Education

Education means light
Again asset
Education makes one great
Education is knowledge
A change of attitude
An art and enjoyment
A power to build oneself a human.

29 August, 2023.
Monira Mahbub is a student of grade 6 in Nawabganj Government Girls' High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.

***
the birds drink 
the flow of silence
autumn creeps with rain

***
corner of the mouth mocks crying
bird leaves fly out the window

the smoke of silence rises
buried in the cemetery tears mixed with memories

***
no one talks with torn faces

***
open bellies conceal simple truths

***
fog from which the limbs 
of people or monsters grow

***
fish die in the sugar 
of water happiness

***
Religion is a hobby club for those who have never died
 

***
The secret of the soul
Secretion of guilt
Who will kiss my neck and turn me into a vampire?
 
The dream of a soldier who will turn a gun into a sex shop toy
 
Who will kiss me?
Nobody


***
Mosquitoes fly to the scent of blood
So are military pilots
 

***
There are as many explosions as there are stars in the sky
Every night to underground storage and bunkers
An alarm siren sounds
 
Life is wonderful as if it started from an egg and not from a dead chicken


***

The grass we grew up in
The ant seeks protection from 
Тhe summer heat


***
man brings bundles of hay home
mother cooks dinner
father lights a fireplace
the dog sleeps and sees the son


***
strange sky falls on your head
solar stroke


***
the crunch of leaves underfoot reminds of Jesus


***
stove warms the house
dragonflies under fire freeze
dragons do not fly in order to warm insects with fire

1. SILENT STRUGGLES
My childhood unfolded.
A tale of misery within an adventure never told. 
Verbal arrows aimed, and with each pronouncements a savage onslaught. 

The word "depression" was a sinful joke in my household and remains an abomination never to be spoken about.
I was called "weird" and "strange" because I never spoke at public gatherings.
people said I was possessed by powers unknown or I was just acting up.How cruel. 

Mental torments weighs down my fragile back.
Within the walls of home, a battleground of strife and animosity.
Broken plates, cups and souls became the order of the day.
parents' love turned bitter, a tempests dreadful roar.
The wounded witness I was, violated in every way possible and amidst this tumult, academic pressure grew. What a fate. 

My pen bleeds but in the darkness I found my guiding star.
Through the ink-stained pages of my journal, I discovered a sanctuary where my thoughts could flow freely, unburdening my troubled mind.
Each word became a lifeline, a means to navigate the stormy seas of my life.

2. INTERWOVEN ECHOES
I seek my reflection in voice and personas.
A face hidden within the depths of connection.
I listen closely, in each word and tone. 
In your words, I search for my own rhyme.
A mirror of my soul in the sands of time.
I look deeper and I see, it's not just in you but also in me.
Are we all mirrors reflecting the light?
In the tapestry of voices day and night.
In your essence and in mine, intertwined we became. 
A kaleidoscope of selves forever undone.
In the voices of others we discover our art.

Biography
My name is Hannah Aipoh. I am 17 years of age, I am a Nigerian poet with a flair for writing.

Doctor of Medicine, or Interpreter of Results?

There is now a recalcitrant trend among our people. It is not new, but
it sure is growing. Before now, everyone knew to seek the (medical)
doctor out whenever they ailed. It was the doctor who then decided
what investigations to order, and what treatment to give, after
thorough history taking and relevant physical examination. What we
find now is rather different, the well-documented physician-apathy
(illness behaviour) nonetheless. Now, our people wake up with symptoms and head straight to the medical laboratory or diagnostic centre.

Between them and the technicians, somebody decides what tests to be done, what scans to be carried out — because medic no suppose chop — and then the inevitable happens…

Again and again, I have had to explain to patients that yours truly is
a Doctor of Medicine and not an interpreter of results. I am licensed
to treat patients who are patient enough to subject themselves to my
care, not those who already know what to do and merely need my medical licence and indemnity insurance to safeguard their rashness. I find myself in this situation when the laboratory technician (or scientist) sends them to me with a laboratory result I did not request, or the sonographer (or sonologist) urges them away with the report of a scan I did not order, and that is invariably not useful to the patient at that material time! This is even if the patent medicine seller had not emptied the patient’s pockets before Mr. No-Free-Consultations is remembered.

There have been instances where patients underwent absolutely
unnecessary investigations for want of physician guidance — outright
fishing expeditions, in fact. This middle-aged bricklayer fell off the
scaffolding and noticed a chest pain not amenable to the numerous
massages of the traditional bonesetter. He was advised (don’t ask by
whom) to go for an abdominal scan! And then the inevitable happened: they needed a “me” to interpret the useless report and prescribe medication. Needless to say, I sent him for a chest x-ray which expectedly revealed two broken ribs and lung contusion. And after specialist treatment, he was back on his feet in a week! The medical curriculum is there for a reason and that is the reason medical students stay the longest in the university! Everybody is important o, but if you did not spend seven to ten years studying Medicine and Surgery, chances are that you cannot know all of what “I” am expected to know. If e no be panadol…

Our people go to the pharmacy to ask what eyedrop to use. They do not know, or do not care, that there are more than half a dozen causes of ‘red eye’. Someone took her friend’s glaucoma eyedrop container to the pharmacy to buy, without any tests or diagnosis. The ophthalmologist must be avoided at all cost, and when they go blind it must be their village people, demons or arrows at work! The first aid for ear ache is olive oil. But no, our people must put ear drop (do not mind that there are various types), and even hydrogen peroxide with its exothermicity is not spared. The otologist is their enemy, and they only go to him for hearing aids — or polypectomy. Someone was taking his friend’s heart failure medication, never minding that the cause of his own chronic cough was tuberculosis! How many shall one recount? And when they complain to me and I say why not go to the hospital, they are quick to remind me that they are not sick; “they that are whole have no need of the physician, but they that are sick”. — Mark
2: 17.

Our people now only remember the hospital when they see the grave
approaching, but when they die after spending precious time going from one druggist to another, the medic must be held responsible for not performing magic. As I am writing this, a patient has come to complain of easy defatiguability after treating malaria and ‘typhoid’
exhaustively and undergoing self-prescribed blood work that confirmed nothing else. Guess what? He has simple old hypertension! He could have had a stroke or a heart attack if commonsense had not finally dragged him to the hospital…

Those are the things we see. And oh, let me not remember the
Google-said people. If Google is good enough to diagnose (not
diagonise, please) you, let Google treat you abeg. Do not endanger my medical licence with your recklessness; do not turn and say it was Dr. Ayk who managed you; we both know you had damaged your kidneys from consuming “mix” (a concoction of varied analgesics and steroids with or without vitamins and calcium tablets) from chemists for years. Hmm, all the roadside gbogbonise and homemade decoction nko — with and without alcohol? Perhaps in future we will discuss how some alagbo fortify their ‘natural products’ with conventional drugs!

It will take a lot of reorientation to even begin to scratch the
surface. For starters, let the relevant government agencies enforce
extant laws on what patent medicine sellers cannot dispense, let
pharmacies seize prescriptions, let medics stop over-the-phone
consultation AND PRESCRIPTION BY TEXTS, and let unlicensed health workers be dissuaded perceptibly. The Nigeria Medical Association should hasten doctor prescription stamps so our pharmacist siblings can root out fake prescriptions and save our people from themselves.

Let all genuine healthcare providers remember that customers may
always be right, but patients seldom are…

Ayokunle ADELEYE writes from Odogbolu LGA, holds an MBChB from Olabisi Onabanjo University, and is licenced by the Medical and Dental Council of Nigeria. He may be reached at adelayok@gmail.com.

Twilight Fire 

Tonka bean ghosting your nose provokes interest
Sparking flames of desire to escape the gloom 
Between my cold lips, secrets go to have a rest,
Midnight is between my desires as I show interest.
My visage is a puzzle, can you pass my test? 
As you try to touch the flame, your smile does bloom,
Under the red moon, you catch me and can attest 
To the fact that I am worth the risk and your interest
As we make our great escape away from the gloom. 




Vaping Away A Lifetime

The youth of today 
Smoking their lungs into charcoal 
The dangers that lurk behind 
Brightly colored pens 
Pretending to be harmless, 
When they are filled with heavy 
Metals and other toxic substances
Behind the apple scent 
There is cancer, organ damage, 
And medical debt 
Each puff is another day that you will
never get back 
Each cough is another scar in your lungs 
Suffocating you with every inhale
Vaping steals your future 
Because it destroys your health
And without that 
You have no lifetime to live.

Love Marriage


Jisan now studies in the step of B.A. That was 4 years ago. He was studying in class of eleven, then. At that time in class 9 in his school, there were 40 students. They lived in harmony with each other. At that time, Jisan disliked one of his girlfriends very much. His girlfriend's name was Asha. Jisan could not bear the hope with his two eyes. He treated Asha very badly. He did not like her. Asha also did not like Jisan at that time. They both did not like each other. Asha's house and Jisan's house were in the same village. Asha was always annoyed by Jisan. Jisan was very mischievous at that time. Then, when they passed SSC exam and entered class eleven, they still get admission in the same school. A boy named Sijan liked Asha then.  He was talking to Asha on mobile. Sijan and Jisan's house was a little apart. Jisan learnt about the incident since Sijan started liking Asha. When Sijan talked to Asha, Jisan listened all the conversations. Jisan and Sijan were good friends. Sijan slowly related to Asha. Jisan taked Asha's mobile number in secret from Sijan one day and Jisan started annoyance to Asha. Slowly, Asha stopped talking to Sijan. Jisan was the one, she talked to most of the times. Suddenly, one day Asha's father came to know that his daughter talked to Jisan.  He called Jisan and said "Don't talk to my daughter after today!" Then love started between Jisan and Asha. 

Jisan didn't talk on the phone but he still talked outside or at school. A few days passed like this. Asha's father again found out that Jisan was talking to Asha. Asha's father told Jisan again that, Jisan should not talked to his daughter. A few days later, Jisan started talking to Asha again. Jisan was a non-stop slave. He thought that he would leave Asha after getting married. Though Jisan could not tolerate Asha, now Jisan is madly in love with her. Asha also began to love him. Both started loving each other. When Asha's family pressed on Jisan, Jisan did not back down.

All his friends also slowly came to know that, the two of them were in love. Everyone started talking about them. Jisan's family did not say anything about it, but Asha's family could not accept it. Asha's father decided to send her away so that Jisan could forget her. But Jisan would never forget hope. Indeed, Asha was admitted by her family to a residential college far away. Jisan did not know where Asha was admitted at first.  Later, Asha called Jisan on his mobile and said, "I am in Asian College. Dad left me in this college." Jisan went there the next day and took Asha with him and went for a walk. The college teacher noticed that. He told Asha's father about that. Asha's father then took the marriage proposal to Jisan's house and said, "My daughter must marry your son. He has been dating my daughter for a long time. He is not leaving my daughter’s behind." He also said, "If your son marry Asha and you are willing to give, my family will hopefully accept Jisan immediately." 

Because, Asha's family was furious. But, Jisan's father did not agree with this comment. He did not want to marry off his son at such a young age. Moreover, Jisan did not do any work. So, he was not happy with that comment. Jisan's father said to Jisan, "Dad! Don't follow Asha anymore. You will marry her when you grow up." But, Jisan said, "No, Dad. I will marry with Asha now. But her father did not marry him at such a young age. Jisan told his father the next day, "Dad! I will kill myself if you don't manage Asha soon." Then Jisan's father said, "You don't have to do this. You are not of marriageable age now. Besides, you are not a working man. I either accept Asha. But what will you feed Asha after marriage? So, if you establish yourself I confirm you the marriage.

Still Jisan said, "No Dad, I will get married soon." So his father said, "Okay. you can do it after your HSC exam in next 2 years. Although Jisan was not very happy with his father's decision. There was nothing he could do about that, so he agreed to the decision. They completed their HSC exam and got married. Jisan's father died a few days after the marriage. The family was supported by the income earned by Jisan's father. How to proceed now? Now, all the responsibilities of the family are on Jisan.

By now, Jisan understood why his father did not want to give him the permision for marriage. But, Jisan realized it too lately. There was nothing to do, he had to run the family. So, he went looking for a job. He got a job as an actor, where he had to work for a a movie with a girl. Jisan had no other work at hand. Meanwhile, there was tension in the family. But, Asha said, she would not let Jisan doing that. Because Jisan had no choice, he was forced to do that. When Jisan went to shoot, Asha was crying that her husband would act with another girl! Asha told Jisan one day, "If you go shooting again, I won't have a relationship with you anymore." Hearing this, Jisan fell into a great danger. His wife on one side, half-completed film on the other. He could not decide which one he would choose. So, he got tensed. If the film was not completed, he would not get the full amount for his job! The next morning when the film director called Jisan, why was he late, Asha then picked up the phone and told that Jisan would not go there again.

Then Jisan had no other way. The money Jisan earned as an
actor, after a few days it ran out. Jisan on the other hand, couldn't find any work. Jisan and Asha starved for a day and Asha brings Jisan to her father's house. Then, Asha's father said to Jisan and Asha, "Your desire to get married is satisfied? You had grown big wings to get married, now where are they! I forbade you to get married, even if you disobeyed me. Any of you in my house, Don’t give up!"Theybecame destitute. There is a saying, "It hurts too much!", so too much work is not good, which Jisan and Asha feel in their bones.   Prince Jisan is now a farmer and runs the family as a day laborer. They have now, "After meat comes mustard!"

Nurujjaman is a student of grade 9 in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.

Homeland

I love my country like a flower,
I am great because of you.
First a welcome threshold,
Indescribable world,
Circumvent your soil,
I will take care of your herbs.

Let me say it in my mother tongue,
My soil is rich in character.
You are the moon shining in my sky,
You are a good host.
Look like heaven,
Your name is kind, dear.

The nations of the world are envious,
Take a lesson from patriots.
Peace prevails in people,
"Dormon" is the source of inspiration.
My people are the leader of my people,
He said that he was out of his mind.





I, Begoyi ( Allabergenova Aytjan ) Egamberdievna, was born on May 10, 1954 in Karl Marks (now Ellikkala district, G. Odilov OFY) farm, Tortkol district. My father, Egamberdi Allabergenov, was a freight forwarder at the "Qirqqizsovkhozvodstroy" trust, and my mother, Orunova Reymajan, was a housewife.

In 1960, I went to study at the Alisher Navoi school in Tortkol district (now Ellikkala), and in 1970 I graduated from the 10th grade of this school. In 1971, I entered medical school in Tortkol district.
In 1973, I graduated from the university and started working in the district central hospital. I worked as a nurse in a polyclinic. From 1979, I worked as an obstetrician in a city hospital until I retired.
Today, I am the mother of 5 children and the grandmother of 13 grandchildren and 2 great-grandchildren.
I retired in 2009.

I have been interested in reading and creating since I was young. Articles and poems in republican and district periodicals began to appear when I was a student at school.
My first book "The virtue of my life" was published in Tashkent in 2013 by "Akademnashr" publishing house.
In 2015, my poetry book "Fountain of Mercy" was published in Tashkent by "Akademnashr" publishing house.
In 2017, Turon Ikboli Publishing House published my book "The Motherland, I Live With You".

In February 2020, my book "Trials of the Mysterious World" was published.
At the end of March 2020, my book "The Remaining Soul" was published.
I participate in regional and republican newspapers and magazines with my works. I am an active participant in all regional and republican events.
I participate in Oynaijahon and radio with my performances.
I wrote 4 poetry books in verse, 1 book "The Remaining Day", stories and fairy tales in the prose direction.
I am a member of the Union of Writers of Uzbekistan and Karakolpakistan.