Who is Taki?​

Takalani (Taki) (25) For the full-of-life Takalani, nursing has always been her calling. She is a vibrant, energetic young lady who’s infectious laugh can make any bad situation feel a little bit brighter. She is loved by all her collegues and patients. Although she has never done a hiking trail, she enjoys taking long walks in her spare time.

The healer of scars can also be scarred

By Zwothe Thothori

“Yay, it’s my turn!” Takalani exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air and laughing. Although her voice contained a hint of sarcasm, the other hikers joined in her laughter because it was so infectious.

Despite the spider incident, they all looked for comfortable rocks to sit on.

“Right,” Taki said, making sure she had their attention, “I did not grow up in a wealthy family, yet I was a quite a goal-oriented individual. I was also very generous and always willing to help others. I still wonder from wh

m I inherited this trait because my family were pretty close-fisted. Despite this, I was fortunate enough to be sent to an expensive school.”
“But didn’t you just say you came from a financially disadvantaged background?” Adrian asked.

“I did, yes. But because I always aimed at getting the best grades, I was offered a scholarship, which paid for my high-school and college fees. Before I went to this fancy high school and moved into their hostel, I was quite a complex young girl to understand. I used to love role-playing games with my friends. This role playing continued at my new school, but my friends were now all from rich families,” Taki continued.
“Most of the time these games revolved around our future - our careers, what cars we would be driving and the houses we would be living in. We would dress up according to different professions – a pilot, an engineer or a surgeon. I wore very simple clothes. My white school shirt, my casual white tracksuit pants and my mother’s only (almost completely torn) black heels. I had to sneak these out of her closet, and she was not remotely impressed when she found out the shoes were gone.”

“Oh my word!” Lisa said, giggling. “What job or profession were you dressing up for?”

“That was my friends’ exact response the first time we played dress-up. They said I looked like a lost student,” she laughed. “Anyways, I was dressing up as a nurse, of course. I pasted a piece of paper over the emblem on my school shirt’s pocket, with ‘Nurse Takalani’ written on it. My friends always had all the right props for their ‘costumes’. Thick files, stethoscopes and laptop computers. I had a dirty, torn notebook with a Bic pen.” Despite her words, the others could clearly see her refusal to be intimidated.

“One day, I went to visit an old-age home, dressed up in my play-nurse outfit. When I got there, a lady doctor was giving the residents check-ups. She told me to be careful not to say anything negative to them as they had not been very cheerful lately. I really wanted to make them feel happy again, so I made up some random jokes, which they didn’t find funny at all. What they did find funny, though, was my laugh. I went back to visit this old-age home three more times and then, on the last visit, the doctor informed me privately that they had observed an interesting trend. The anti-depressants the old folks were given had no visible effect, but my presence seemingly had. On the days I visited, the dopamine levels – the happy hormones - in the patients somehow increased greatly. She said she suspected this was because of the jokes I shared and my infectious laugh.”

“Wow! That’s incredible.” Lisa seemed amazed by this.

“I know, right? It is amazing. To test the doctor’s theory, she asked me to visit three other old-age homes and share the same jokes and laughter with the ones experiencing depression. Almost like a study or experiment … A month later, she informed me that the exact same results were produced - their dopamine levels had also increased! I felt that my laugh was powerful. I somehow served as an ointment for the emotional scars of the old people!”

Taki stood up from her seat and started moving around energetically. “When I told my mother about this and my dream of becoming a nurse, she said: ‘Are you crazy? Going to a luxurious school just to become a nurse? You want to earn peanuts for a living?’ Those words broke my heart. I did not care about the money but about my passion and calling to be a nurse. Despite my mother’s words, I went on to study nursing at a college and then became a qualified junior nurse later at a hospital in my community,” she said, the same determination back on her face.
“One day, the doctors and nurses at the hospital arranged a small party to celebrate an increase in our salaries. At the time, three women in the ward I was on were about to give birth, but none of my colleagues seemed concerned about this. I tried talking some of the nurses and doctors into staying behind, so we could help the women when the time came for them to give birth, but none of them was willing to sacrifice their moment of celebration for the sake of these patients.”

“Yoh, that is not nice,” Lee said, looking bemused.

“I know. I was the only one left in the ward. All three women’s contractions were now becoming stronger at the same time. Three women, and only one of me! As I was still a junior nurse, I was not qualified yet to help deliver babies. This was a job for the obstetricians. Luckily, I had learnt the procedure well while assisting before, so I helped the first woman give birth. I asked one of the cleaning ladies to attend to the other two patients by helping them with breathing exercises. Immediately after I was done with the first one, I sprinted over to the second one. All went well there too, but the third woman, named Cary, unfortunately had a stillbirth. Her baby ran out of oxygen while I was helping the other women. It broke Cary’s heart. Mine too, and nothing I did could bring her baby back to life,” Taki said despairingly, all traces of laughter now gone.

“At the end of the staff’s little celebration party, my colleagues resumed their posts. At the same time, the head of the hospital also entered the ward. Both my colleagues and he had heard what had happened from the cleaning lady. I thought they would congratulate me on what I had done. Instead, an uncomfortable silence hung over the ward

. One of the doctors told the mother that nobody could have done anything, that the baby would have died because of a heart defect,”
“But that’s not true! They had neglected their duties and left you to try and do the impossible,” said Lee, totally outraged.“No

-one talked about it. I was soon promoted to being a senior nurse and given more responsibility. I suddenly became part of the ‘senior group’ who had to take collective responsibility for what was happening in the hospital. I was wracked with self-blame and hurt, and I considered resigning as a nurse,” said Taki and paused for a while. A dark cloud seemed to cover the sparkle in her eyes, but only for a moment.

“For the next couple of weeks, I mulled over my future, but I continued working. The two women with their babies were discharged, and one of them later came to me and said she had named her daughter ‘Taki’, in appreciation of what I did. Even the lady who lost her baby thanked me for what I had tried to do. I realised that my presence and my laughter had been better ointment than some medicines. I heal scars, but in the process, I often get scarred. It’s the price I must pay.” Pain and resignation warred on her face.

“To try and heal my own scars, I started hiking. I found my own medicine in nature, among like-minded people. Mountains such as this one rekindle the fire in me and put the sparkle back in my laughter,” said Taki, the smile back on her face.