Spider Circus is a fast-paced YA fantasy/adventure novel, with more twists and turns than a Gordian knot. The main protagonist, Lizzie McCoy, is a headstrong and emotional teenage girl with yet-to-be-discovered talents. The first three chapters show a girl in the kind of turmoil that many teenagers can relate to – her parents have just recently divorced, and her relationship with both parents and her younger siblings are strained, at their best. Part of her seems to long for simpler times, when her parents were together, her emotions more in control, and the pressure to fit in less intense than it has been for her lately. And then there are those uncontrollable “dark clouds” of her temper, and that feeling of being trapped…that is, until a stranger hands Lizzie the flyer to a very special performance of the Spider Circus.
Before long, Lizzie is deep into the world of the Spider Circus – travelling not just far from her home, but from her world as well. She learns of a group of people called “Dimensionals”, who can travel from one dimensional plane to the next, world after world, and with it comes a truly infinite possibility for continuing adventures. This is the point where, at some points, the story seems to get almost too rushed – their encounters hitting quickly as they discover everything from selkies to scientists, dragons to hot air balloons, all while Lizzie learns the ins and outs of her new “wiredancer” job with the world-hopping circus, and even more daunting, honing her abilities as not just a dimensional traveler, but a “Spider” – one whose abilities are even stronger and more complex. Although perhaps it’s a fitting pace the story sets, as it puts the reader in the same overwhelmed and fascinated mind of the protagonist herself – no longer feeling the crush of being trapped, she is met with the almost more frightening reality of more space than she could ever hope to explore in her lifetime.
The real story in the novel, though, is within the circus folk themselves. The compelling dialogue is one of the strongest points of the story, as Lizzie learns some of the darker stories and secrets of her travelling companions, and deals with a relentless bully that seems (at first) to dislike her for no other reason than the color of her skin (for unlike a great deal of fantasy novels, this one features a heroine of color, dark-skinned, dreadlocked and all.) There is treachery, revenge, kindness, understanding, and towards the end, forgiveness and resolution for many of the characters involved. There also seems to be a bit of romance on the horizon for Lizzie, but nothing too steamy for the younger readers to be reading. Then of course, there is the “Big Bad” of the story, the sinister and shape-changing Shadows, who are hoping to use Lizzie, her talents, and her friends for a much darker purpose.
Some look at the cat and say that he is selfish, and proud,
Or that he is headstrong and difficult to direct;
No loyal friend or guardian, the feline! they insist;
Quite unwilling to “roll over” or “fetch,” this is true;
An amazing predator, but a poor companion, say others
of slightly more balanced judgement, who prefer
the obsequious flattery and slobbering obedience of the canine;
Others, including the author of this poem, see it differently.Meanwhile, the cat goes about her graceful motions,
heedless of their many opinions,
takes what she needs from them,
and is content
My mission in the world of literature is the same as my life mission—to save the WORD from “whatever” living as “whatever” and dying as “whatever.” This can only be accomplished by unmercifully confronting the intelligentsia of the world and their penultimate lie of Rationalism.
Only through Human Nature can a lie be seen as a lie and not merely rationalized away as a misunderstanding or recalibrated into a reality that doesn’t exist . . . or worse, is perverted to the point of evangelism.
This evening, I do not like the way the sun sets in gray ash on the horizon, or how the twilight leaves such a bitter taste, like tears mingled with a shiver. I do not like the smell of roses picked to be braided into crowns or gathered into garlands, nor the lingering scent of a violet born in the shadow of cypresses. Tomorrow on the green hill, there will be a new grave with a new name because death blew on a budding flower and a tempest broke a sapling. If your weight is light to those whose age has overwhelmed too many days and nights, I find you quite heavy, O inexorable earth, when you weigh thus.
A WHOLE BASKET FULL OF DEAD SNAKES
The Mistake won’t stop blogging about me, I say.
No one reads blogs, The Dark Lady says, adding,
No one reads poetry either. Why should you care?
I ignore the dig because she has a point,
But then again, so do I.
Why can’t she be more like you? I say.
Jesus. I wish we could just get divorced twice,
The Mistake can’t even get being an ex-wife
Right. Charming, The Dark Lady says.
Exactly, I say, though technically I’m not
Agreeing with her, charming in much the same way
That Marburg virus is charming.
Whatever, The Dark Lady says.
No, seriously, I say, forgetting about The Mistake,
Marburg is an awesome thing,
And now, since there’s no stopping me,
The Dark Lady takes a deep pull and snorts
Menthol smoke like a bored, middle-aged dragon
With giant fake breasts.
It’s a zoonotic filovirus related to Ebola,
Possibly vectored through Egyptian fruit bats—
These are cute little cat/rat/bird beasties,
I say, that work hard to pollinate the ageless Baobab,
Everyone wants to be a doctor, yet not everyone wants to be a
“medicine man”. Every parent wants to have a doctor as a child, to be
called Mama Doctor, Papa Doctor; even if such child is actually a(n
unlicensed) patent medicine dispenser. Yes, ours is a society of
vanities, so that even the dumb politician pays (for his credentials)
to be doctored– not nursed. And now that “doctor” has become a dime a
dozen, they have set eyes on Consultant.
It all started many years ago when other health students were taught
that Medical Students were no better than them, that they had all it
took to compete with us and displace us, that the ELEMENTARY human
anatomy, physiology, pharmacology, pathology, paediatrics, obstetrics
and/or gynaecology that Medical Doctors taught their forebears to
upgrade them from Diploma holders to BSc carriers are enough armament
to fight us. So much for gratitude!
They were told that they are the generational ones, as against the
previous, orthodox, ones. They were told to give us hell. And why
shouldn’t they? After all, knowledge puffeth up– as does ignorance.
They were told they could be us. Yet, if we were no better, why then
be us?
The reason is obvious. It is half-knowledge. And it is all they
possess. It is half, not because it did not spend so long in school,
which it didn’t; or because it did not have a curriculum half as
comprehensive, which, again, it didn’t. It is half because it cannot
cure the patient; because it needs the Doctor (for it) to function
optimally; because it is, as my pharmacy wife put it, la cram, la
pour. And as the Yoruba observe,
And as with everything indoctrination, it was swallowed hook, line and
sinker by every Tom, Dick and Harry– and still is. The first symptom
was the protracted arguments with any medical student they could find,
ranting about how we know the same things, GENERATIONAL (emphasis
theirs) nurses that they (now) are; BSc nursing students more so than
School of Nursing folk… The first sign was conducting their own ward
rounds. And finally the chameleon has shown us its colour:
Consultancy.
I have not bothered to read the numerous (read: innumerable) reasons
they must have given. I am a Nigerian; I know how manifestos are
written for and crammed by– la cram, la pour–; I know that the leaf
dancing atop the river dances to tunes from beneath the waters. They
feel that spending a lifetime with myriads of doctors makes them at
least as good as one. Yet, spending a lifetime in court does not make
one a Judge; for the robes do not make the Pope, neither does the hat.
Or does it now? now that we have GENERATIONAL blah-blah-blah– emphasis
mine.
And again, if we are no better, why do male nurses so want to be us?
Could it be because they feel so out of place in an overwhelmingly
feminine profession that injures their ego, that will not even allow
them be midwives, or is it midhusbands? Could it be that the title
Consultant will soothe such injured ego hitherto (barely) bandaged by
CNO-ship? No, it is not personal– yet.
He who comes to Equity must come with clean hands, and not protect
their own interests, their own traditions, while they fight others’
status quo: Nurses, for example, hold onto their tradition that
midwifery is the exclusive domain of females; how then can they
protest our tradition that Consultancy is the exclusive reserve of
Doctors? Shall we talk about pharmacists, technologists, and whoever
else waka come?
Personally, I do not mind having C. Nurses, Pharmacists,
Technologists, or whoever else waka come. Already, na the whole world
sabi say no be only Doctors waka come. Plus, eventually there will be
only one Consultant, and that will be the one that always was: us. Yet
have I found myself wondering if they just have hidden agenda, if
coveting our Consultancy a step toward much more sinister objectives!
So that I fear for the consequences of this theft. I fear for our
society. I fear for posterity. For our society is one where every
chemist shop is a hospital, where “doctors” are seen, injections given
and abortions done; where everyone working in a hospital is a Doctor,
even a brown-uniformed orderly (that instructed one patient to X-ray
his infant’s testicles; and another, his wife’s pregnancy; yes, I said
X-RAY, not ultrasound); where a Nurse forgets a tight tourniquet on a
neonate for so long that she nearly ruins his arm; where Pharm D is
misconstrued to be a means of turning pharmacy students into Medical
Doctors as against PhD-holding pharmacists. Alas, everyone wants to be
a Medical Doctor, even when they say we are no better!…
No, this is not to say Doctors are perfect; we are only a lot safer. I
for one have been in Medical School for 9 years and I’m finally in
final year! Na beans? All so I can be a lot safer; abegi just leave
ASUU out of it. If I had read Nursing for instance, even at BSc level,
I would be a lot more than I am: I would have been in the Civil
Service for some four years, I should be a Professor by now! Yet am I
still here saying Yes, Ma to even nurses I am older than and way
better than, saying Sorry, Ma to nurses that were in SS-what when I
was already in Med School. Abegi, no provoke me o!
Sentiments aside, If our purpose of working in the Health Sector is
the wellbeing of the patient, how does the (overbloated ego of the)
C. Nurse/Pharmacist/Technologist help the mission, other than creating
the proverbial two-captains-in-a-ship?– and we all know how that ends.
And it is in this spirit that I salute the ongoing NMA strike action.
It is not at all sentimental; it is not to show the superiority
complex that Doctors are said to have; it is not to display that
we are gods on earth
that they say we are
bearing in hands the powers of life and death
that we actually do bear;
it is to verify what the others have said.
They have said that Doctors are no big deal. They have said they can
do our work. They have even said they are more important. Well, this
is Nigeria: all talk and no walk. Or can they walk the talk? Can they
admit patients? Can they manage patients on their own, or even
together sef? Can they discharge patients? Whatever happened to
‘Nurses own the wards but Doctors own the patients’?
Yet that will not be all: They have eyes on the position of Chief
Medical Director. Being Permanent Secretaries of Ministries of Health
is not enough, they want to run hospitals and own them. So they can
kill unsuspecting masses– like they already do in the chemist shops
cum abortion centres some of them run, even orderlies?
Yet this is past nipping in the bud: they have become an undying
hydra-headed monster; cutting off a head, an ambition, only brings two
in its place!
Oh, where are the eyes of Medusa?
Ayokunle Ayk Fowosire.
Sagamu.
And peradventure my position is yet ambiguous, nurses own the wards,
techs own the labs and Doctors own the patients. Which is the
greatest?: wards, labs or patients?; which would YOU rather be?
Abegi, anyone that wants to be a Consultant (and particularly Chief
Medical Director) should enroll in a Medical School o jare; JAMB is yet
conducting UTME. And when you don’t make that annoyingly high score,
don’t quit, don’t go to School of Nursing or School of Health, keep
writing JAMB every year. Trust me; you will get in– eventually…
And by the time you have finally wriggled out of Med School and
Residency having failed many an exam, you will have understood why
many a parent screams Praise the Lord at Inductions into the medical
profession, and why Chief Medical Director remains the exclusive
reserve of Doctors.
And only then can you truly be a Consultant– without My FOOT!
