was). Despite knowing the full story, Dada went and boasted about his "talented" little sister to his friends, which I discovered on a subsequent trip to Pilani around Diwali with my parents, elder Aunt and cousin Manu. During this visit, some friends of his were cooking Tandoori chicken, and Dada told them very confidently that I would be able to tell them exactly what to do, being the culinary expert I was. I vaguely remember a disagreement over how long the chicken should be marinated for, and Dada laughed at them for not listening to me. A few hours later, I was embarrassed when the friends said quite smugly (and justifiably so) that the chicken had turned out just fine, but he insisted it would have been far better if they had followed my instructions.
The best big brother ever, as I said.
Note: I would like to assure everyone (especially my mother!) that I do not suffer from low self-confidence/self-esteem. It's just that there was an undeniably large difference between our levels of intelligence, coupled with the fact that he quite liked studying, whereas I had no interest in it whatsoever until I went for my MBA. So while theoretically I could have gained admission into BITS, it certainly wouldn't have been as effortless as it was for him, and I most definitely did not want to work hard enough for it. And that's ok too.
Ok so I am not. He was easily the better person and certainly loved me more and showed it better too. Not that he didn't have any flaws, and we definitely had our rough patches, but he was still the best big brother ever. He's only 20 months older than me and we had the best childhood together. There are plenty of incidents from our Dunlop and Rajasthan days that I could write about and I will at some stage, but I will save them for a future post.
This one's about more recent memories... we were always close growing up, but our mid-teens did not go very well at all. We fought a lot; he became a domineering and controlling big brother all of a sudden, a complete change from the mild-mannered boy who had let me boss over him all my life, and I have to say I truly hated him for a while back then.
Thankfully that phase didn't last forever. He finished school and left for BITS (Birla Institute of Technology and Science), Pilani, many miles away, and came back after his first semester a changed guy. He wanted to be friends again, but as my parents (and some of my exes!!) know only too well, I am incredibly stubborn and find it quite easy to be coldly unforgiving. So it took 2 more trips and numerous pleas to be forgiven before I finally "deigned" to do so and we were back to being best of friends just like that. (Although I continued to remind him every now and again about how mean he had been to me, and he would be suitably contrite each time!)
By this time I was nearing the end of Year 12 at school, and Bozo, who was quite happy at BITS, wanted me to join him there, never mind that I was too lazy and/or not smart enough to get in. He would keep looking up courses he thought I might enjoy, but while I did like the idea of studying at the same University as him, I had no illusions about my intelligence/academic commitment, and decided to study Hotel Management instead. While this decision did disappoint him a little, and he continued to try and "sell" BITS to me each time I visited, he quickly progressed to being highly enthusiastic about my hoteliering achievements.
Like the time I happened to come first in my Cookery Finals in my First Year (purely by chance, seriously... my Professor was as surprised as I was). Despite knowing the full story, Dada went and boasted about his "talented" little sister to his friends, which I discovered on a subsequent trip to Pilani around Diwali with my parents, elder Aunt and cousin Manu. During this visit, some friends of his were cooking Tandoori chicken, and Dada told them very confidently that I would be able to tell them exactly what to do, being the culinary expert I was. I vaguely remember a disagreement over how long the chicken should be marinated for, and Dada laughed at them for not listening to me. A few hours later, I was embarrassed when the friends said quite smugly (and justifiably so) that the chicken had turned out just fine, but he insisted it would have been far better if they had followed my instructions.
The best big brother ever, as I said.
Note: I would like to assure everyone (especially my mother!) that I do not suffer from low self-confidence/self-esteem. It's just that there was an undeniably large difference between our levels of intelligence, coupled with the fact that he quite liked studying, whereas I had no interest in it whatsoever until I went for my MBA. So while theoretically I could have gained admission into BITS, it certainly wouldn't have been as effortless as it was for him, and I most definitely did not want to work hard enough for it. And that's ok too.
Thursday, 21 June 2007
The Coolest Nerd
This is the Brat here...Ummm...I mean 'Y'.
So, really strange thing, actually.
I was just pottering around Pandara Park with nothing to do, recently, and chanced upon a little red diary - in which I seem to have written all kinds of crap when I was younger.
And the very first entry on the very first page is a poem making fun of the esteemed biggest brother - clearly it was a time when I was particularly jealous of his talents, and during that period, would insist on calling him a 'Nerd'.
Further, I have a feeling that he told me something about how the greatest poems must never rhyme ( now, I remember him saying something here about 'An Ode to a Lump of Cheese', but my memory fades out again...sigh...).
Anyway, my childish handwriting (which hasn't really changed much) in the book says:
''(99% Sweat, .1% Inspiration, .4% Feeling, .2% Boredom, .3% Bozo)
Bozo is Back
Woe, Alas, and That is all,
Because this Poem Mustn't Rhyme,
I sit here feeling sorry
For the nerds of this world
There's no denying, but they keep trying,
They're Nerds...Nerds...Nerds...''
And that's it.
How Irreverent! How Rude! What a Brat I Was!
But what fun we had!
Aditya Deb...Coolest Nerd I've ever known :-)
So, really strange thing, actually.
I was just pottering around Pandara Park with nothing to do, recently, and chanced upon a little red diary - in which I seem to have written all kinds of crap when I was younger.
And the very first entry on the very first page is a poem making fun of the esteemed biggest brother - clearly it was a time when I was particularly jealous of his talents, and during that period, would insist on calling him a 'Nerd'.
Further, I have a feeling that he told me something about how the greatest poems must never rhyme ( now, I remember him saying something here about 'An Ode to a Lump of Cheese', but my memory fades out again...sigh...).
Anyway, my childish handwriting (which hasn't really changed much) in the book says:
''(99% Sweat, .1% Inspiration, .4% Feeling, .2% Boredom, .3% Bozo)
Bozo is Back
Woe, Alas, and That is all,
Because this Poem Mustn't Rhyme,
I sit here feeling sorry
For the nerds of this world
There's no denying, but they keep trying,
They're Nerds...Nerds...Nerds...''
And that's it.
How Irreverent! How Rude! What a Brat I Was!
But what fun we had!
Aditya Deb...Coolest Nerd I've ever known :-)
Tuesday, 19 June 2007
More photoos
Lazy thing that I am... am taking a break from writing stuff... so here are some pics instead...
Aha! More baby pictures with Ma... happy little boy, wasn't he... that one on the bottom left was at his.. well some Bengali ceremony that I can't remember the name of ------>
This was taken in J K Gram, Kankroli in Rajasthan, after some function, probably in 1984/85. Not sure what that look on his face is all about, but I sure look pretty pleased with myself, probably 'cos I was definitely out of "prop" mode by then----->
Many years later, on a beach in Beira, Mozambique. Baba (our father) had been there on his own for 2 years, and this was our first visit, in 1990.
<-------
Aha! More baby pictures with Ma... happy little boy, wasn't he... that one on the bottom left was at his.. well some Bengali ceremony that I can't remember the name of ------>
Tuesday, 12 June 2007
A Brat's Memories
I am posting this on behalf of my cousin Y, who is one of my closest friends, 6 years younger than my brother, less of a brat now (much less!!!) and expecting her first child in July... And here's a picture of Dada and Y... she had just finished tying some ribbons in his hair, hence the dorky look on his face!!!
Now, Mashi, why would you give a name like Bozo to the most un-Bozo-ish person around? But it's a very sweet name, anyway!
I thought I would have lots to write about but I guess I really don't. I have gone through all the posts and comments carefully and can tell that getting it all out is a great thing. But I can write only about the very few things that I remember.
I never got to know Bozo Bhaiyya (yes, he was more 'Bhaiyya' than Dada to me) as well as I should have. He would just sort of turn up once in a while at Pandara Park. I would typically only know he was here, when I saw him shaving at the wash-basin in the morning – but it was always nice to have him around, even though I didn't really quite understand what he was all about – hadn't met anyone like him, you see!
For one, he picked up a guitar that was lying around – I was trying to learn it at the time – and he said he didn't know how to play – and proceeded to play what sounded like a very intricate and beautiful tune, to my young ears. I was amazed that someone who 'couldn't play' could sound like that. I have other faint memories, one of which involves a huge book, with almost all the Beatles songs, lyrics and chords – was it his, which he lent to Abhi, or something? Don't remember and don't know where that book is, either. Was he a big Beatles fan? I think he was but don't remember this clearly.
I do remember one time when I happened to write him a letter with a Rakhi enclosed – he was so touched by it that he sent me a present – a subscription to the magazine 'Connect'. Now, he was clearly intelligent beyond comprehension but I was a fairly stupid kid – and couldn't understand what the magazine was talking about, so made a disparaging remark about it one time. He smiled and casually asked me to go and hang myself and the topic was closed. Even after he passed away, the magazine just kept coming and coming – I don't know how long he had subscribed to it for me. I tried to appreciate the magazine after that but I still couldn't and in fact, every month's arrival filled me with a feeling of guilt for telling him that I was planning to use it for firewood! However, I like to think it didn't bother him at all because he was way too smart to have his feelings hurt by some ten year old smartypants. But then again, he was sensitive enough to be touched by a simple Rakhi in the mail, so am not sure. Anyway.
He had this amazing knack of telling jokes with a completely straight face, of course. I remember one particularly horrifying 'Dead Baby' series – I was so taken with these that I wrote them down in my diary for future reference. It doesn't seem all that funny now, 15 years later, especially to me now that I am expecting – but the point is – he was incredibly funny and I haven't actually seen that kind of sense of humour in anybody else – ever.
My memories are all mixed up and very sparse; I realize that as I try to write this. Maybe it will get clearer over some time – will try again then.
Love you, Mashi and Mini!
Y
Now, Mashi, why would you give a name like Bozo to the most un-Bozo-ish person around? But it's a very sweet name, anyway!I thought I would have lots to write about but I guess I really don't. I have gone through all the posts and comments carefully and can tell that getting it all out is a great thing. But I can write only about the very few things that I remember.
I never got to know Bozo Bhaiyya (yes, he was more 'Bhaiyya' than Dada to me) as well as I should have. He would just sort of turn up once in a while at Pandara Park. I would typically only know he was here, when I saw him shaving at the wash-basin in the morning – but it was always nice to have him around, even though I didn't really quite understand what he was all about – hadn't met anyone like him, you see!
For one, he picked up a guitar that was lying around – I was trying to learn it at the time – and he said he didn't know how to play – and proceeded to play what sounded like a very intricate and beautiful tune, to my young ears. I was amazed that someone who 'couldn't play' could sound like that. I have other faint memories, one of which involves a huge book, with almost all the Beatles songs, lyrics and chords – was it his, which he lent to Abhi, or something? Don't remember and don't know where that book is, either. Was he a big Beatles fan? I think he was but don't remember this clearly.
I do remember one time when I happened to write him a letter with a Rakhi enclosed – he was so touched by it that he sent me a present – a subscription to the magazine 'Connect'. Now, he was clearly intelligent beyond comprehension but I was a fairly stupid kid – and couldn't understand what the magazine was talking about, so made a disparaging remark about it one time. He smiled and casually asked me to go and hang myself and the topic was closed. Even after he passed away, the magazine just kept coming and coming – I don't know how long he had subscribed to it for me. I tried to appreciate the magazine after that but I still couldn't and in fact, every month's arrival filled me with a feeling of guilt for telling him that I was planning to use it for firewood! However, I like to think it didn't bother him at all because he was way too smart to have his feelings hurt by some ten year old smartypants. But then again, he was sensitive enough to be touched by a simple Rakhi in the mail, so am not sure. Anyway.
He had this amazing knack of telling jokes with a completely straight face, of course. I remember one particularly horrifying 'Dead Baby' series – I was so taken with these that I wrote them down in my diary for future reference. It doesn't seem all that funny now, 15 years later, especially to me now that I am expecting – but the point is – he was incredibly funny and I haven't actually seen that kind of sense of humour in anybody else – ever.
My memories are all mixed up and very sparse; I realize that as I try to write this. Maybe it will get clearer over some time – will try again then.
Love you, Mashi and Mini!
Y
Wednesday, 6 June 2007
June 5th
Today it's 5th June...and I very well remember the same day 13 years back.It's strange how our memories are.Sometimes we forget things so easily, but I still remember vividly each incident on the said day and what we went through. Of course, it was a loss of a lifetime. We lost a family member and the world lost a great soul.
Those were the days when Bhaiya (our maternal grand-dad, I dont remember who started calling him that, most probably Bozo Dada) was very sick.Our world revolved around him.Ma, Baba, Bon and I were always petrified what will happen next.Each month there were new complications, new doctors, new nurses.But it was nothing what we expected in our dreams would happen on this particular day.
June 5th was not a day unusual. Bon and I were having our summer holidays. Ma was burdened with grading of heaps of answerscripts. She finished it on this day, after series of sleepless nights and went to submit those to the coordinator.Baba, Bon and I were doing the usuals when we received a call from Darimama.We saw that Baba got excited while talking to him and was crying as he kept down the phone. We couldnt believe our ears when Baba said "Bozo is no more". Three of us broke down but soon gathered ourselves because of Ma. Ma was already under too much stress and we couldn't let her know the moment she comes. So when Ma came back after some time,three of us behaved as if nothing had happened. Till today, I think that was one of the most trying moments of my life. It was so difficult to hide our emotions.
After a while, Ma came to know from PishiDimma( Ma's aunt). As you can imagine, Ma just could not believe it.Who can believe that a bright, young boy would leave us forever before he turned 21?We grew up hearing stories about Bozo Dada and Mini Didi from Ma.It was such an irony that Bozo Dada came to visit Bhaiya, after Bhaiya had his first cerebral attack.Within a few months of his visit,he passed away. Bhaiya,though survived many more attacks for another 2 years, didnt know till his last breath, that his favorite grand-child was no more.Bhaiya had suffered a lot due to his illness, but his illness saved him from knowing this harsh truth.
We had met BozoDada the last time in Feb'93, when he came to visit his ailing Bhaiya. Who would ve known that this was the last time we are seeing him.Now, no matter how we are, where we are, it hasnt been a year that we havent been reminded of this day.
Those were the days when Bhaiya (our maternal grand-dad, I dont remember who started calling him that, most probably Bozo Dada) was very sick.Our world revolved around him.Ma, Baba, Bon and I were always petrified what will happen next.Each month there were new complications, new doctors, new nurses.But it was nothing what we expected in our dreams would happen on this particular day.
June 5th was not a day unusual. Bon and I were having our summer holidays. Ma was burdened with grading of heaps of answerscripts. She finished it on this day, after series of sleepless nights and went to submit those to the coordinator.Baba, Bon and I were doing the usuals when we received a call from Darimama.We saw that Baba got excited while talking to him and was crying as he kept down the phone. We couldnt believe our ears when Baba said "Bozo is no more". Three of us broke down but soon gathered ourselves because of Ma. Ma was already under too much stress and we couldn't let her know the moment she comes. So when Ma came back after some time,three of us behaved as if nothing had happened. Till today, I think that was one of the most trying moments of my life. It was so difficult to hide our emotions.
After a while, Ma came to know from PishiDimma( Ma's aunt). As you can imagine, Ma just could not believe it.Who can believe that a bright, young boy would leave us forever before he turned 21?We grew up hearing stories about Bozo Dada and Mini Didi from Ma.It was such an irony that Bozo Dada came to visit Bhaiya, after Bhaiya had his first cerebral attack.Within a few months of his visit,he passed away. Bhaiya,though survived many more attacks for another 2 years, didnt know till his last breath, that his favorite grand-child was no more.Bhaiya had suffered a lot due to his illness, but his illness saved him from knowing this harsh truth.
We had met BozoDada the last time in Feb'93, when he came to visit his ailing Bhaiya. Who would ve known that this was the last time we are seeing him.Now, no matter how we are, where we are, it hasnt been a year that we havent been reminded of this day.
Tuesday, 5 June 2007
What Happened?
A Letter From Beira (I am posting this on behalf of my mother, Lalita Deb)
Many of you who knew and loved Bozo never knew what actually happened. You just heard out of the blue one day that he had passed away. That must have been so difficult, and more so because we didn’t bring him back home.
Today is the 5th of June. Every year, around this time, I feel like I’m going mad. Try as I might, I just can’t help it. I begin to remember everything, with every detail starting with how I was counting the days to when the four of us would be together for the first time in about four years. Bozo’s hols from BITS started on the 20th of May that year, 1994 and he and Mini flew out here. Arup and I received them in Harare. I remember how THRILLED we were.
Well, since I AM thinking about it, I thought I’d use this blog (thanks yet again, Mini) to think aloud, as it were…
Arup had for the past six months been planning this trip around Zimbabwe. Hotels and fares were all booked, and we looked forward to a brilliant time together, which we did have. We took the overnight ferry on lake Kariba, and spent a few days on one of the islands, with elephants, hippos and crocs for company. Then we drove down to Vic Falls. Spent a few days there, at Hwang-He National Reserve.
Mini, in the meantime, had us truly worried. She’d developed this little lump in one cheek. So we decided to drive back to Harare. Had her checked out.
I can’t believe Bozo shook the doctor’s hand and then waited outside with a magazine. He was already sick, though we didn’t know that then…
We were so relieved Mini was ok, we all went and saw a movie – that’s what this family does when anything untoward or special happens!
That night, Bozo had a fever. Said he’d caught cold and would be ok with a couple of Dispirins.
The next day, Saturday the 28th, we started back for Beira. We stayed the night at Drifter’s in Mutare. When Bozo got high fever again, I was alarmed but he still just insisted on having a couple of Crocins and going to bed. We should have gone back to Harare then. We know that now and Arup and I will forever blame ourselves for not doing it. It's a terrible burden to live with ...
The next day he was fine and we carried on and reached home on Sunday evening. He again ran a high fever and I was convinced it was Malaria.
Monday morning, they did a test. It came out negative. Monday night, the fever and shivering again. Tuesday morning, another test said negative to Malaria. Tuesday night, the fever and shivering again. I got some malaria tablets out. Had them in my hand as I phoned the doctor. No, he said don’t do it. Come back for another test tomorrow.
Next morning, the doctor looked at him and said it was hepatitis. We were actually relieved! Ok, he’d miss a semester from uni, but with rest and a strict diet, he’d be ok. (Only later did we learn that when malaria gets really bad, it causes hepatitis.)
The doctor ordered some tests. Everything began working against us then. The tests could not be done in Beira hospital, so we’d have to go to the Italian medical centre (they had one for their peace-keeping forces then). They had an inspection coming up, so could not do the tests till Friday. Even the Indian doctor with the Indian peace-keeping forces was on leave...
Anyway, we had the tests done on the Friday, by which time Bozo had become really sick. The results came in on Saturday, with advice for him to be hospitalized. Onset of renal failure, it said.
Of course, Beira hospital did not have the necessary equipment, so we chartered a plane and flew him to Harare the same day. He was admitted to Avenue’s Clinic. None of the doctors or nurses gave any indication as to how sick he was, so we went home, relieved that he was in good hands and would be ok.
Six o’clock next morning, we got a call from the hospital that we should get there soon. When we reached, he was already in a coma. They seemed to be doing what they could, but his organs began to fail one by one. In the end, his heart stopped. At 1330 hours, the doctors called us in and told us. He had died at 1320.
Many of you who knew and loved Bozo never knew what actually happened. You just heard out of the blue one day that he had passed away. That must have been so difficult, and more so because we didn’t bring him back home.
Today is the 5th of June. Every year, around this time, I feel like I’m going mad. Try as I might, I just can’t help it. I begin to remember everything, with every detail starting with how I was counting the days to when the four of us would be together for the first time in about four years. Bozo’s hols from BITS started on the 20th of May that year, 1994 and he and Mini flew out here. Arup and I received them in Harare. I remember how THRILLED we were.
Well, since I AM thinking about it, I thought I’d use this blog (thanks yet again, Mini) to think aloud, as it were…
Arup had for the past six months been planning this trip around Zimbabwe. Hotels and fares were all booked, and we looked forward to a brilliant time together, which we did have. We took the overnight ferry on lake Kariba, and spent a few days on one of the islands, with elephants, hippos and crocs for company. Then we drove down to Vic Falls. Spent a few days there, at Hwang-He National Reserve.
Mini, in the meantime, had us truly worried. She’d developed this little lump in one cheek. So we decided to drive back to Harare. Had her checked out.
I can’t believe Bozo shook the doctor’s hand and then waited outside with a magazine. He was already sick, though we didn’t know that then…
We were so relieved Mini was ok, we all went and saw a movie – that’s what this family does when anything untoward or special happens!
That night, Bozo had a fever. Said he’d caught cold and would be ok with a couple of Dispirins.
The next day, Saturday the 28th, we started back for Beira. We stayed the night at Drifter’s in Mutare. When Bozo got high fever again, I was alarmed but he still just insisted on having a couple of Crocins and going to bed. We should have gone back to Harare then. We know that now and Arup and I will forever blame ourselves for not doing it. It's a terrible burden to live with ...
The next day he was fine and we carried on and reached home on Sunday evening. He again ran a high fever and I was convinced it was Malaria.
Monday morning, they did a test. It came out negative. Monday night, the fever and shivering again. Tuesday morning, another test said negative to Malaria. Tuesday night, the fever and shivering again. I got some malaria tablets out. Had them in my hand as I phoned the doctor. No, he said don’t do it. Come back for another test tomorrow.
Next morning, the doctor looked at him and said it was hepatitis. We were actually relieved! Ok, he’d miss a semester from uni, but with rest and a strict diet, he’d be ok. (Only later did we learn that when malaria gets really bad, it causes hepatitis.)
The doctor ordered some tests. Everything began working against us then. The tests could not be done in Beira hospital, so we’d have to go to the Italian medical centre (they had one for their peace-keeping forces then). They had an inspection coming up, so could not do the tests till Friday. Even the Indian doctor with the Indian peace-keeping forces was on leave...
Anyway, we had the tests done on the Friday, by which time Bozo had become really sick. The results came in on Saturday, with advice for him to be hospitalized. Onset of renal failure, it said.
Of course, Beira hospital did not have the necessary equipment, so we chartered a plane and flew him to Harare the same day. He was admitted to Avenue’s Clinic. None of the doctors or nurses gave any indication as to how sick he was, so we went home, relieved that he was in good hands and would be ok.
Six o’clock next morning, we got a call from the hospital that we should get there soon. When we reached, he was already in a coma. They seemed to be doing what they could, but his organs began to fail one by one. In the end, his heart stopped. At 1330 hours, the doctors called us in and told us. He had died at 1320.
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