“What’s your name?” She asked me as she looked deep into my eyes. Didn’t she know me or was she bluffing? My body was weak and my chest in pain. She was wearing personal protective clothing. I looked at her face, with my dry white eyes. The fear in them was real.
“What’s your name?” she asked me again. I answered, “Mwema Jitu,” I gazed at her ones more and asked, “Where I’m I? I need to speak to my wife!” She just looked at me holding a pen and a paper on her clipboard writing on it. I looked at her face as she took one more glance at me as she left.
Questions started to run through my mind as I gazed around. Why was I on a hospital bed? Why was I in an isolation room? Why are the doctors examining me? Suddenly a man wearing the same protective clothing came into the room. He started to write on his clipboard immediately after coming close to me, “Mr. Mwema Jitu, MP North Muwinyi; Kenya” he said. I looked at his eyes to confirm what he was saying, “Yeah, that’s correct,” I answered, “You are here, quarantined for the sake of your people. You had failed to adhere to the guidelines provided by our Ministry of National Health to quarantine yourself after your failed Aid trip to China.”
“Where is my family?” I asked as I was trying to confirm what the doctor was saying. I remembered; yeah, I was requested to quarantine myself. It wasn’t that bad by then. It was just a cough and a little sweat. That’s how cough is. Just comes and goes. I had taken a glass full of lemon juice at the airport before I went to my home. I had seen people angry at me on social media asking why I had not quarantined myself. The disease only affects Chinese, that’s what I thought. It was very bad at their home. It can’t pass through the borders to our nation. That’s what I thought. I had reached home safely, with a little cough; I guess. I greeted my home guards, hugged my two children, and kissed my wife. I ate the food our house help had cooked and even gave a token of appreciation to my personal driver before he left for his house.
“Your wife died this morning, your daughter and son are fighting for their lives at Muwinyi Constituency Hospital. You are Patient A on our countries infection’s case, “Please take them to a better hospital. Please, take them abroad!” I cried, “I’ll pay anything for their wellbeing!” I shouted, “All international borders are closed! either by sea, air, or road. Nobody is entering or leaving their country the virus is real!” He spoke, wrote something on his paper had one more stare at my face, and left, closing the door behind him.
“It looks like it is my mistake,” I told myself as I lay on the bed. My breathing seemed difficult. I thought how ignorant I had become. “Only the Chinese? The virus can’t move through the borders?” I asked myself. Suddenly tears started to flow down from my eyes to my ears, “I don’t know if I’m going to heal from what I have done to my family and my people,” I told myself, “Oh, what have I done!”