Painting the Agony

The headline in today’s paper caught my attention, and with interest – I read through the article. The case of someone who’s ill with a dangerous form of tuberculosis a target of all media people with its overwhelming implication. As an international issue to deal with, a stark landscape of affliction; being blamed for possible contaminations, Mr Andrew Speaker, the scapegoat here. This reminded me of my own experience as a seminarian in my own land; I once fell very ill and needed – a space for complete isolation: a quarantine! It’s an unforgettable experience for me. life lived like in abandonment; its effect on me spilled out over history being vulnerable and reflective, an agony. I hate to recall that particular mem’ry were I felt driven away from my community; it swelled to two weeks as I was isolated, with a running sore of pain against them. But that’s part of what we ought to do with caution and concern to others who might be in danger; that sickness, the so-called ‘chicken pox’ knocked me down a lengthy episode marked with sadness, drenched in anger. Like profiling passengers in transportation system, for fear of terrorism who might cause explosion; it’s same thing when one carries a disease – contagious there’s a need for isolation or quarantine in procedure. With today’s world overdosed by all forms of ailments, there’s urgency or a wake-up call to everybody; precaution and prevention that give birth to fruition; a jarring departure for plagues of all seasons.