The Story Of Sara
Chapter 7: GETTING A JOB AS A PSYCHIATRIST
At around this time, I realized, that I was living with Sanji and I still wasn't working, and so, that dear soul was having to work overtime in order to take care of me.
I swear Sanji never complained; not even a ****** hint – but, I to my embarrassment, I realized this fact!
"Sanji I just want to tell you I'm so sorry for not working; I just want to,"
"Don't worry, Sara; you've been under stress and so I can understand. You've needed time to emotionally recuperate from the traumas of the recent past."
"Yes, but stress or no stress, it's high time to work again. Don't forget, Sanji, I've got a psychiatry degree?!"
"And, work will do you good. It will be a good source of distraction. Get your minds off this whole subject of the party, guilt, Omar and God knows what else!"
"You're absolutely right, Sanji. Tomorrow, I'll be looking for any vacancies.
I felt happy; I felt that finally I was going to be useful again.
After all those years working for the party and feeling that I was being 'useful' and then discovering to my horror that I had been of absolutely no 'use', now I can say that I shall be useful to society.
I will be respectable again.
I will have a sense of direction in my life.
A clear sense of where I'm going with my life, rather than just drifting like a jellyfish in the ocean.
Sure enough, the next day I set off for the job centre, and applied for any vacancies for a psychiatry post.
Within days, I received an offer for an interview at my local hospital.
I was to be interviewed by Dr. Tajim, who was the Head of the Psychiatric Department at my local hospital.
I went to the department, and there I met Dr. Tajim who was to interview me.
Obviously, I was tense.
"Good morning; how are you Ms. Sara?" said the elderly doctor.
He looked frightening.
"Very well, thank you," I replied.
He was about sixty five; a bit overweight, and as I looked at him more closely, I pleasantly discovered that he had a really pleasant face and gently inquisitive eyes.
I totally misjudged the character of this kind man!
He wasn't at all overbearing, or stiff or cold; in fact, he was a very welcoming old gentleman, and he made you feel utterly comfortable with him, so all your nervousness simply dissipated!
I had heard that one of his own sons was suffering from depression and that he was in a hospital.
I also had heard, that that fact really affected him a lot, and, at times, it seemed to emotionally exhaust him; and, yet he would persevere and he was known to be really loving, compassionate and deadly serious in his efforts to help not only his son, but all his patients to get over their depression.
"Now, you do know what the job offer is about?" asked the soft spoken doctor.
"Yes Sir; I am to be a psychologist for patients who are in Category 'C'."
"I see, and you do know who are patients in Category 'C'?"
"Yes, Sir. They are patients with mild to severe depression."
"Good, that's correct. Do you have experience in working with depressed patients?"
I thought for a quick moment.
I couldn't lie.
"No, Dr. Tajim; I have no experience, but I wish you would give me the chance to prove myself."
"But that is rather strange. You are twenty eight years old, and you graduated age twenty one – so, the obvious question, is what were you doing in those intervening years?"
What am I supposed to do here? I needed Sanji to be with me. How can I tell Dr. Tajim that I was 'working' with so-called 'political parties''? I couldn't. He would never employ me if I told him which 'party' I had been working for. If I had worked for a decent, respectable party, then presumably, he would have had no problems with me, but working Tony and Omar?!
I had to lie.
Lie to survive!
"Dr. Tajim, during those intervening years, I worked on a voluntary basis for charities broad, helping the sick."
"I see, that's interesting; where did you work, and what exactly did you do for the sick?"
Now I had to dig the hole of lies even deeper!
What else can I do?
Tell him that I was joking and that I never really worked abroad? Of course not, that would make me a fool.
I really didn't want to lie.
But what choice did God give me?
"Yes, Sir. I worked in Uganda, in a village called Sanji", my God, of all names that came to my mind, I couldn't think of anything else except Sanji's name! "Yes, and there in that humble village, I acted as a nurse for the sick, in a really small infirmary."
"Sanji?" Dr. Tajim asked, narrowing his eyes with incredulity.
"Yes, Sir; as far as I remember, the village was called Sanji, but you know the odd thing about rural Uganda, is just how one village can have so many different names, since each tribe would have their own names, that differed from other tribes. So, you must excuse me, it was a little bit confusing."
What on earth was I talking about!
And did Dr. Tajim actually believe me?
I was insecure, because I had no idea if Dr. Taji actually believed the lies I was saying.
"I see; I ask because Sanji is not quite an African name."
"Yes, Dr. Tajim; indeed, I may be completely wrong, but, as I say, there were so many languages in Uganda, that it was really difficult to communicate with anyone."
God knows what I was saying!
I was just saying whatever came out of my mind!
"I see. Yes, there are different languages in Uganda, and indeed in the whole of sub-Saharan Africa. But, I never knew that names of towns and villages would change, and certainly, no African tribe would give an African village 'Sanji' as a name. But anyway, maybe, as you say, the name may not have been 'Sanji'. Anyway, where did you get your training as a nurse?"
Oh yes, but now I had to create another lie, in order to explain where I got my 'training' from.
I was getting deeper into this lying game.
But I couldn't now worry about the morality of that.
I had to come up, with an immediate answer to his pertinent question.
"You see, Dr. Tajim, I went as a volunteer to rural Uganda, to help build homes and help women in their daily lives, and the next thing I know, is when the local doctor asked me for help. When I informed him that I wasn't a nurse, he said he would teach me. I soon learned the basic first aid medicine that was required. I guess, that I could be useful in the hospital in that sense too."
"I see, Ms. Sara."
Finally, Dr. Tajim paused, giving me time to think of what else he may ask me about my 'time' in 'rural Uganda'.
"I see," he repeated, looking confused.
Strange I thought, but this doctor would start every sentence with 'I see'.
"So, for all those intervening years, you remained in this one village?"
"Um, why yes, Dr. Tajim. I did spend all my time in Saji. Is that so strange?"
My God, I called the non-existing village 'Saji', rather than 'Sanji'.
Would he notice?
"I see, but, I mean, as a volunteer, didn't your superiors relocate you to another village, or to another country, in all those seven or so years?"
I couldn't understand why Dr. Tajim was surprised at the time, which goes to show what a poor liar I was.
Of course, later I would learn, that volunteers to Third World countries would get stationed in not more than a year or two in any country – let alone one tiny village!
But, for that moment, I could only go on with my lies.
"Yes, Dr. Tajim. I was posted for that village all those years."
I simply stuck to my lie.
Defend your lies, or else you drown.
"I see, how strange. And now you are permanently back here?"
"I see," said Dr. Taji, looking uncomfortable.
Silence, as he turned his attention to the papers on his desk.
I felt that he was simply going to call me a complete 'liar' and to get out of his office.
"Well, I shall get in touch with you. Give me a few days to get to a decision."
"Thank you Dr. Tajim. I hope you will just give me a chance to prove to you, Sir, that I shall be really good at my job."
What a surprise!
With that, I got up and headed for the door.
"Ms. Sara!" Dr. Tajim asked.
I hope I didn't look nervous or startled.
"Yes, before I forget, do send me by email the relevant documents from your charity organisation that gives me the official notification of your time you worked for them. Like a Letter of Recommendation from them."
Yes, now I was startled.
I know the colour of my face must have turned red.
Where on earth would I be able to get any document from any charity organisation?!
I felt that I was now caught!
Was I going to be caught for lying?
"No problem, Dr. Tajim," that's what came out of my mouth. And I found myself leaving Dr. Tajim's office.
As soon as I was a safe distance from the hospital, I began to think once more: how can I forge documents that are supposed to be from a charity organisation? And, even if I did forge them with some expert computer person, wouldn't Dr. Tajim simply call the telephone number of the charity organisation and enquire about me, and then he would obviously be told that I had never worked for them, let alone having me fly off to Uganda?!
Back at home, I sat down, and realized there was no exit.
I lied and so now I must take the risk that Dr. Tajim simply would not call the charity organisation.
I would choose one of the biggest organizations who would have hundreds of thousands of volunteers, and even if he did check, I could say that their computers get it wrong! They didn't register my name because they have so many volunteers!
But, no, that's stupid of me.
If I supposedly worked for seven years for one organization, then they would obviously have my name in their computer files.
I was being stupid.
No, that's it.
I lied and so I must take the consequences.
I would risk it.
Well, I did forge a charity organization letterhead, and I wrote that I did 'serve' for seven years in rural Uganda.
Next, I scanned the document, and had it sent by email to Dr. Tajim.
To my complete surprise, within a few days, I got an official letter from Dr. Tajim's secretary, saying that I was accepted by the psychiatric unit in the hospital!
I was so thrilled, that to be honest, I couldn't in the least be bothered about my lies!
I was now going to be a useful member of society!
I was going to be a worthy, decent, respectable person!
As I got to work in the Psychiatric Department in the hospital, they began almost secretarial tasks to do. I would get 'introduced' to the depressed patients and, gradually, I was allowed more and more time to talk to the patients.
I was really happy and pleased with myself, because I felt that I was, at last a 'respectable' person.
For the first time since I had left, or rather since I was expelled from the party, I felt proud of myself; and perhaps, most importantly to me, was the feeling that I knew where my life was going.
I would walk anywhere and, when asked, what I did for a living, I proudly reply that I was a doctor in the Psychiatric Department in our local hospital.
It was at this time that I was watching television in Sanji's apartment, when the latter walked in and said:
"You are not going to believe who is with me!"
"Judging from the excitement on your face, it must be someone very important." I replied casually.
"Yes, yes; so guess who?" asked Sanji.
"Oh God, Sanji how am I to know? The Prime Minister perhaps?" I answered sarcastically.
The next thing I know was that none other than Tony walked in!
My goodness me! I was absolutely shocked and awed by his presence!
What was Tony doing here?!
This was the first time I had seen him since I left his party and joined Omar's party.
And, I guess, he must have just left prison, because, it had been about one year, since I heard that he was prosecuted by our courts.
He had changed a little bit.
He was much fatter – which, I thought was a bit odd, since he had been in prison, and I thought that everyone in prison gets to lose weight!
He looked older than his years. He had dark rings below his eyes, and for the first time in my life, I was really surprised, to find out, that he looked utterly dull, weary and tired.
He seemed to have lost all that will power, charisma and charm.
They were no longer part of his personality.
"What are you doing here?" I managed to ask Tony.
"And why not? Why shouldn't I be here?" he answered smartly.
I got confused all over again.
After all, what had happened to him since our entire movement collapsed?
I never thought about what happened to Tony, or Omar for that matter.
Selfishly, I just thought about myself.
That was typical of me.
"You look dazed, Sara," said Tony laughing. "Is my appearance that shocking to you?!" He joked.
"No, not at all." I regained my composure, or at least, I tried to regain my composure. "It's just that, I never did understand, or know, what really happened to our movement? And what happened to you Tony?"
"Sara is confused about the entire movement." Sanji said to Tony.
"Well, what happened is actually quite simple," said Tony, "the new government decided to take legal action against us for the first time. Previously, every government never even took us seriously enough to warrant a concerted attack to eliminate us. To them, we were just clowns."
I was shocked.
"Clowns? What do you mean Tony? What do you mean previous governments did not take us seriously? Of course they took us seriously; Tony, we were in a state of war, remember? What's happened to your memory? We were fighting battle after,"
"Let me interrupt you, Sara; but you are so utterly naïve and blind that I just do not know how to face you with the facts."
What do you mean? What are you talking about?" I asked frantically.
Suddenly all those memories from the party days returned to me; for the moment I completely forgot that I was a doctor at the Psychiatric Unit; Tony had re-opened all my memories, anxieties and unanswered questions concerning those years.
"Relax Sara, don't let your emotions take over your rational mind," Sanji said. "That's always been your problem. You simply allow your wildest emotions to highjack the rational part of your mind. I mean, you're supposed to be a psychiatrist and yet, you are so utterly impulsive in your thinking and in the actions you take."
I knew Sanji was completely right. He was so rational and calm.
"What 'battles' are you talking about Sara?" asked a perplexed Tony.
Sanji laughed. "That's a good question Tony, go on, and ask her that one!"
Tony joined Sanji laughing.