When they called Boma exorbitant.

'Do you smoke?'

I was obviously not physically in that space when the doctor asked me that question. There was a cool breeze blowing from the half-open window right across my face. I blinked, gasped for air, and turned my face to the right, catching my mother’s daring gaze. I blinked again, looking over at the doctor with his face puzzled, I realized he’d asked me a question and was expecting an answer from me. I went, ‘Sorry, what did you say?’

And he looked straight into my eyes, symbolling a cigar in his hand ‘Do you smoke?’

‘Yes! A few times when I was away working in prison. It was quite a necessary asset, and I was very cautious doing it.’

‘You do realize that there’s no safe way to smoke Boma.’ The Doctor cut my mum short as she was about to unleash all – well at least a good amount of her disappointment, using her fist right into my face.

‘Well, I mostly vaped and smoked weed the other times. Not your regular lung claiming cigarettes. That was cautious I believe. You have no idea what it took from me working there at the age of 22. I have never been so closely involved in violence.’ I replied with my hands up in the air, going really bold with my self-defense.

My mother just looked at me dead on. Clearly raging and thinking of a million ways she could kill me possibly.

Doctor Mac let out a deep sigh, one hand on his chin, looking at me with all the pity in the world ‘Well, I’m not going to judge your actions or lecture you about smoking or your life’s choices. You have clearly done what you needed to do to survive that phase of your life.’ He said, nodding in approval of his assessment just now.

‘Did you get a fit note before commencing work in prison? Did you get cleared mentally to work there?’ He was flipping his notes and I was starting to journey away in my mind. He tapped his note hard with his pen, and I was back in the room. ‘Did you get cleared?’

‘I did, absolutely. I am on top of my mental health. Working in prison didn’t even break me a bit. I’m rock solid with my emotions.’ I replied, now taking a fancy at this painting Mac had on the wall behind him.

‘Nah Boma, I highly doubt that. Who cleared you? I’ll get that checked. As a matter of fact, I’m not having this conversation with you. Just name the Doctor that cleared you and we can reschedule this session.

Boma’s mum had left the room to catch a breather because I, according to her was severely mentally unwell and she wasn’t having it.

‘I did some tests online and spoke to one of those professionals online.’

‘You do realize you did try to set an entire prison unit on fire Boma? You can’t go on about being indifferent while 3 persons are in hospital with severe burns. You are clearly not okay, as much it saddens me to say this to you. You need help.’ Mac was getting upset with my attitude clearly, and I was too sick to care.

Boma’s mother never came back. Mac was wanting some lunch and asked if I cared for anything and I nodded in affirmation. ‘Typical of her to leave me when I’m helpless. She says I’m the worst thing that happened to her. She’s pretty sure I’m a mistake she’ll regret all her life. I wonder why she still bothers to show up. I’ve been fine without her. She’s got her other kids that make her proud, why does she bother with me? Now she thinks I’m hopeless cause I’ve had a few puffs.’

‘A few puffs?’ Mac nearly bit his tongue trying to respond to me, but I kept cutting him short.

I laughed at the irony of what I’d just said. Before Mac could react, lunch had arrived. Mac was quite the type to eat in silence and soon enough, we were done with our lunch.

‘So why did you set the unit on fire Boma? What were you hoping to achieve?’

‘Mac, I did not set the unit on fire. I skipped, left my curlers plugged on and I let my candles burn out.’

‘Then you shut the door, refusing the inmates to leave the building, why??’

‘They said they wanted to die. This was an easy way out for them. I was doing them a solid favor here Mac.’

‘So, I got the report from the psychiatrist in the unit who ran some tests on you when you were barely 6 months there. There were clear symptoms of bipolar disorder, anxiety, and depression.’

‘That is a fault of Boma’s mother.’ I cut mark shut as I was getting agitated hearing him tell me that I had mental problems. He was indirectly telling me that I was nuts and out of my mind. How dare he???

Mac caught a breather and continued, ‘You were put under close observation and some antidepressants as you seemed to be coping well. Then you started smoking and boom! Here we are.’

I started weeping profusely, ‘Boma’s mother is the reason I’m what I am. I am a good person, but she made me believe I’m not. I’m just trying to prove myself. Those inmates really wanted to die, and I felt like I was helping them out. I felt I was just being a good person. Leaving my curlers plugged in and let my candle burn out is a simple mistake that any normal human being can make. Why does everyone try to make me feel abnormal and out of place? I should have let myself die in that fire. This world is so unfair.’

‘That’s not the direction this session is headed Boma. Stop that right now.’

‘Everyone smokes, but when I do it’s a problem. Everyone makes mistakes, but when I do it causes chaos. Everyone helps other people out, but when I do it’s attempted murder.’

‘You’re lucky that there was an initial report was made on your mental state. You’d have been looking at a life sentence or so. I need you to understand that we only want to help you and we do not see you as a nuisance or abnormal person. You just need to accept that you struggle sometimes with your behavior and that’s okay Boma. We just want to support you to be the best version of yourself, and I know that you’re indeed an amazing person.’ Mac handed me a box of tissue and gave me a pat on my back.

 

To be continued……..