HOLLER LIKE TARZAN IN MECCA

HOLLER LIKE TARZAN IN MECCA

IT was 10 years ago, when I first started working at Mecca Hospital during Hajj season. There, I met so many patients with various disposition. However, I faced it all with patience. That was my job after all and furthermore, I was in the Holy Land. Among the those cases, the one that really touched my heart was of a 50-something patient, who was sent to the hospital by his friends on the second week of my working there.

     Physically, he looked fined, but his mind was all over the place. I really don't know what was on his mind. His friends found his behaviour be rather stranger too. Day and night he would scream. His body wasn't hot so obviously he wasn't having a fever. He was just spouting our incoherent mumblings.

     According to a close friend of his, as soon as he arrived at the hotel, the man suddenly started screaming while furtively peering at what was outside the window for no reason. In the beginning, his friend thought that the man was just fooling around. But when his behaviour started to get out of hand, they tried reprimanding him. But he simply ignored them.

     In short, the man really was not aware of what he was doing. He was put in a normal ward that I was attached to. Just like the other patients, he was free to move around wherever he wanted. But after several hours at the ward, the hospital staff and I were shocked when he started to scream and shout for no reason. His unusual behaviour made some of the staff and patients laughed.

     Those watching him could not help but laugh. Imagine that while he screamed, he would furtively peer out like he was seeing something in the distance. He placed both his hands onto his forehead. Then he placed them to his mouth, just like Tarzan did on TV when he's calling out to his animals friends.

     The hospital staff often chuckle at his behaviour, which continued to remain the same despite all the advice. At times, they would be taken by surprise when the man suddenly sprung out in front of them, just like Tarzan. When asked why he did it, he would just remain silent, emotionless.

     "Pak Cik, don't do that, you're disturbing all the other patients. If you're sick, having some throat, just tell me, ok?" said the doctor softly when one night when all the other patients were woken up by his screaming.

     The calmness only lasted a while, and then his 'illness' would return. The other night he caused the same problem. From dusk to dawn he screamed without stopping. The funny thing was that after a while, he would stop to ask for a glass of water as his throat felt dry.

     I tried to advice him but he never responded. He never get angry despite the fact that he was yelled at by some of the patients who could not stand his screaming. That was his 'standard practice' through out the two weeks that he stayed in the ward. He was only quiet when he slept.

     The worst time for the hospital staff was when he wanted to go in and out of the toilet. Before entering he would yell, and he would do the same before he stepped out.

     "Why is he here if he is mad?" I overheard one of the patient grumbling.

     "Issh... watch your mouth! Remember where we are," replied another patient who was leaning against his bed.

     There was one or two of his friends, or maybe relatives who came to visit, but there was no change to his 'illness'. The doctors too, were having difficulties unearthing his background because he refused to talk. According to his friends who sent him to the hospital, before coming to Mecca, he was actually a happy-go-lucky guy who religiously carried out his ibadah. Since he arrived in Mecca, he never got the chance to do anything as he was spending most of his time at the hospital.

     After several consultations, the doctors suggested that the patient was to be sent back to Malaysia for further treatment, as the tests here were not able to reveal a single ailment. With the help of his friends, his flight was arranged. He was sent to the Abdel Aziz Airport in Jeddah in an ambulance. My job was to accompany him, together with two other friends.

     As soon as the ambulance stopped at the airport car park, the man started to cause some problems. He refused to come down.

     "The ground is too hot," he said, with a pout.

     We tried to persuade him many times. Eventually, he stretched one foot out of the van. But before it even touched the ground, he pulled it back in again, and immediately closed the van door.

     "No, I can't step down! The ground is too hot. How am I going to get down?" he said, screaming. His eyes were wide and bulging like a frightened man. We looked at each other.

     "It's not hot, Pak Cik, just look at this. There's nothing here," said my friend, who was outside the van. The man kept fidgeting on the ground where he stood. He continued to say that it was hot and that his feet could scorch from the heat of the ground.

     "You are wearing expensive shoes, right Pak Cik! It won't be hot!" I said while holding his shoulders. In the end, he agreed to be lifted up. The three of us lifted and brought him into the airport. Many eyes were on us. One of the staff then arranged his ticket and luggage. We had to wait for two hours there as we arrived quite early. We were worried that he might cause a commotion while waiting. Than God, he didn't, but something else happened. He started to mumble to himself.

     "I'm so sorry! So sorry..! It's true what you said about not taking the property of orphans! Don't take the property of orphans! But I was stubborn," he said. Several times he muttered those sentences to himself. But he never cried. We looked at each other. The man only lowered his head while staring at the floor. How we pity him!

  

     "Pak Cik, what did you say just then?" I asked after hearing him repeat the same thing again and again.

     I stroked his back gently, trying to calm him. Slowly, he looked up. His eyes were focused in my direction. His lips quivered, like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out. Then he looked at his friends, one by one. I saw how they waited for him to say something but still, nothing. Then he lowered his head again. Momentarily, he continued to speak in a louder voice, as if trying to make a point to somebody.

     "It was true what you said. I should not have taken the orphans' property. Orphans' property! Not mine! But I did it anyway. It's true what you said! Now I believe you. I believe!" he said, shaking his head. That was the only thing he said over and over again.

     When it was time to depart, we tried to guide him to the waiting room. But this time he wanted to walk by himself. We saw him walked like nothing happened to him. We only accompanied him up to the check point. He went straight in without turning to look at anybody or shaking our hands. I felt relieved that he was safely returning home even though he had failed to perform his Hajj.

     Those who unjustly taking the property of orphans, they are putting fire into their own bodies. They will endure blazing fire of hell. (An-Nisa 4:10)

N / F : FROM "THE BEST COLLECTION OF STORIES FROM MECCA", BY MASTIKA.