Big Problem, Simple Solution

By Eric Okeke

As I lifted the bucket to draw water out of the well in my yard, at

Okota, Lagos, Nigeria, a sharp pain tore through my lower back.
Ouch! I screamed, letting go the bucket, writhing in pains.
The pains eased after five minutes but returned four weeks later
very severe. I swallowed pain relieving tablets but the pains
refused to go.

I did not have money to see a doctor. I had been out of job for
seven straight years. My friends and associates had deserted me.
No job, no money, and living in pains.

The pains eased. That was its second coming. I thanked God. But
the pains returned few weeks later. This cycle continued for four
months. I became worried, family members became concerned.

Some of them said I should see an orthopedic surgeon. Others said

herbal treatment is cheaper, faster and better.

The pains returned, more intense. I could no longer walk without

support. Neither could I bend down and pick up an object.
One day, I sneezed. My body reacted violently as if a sledge
hammer hit my waist. I screamed and crashed on the floor, groping
blindly for help. My wife rushed out to get help.

She came back in ten minutes with a taxi and another victim of
lower back pain who offered to take me to his doctor. They
bundled me into the car and we sped off into the Lagos traffic.

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We crashed into the doctor’s emergency room shouting for help.
The doctor, a herbal medical practitioner, diagnosed my problem
and said it is spiritual attack. But he can set me free with a spiritual
bath using water mixed with herbs.

The spiritual bath started with the herbalist splashing the herbal
water all over my body, making incantations. Suddenly, strange
objects that looked like cowries and sea shells began to fall off my
body.
“What are these,” I asked in amazement. “Evil arrows shot at you
by people who want you dead,” replied the herbalist. “I can send
them back to sender, if you want.”
“Please, don’t. I am a Christian.” That was when it dawned on me
that I had gone to a herbal doctor. A shrine beside the bathroom
confirmed my fears. How could I, have gotten into this mess in my
rush for a solution? Who would believe my story?”

I completed the bath and paid the herbalist. But I did not go back.
Word came from my junior brother that I should come to Enugu,
South East, Nigeria, for treatment. I did not have money to travel
by air. The 8-hour journey by road was cheaper. But it was a
nightmare for me because the pains in my waist made it impossible
for me to sit down for that stretch of time.

The trip to Enugu, lying at the back seat of a car, was very
agonizing. The pains were unbearable. My brother was shocked
when he saw me. I was looking gaunt and distressed. My mother
wept uncontrollably saying “they have killed my first son.”
Calming her down was another challenge.
To the hospital. My siblings struggled to bundle me into the
waiting car. Getting me into the doctor’s consulting room was a
bigger struggle. After diagnosis, the surgeon suspected slip disc, a
medical term for dislocation in lumbar sacral region of the lower
back. He recommended an X-ray. He tried to explain, but I was too

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numbed by pains to understand. I exited the consulting room in a
wheel chair.

The X-Ray report confirmed the surgeon’s diagnosis. His therapy

was lying on a hospital bed with hard surface, for 21 days, with
weights hanging on my legs. That would push the disc back to its
normal position.
But I had wait for a bed to be vacant because they were all
occupied by patients. The surgeon gave me some pain killers,
asked me to go home. But the pains were unbearable. Three days
later, we called the hospital, no vacant bed.
Managing me was becoming more difficult. I developed temper
tantrums which sent my mom’s blood pressure up.
“When can I get a bed?” I moaned in pain.
“Have faith in God,” said my junior brother. “You may end up not
taking that hospital bed.” I did not believe him.
My junior sister soon heard about a traditional bone healer who
could handle my case. We went in search of her with the aid of an
escort, to a remote village outside the city.

“That’s the woman,” she pointed. I saw a village woman clad in a

flowing cloth tied around her breast, chest bare, picking ripe palm
fruits from the bunch at her feet.
I walked with difficulty towards her, aided by a walking stick. She
saw us coming, her face expressionless.
She ushered us into a narrow room with a wooden bench and a
thin-layered 4 x 6 feet mattress on the floor. She looked at me and
spoke with authority.
“Remove your shirt.” I did.
“Lie down.” I collapsed on the mattress.
“What happened?”
“I was lifting a bucket of water,” I said feebly, and as I was….
She cut me short with a wave of her right hand. She said a short
prayer and ordered me to lie face down on the mattress and stretch

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arms forward. She stepped forward, knelt down, resting her right
knee on my neck.
Then she started to massage. She pressed on her full weight,
working her way down my spinal column. Getting to my waist, she
did the press-on sideways. Suddenly, she sprang up, a remarkable
feat for a woman probably in her late 50s.

She ordered me to squat. Facing me, she pulled my hands sharply.

Her movements were fast and precise. For some moment, I forgot
my pains and admired her agility and skill.
Then she sprang to my back. Pressing her right knee against my
back; she jerked back my right and left shoulders in quirk bursts.
She twisted my head sharply. The she stood up and ordered me to
bend down and pick up an object. I hesitated. She encouraged me.
To my amazement, I did it. All through my painful trauma, I could
not bend.
She took one last look at me and said, “That’s all. You are okay
now. When you go home; take pain relieving tablets because the
pain will linger for sometime.”
“Is that all?” I asked in amazement.
“Yes, that’s all.”
“And what is your fee?” I asked.
“Just give me any amount you like.”
“Please can you teach me this skill?” I asked. She smiled, the first
time she betrayed any emotions since we met her.
“No I can’t,” she replied. “It is a gift from God. I started using it to
heal bones since I was 7. That is why I do not charge money. I
only take free will offerings.”
We gave all we had, far below what the orthopedic surgeon
charged. We thanked her profusely and left.

This woman, in 15 minutes put me through a massage that

corrected my slip disc; a drug-free pain management therapy that
offered a simple solution for a big problem. Her skill, agility and
simplicity humbled us.

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Eric Okeke is a brand storyteller, author, editor, business writer and media
consultant who is using brand storytelling to improve business returns in
Nigeria. You can reach him on ericosamba@yahoo.com,
ericokeke@gmail.com Tel. +234 803 301 4609