Left crutch forward, deep breath, right foot advance. Restore balance. Right crutch forward, another breath, left foot advance. Breathe deeply and repeat. After another gruelling session of upper arm strength building Alex is finally being introduced to his new crutches. Mr Abdelgadir takes delight in playacting the role of cripple, as he demonstrates a succession of techniques. A week or so of this four-stage cycle and a patient could normally expect to move on to the simpler left crutch and right foot together, right crutch and left foot together – a move that takes more strength but gains substantial speed and stability. Another week, and he should be ready to tackle left crutch forward, right crutch forward, drag both legs up to the crutches. And finally, the ultimate goal: both crutches forward, take the full weight and swing the legs through, a move that Abdelgadir particularly enjoys showing off.
“From today, we shall be friends,” he says, heaving himself gleefully around. “My name is Malik and you I think are Alex. In front of them I shall of course continue to call you Mr George.”
He stops and advances on his patient with the sticks. “Now, Mr Alex, I have some news for you! The doctors have agreed for you to be released from here on Monday. So, now we must work three times as hard to get you fit.”
The huge smile spreading across his face in no way seems at odds with the stern instruction that promptly follows. “Stand up!!” he yells, steering the chair into position beneath a steel crossbar.
“You are like me,” he declares. Faced with the Herculean challenge of raising his arms, never mind of lifting his whole bodyweight from the seat, Alex can see precious little that makes them alike. “We are both preparing ourselves for going home.” Then the thunderous laugh. “For you it is easy, and will only take two days. For me it is to be six months!”
Six months, he goes on to explain, to gain the qualifications needed to return to the Sudan, armed with the right experience to make a meaningful contribution there. His face turns from childish excitement to sadness so softly that Alex almost misses it.
“In my home town of Juba we have many parasitic diseases. Bilharzias and sleeping sickness. And there is much to do in raising awareness of health issues, sanitation, getting people to drink only the water that is safe.” He stays a moment with a memory before adding, “And too many of my friends there have died of AIDS, Mr George.” Then the dazzling smile is bursting through again and he is talking of love. His parents have been arranging his marriage – to a second cousin he’s met only the once, a few years ago, and hardly remembers. They assure him that she is well matched and a hard worker. But the girl’s own parents are insisting that they cannot be wed until Abdelgadir has secured an honourable wage and a respectable position. Suddenly he is laughing again.
“Alex and Malik. Malik and Alex. We sound like brothers, no? You must come to the wedding! A fine celebration it is going to be, lasting many days. I tell you, Mr Alex, by then you will be truly on your feet. On your feet, do you hear it! Running and jumping about, thanks to me. You will dance at the marriage of Malik Abdelgadir and his beautiful bride, yes? But enough of my talking. Why are you still sitting there? Lazy man! To work!”
The support is suddenly being pulled from beneath him. He must either take his own weight or fall gracelessly to the floor. For an instant, he’s able to suspend himself in mid-air, just long enough for his rescuer to come along broadside, scoop him up from under the shoulders and strap a crutch to each wrist. Alex clenches his teeth and braces his arms.