PASSION OR NOTHING

The past week has seen Kenya mourn the loss of Mr. Kenneth Matiba, a hero to most and maybe not so much to some. Amid the hullabaloo going on in the media, the medical fraternity silently lost yet another hero.

Professor James Bill Onjua Oyieke silently left this world, evoking a deep sense of loss from those who knew him. This is a true reflection of the life he lived. He lived a quiet life but it was so deeply entrenched in the passion he had for his job that it was impossible not to impact those around him.

I first met Prof. Oyieke during my induction to the department of obstetrics and gynaecology at the University of Nairobi where I had enrolled for my postgraduate training. Immediately, my colleagues and I picked up on his famous nick-name, ‘Prof. Bow-tie’. He was always neatly dressed, wearing his white doctor’s coat and the trademark red bow-tie.

He was one of the only four professors the department had at the time and instead of being intimidating, he was extremely accommodating and engaging. He walked with us throughout the course even when we were being impossible. It takes a special kind of person to teach and mentor adults in an apprenticeship course but Prof. did it with such ease.

Rotating with Prof. Oyieke in the same team for three months each year was more than enough time for one to appreciate the dedication he accorded his work. He was present for every class, every teaching ward round, every specialist clinic that he was scheduled to attend with such zest.

I vividly recall how during the ward rounds, despite the team being so big, when he talked to the patient, the rest of us would fade from his vision. His focus was entirely on the patient on the bed. He would ask all the pertinent questions and would take his time to explain to her about her condition or decisions taken. He would tease the patients and ensure he drew a smile from each one before moving on.

I appreciated his passion, a resource that many a times I misused, because I knew he would never say no. Severally I called him to consult on phone about the care of a patient even when he was not on duty. Many times I learnt that he had excused himself from a meeting or conference to respond to my queries. He not only helped me manage the patient, but took time to teach me even on the phone. He would never rush.

Being scheduled to operate with him was always a treat. He made the most complicated of surgeries seem so easy, yet the science at the back of my mind would be a constant reminder of the herculean task he was executing. He was always so easygoing in the operating room, teasing the young students under his charge but always making a point that you would never forget in the course of your career.

It was during one of these theatre sessions that the man behind the title of Professor began to peep through. He loved his family to a fault, being especially proud of his daughters. He obviously had a soft spot for the girl child, seeing as he treated us like his daughters. But what was amazing was his passion for music.

Professor was in love with classical music. He sang in his church choir and attended all classical concerts without fail! He always made time in his busy schedule to attend choir practice at church every Thursday. He told me that in life, it was important to pursue two passions. One is the career you choose and the other would be the one thing that relaxes you.

It was amazing to see him in his element on stage. I made a point of watching him steeped in his passion. Just like when he was with his patients, when he was singing or watching a performance, all else faded. It took a lot of cajoling to convince him to let us film him in a trial series we intended to shoot for doctors and what else they excel in outside the hospital corridors.

Unfortunately before we could get started, Professor fell ill. He postponed the shoot without letting us know the real reason but he was categorical that he would be back to shoot once he had sorted out whatever he was dealing with. I only learnt much later that he was seeking treatment abroad.

The news of his ill health left the fraternity shaken and everyone rallied to support him as best as they could. He battled it out bravely and came out a victor. We celebrated his recovery selfishly. We were not ready to let go of our mentor, teacher, father and friend. We needed to continue seeing his name plate on his door at the University of Nairobi, Department of Obstetrics and Gynaecology offices. He had been a member of staff there since 1975 and we could not imagine him not being a part of the faculty.

He gave us a full year of hope before falling ill again and bowing out of this race. We may not comprehend the sense of loss that his family feels but we stand with them. We got to savour a piece of him that we wouldn’t trade for anything. I may not know them personally but knew them through the eyes of a father and grandfather who would give anything for his family.

I know a good number of young adults walking around this town who he presided over their arrival in various maternity wards across town. I know several women who owe their health to him, having stood at their bedside at their point of need and given of his knowledge and skill so selflessly.

As we eulogize our public figures, allow us a moment to pay homage to those who serve humanity too. They may not have made it to the front pages of the paper but they were part of thousands of families when their kin needed medical care!