The words called out from the back of the truck burned into my brain and cut into my heart:
“I don’t think he is breathing.”
BletJhaw stopped the truck and I jumped out and swung myself up into the bed of the truck where he lay. My hand flew to the carotid artery – nothing. I flipped open the eyelids – fixed and dilated. I checked for breathing – none. I thumped the chest – no response. This can’t be happening!
This is how it began. It is Sabbath morning. We had been woken by the sound of a loud motorbike, straining up our hill at 5 a.m. followed by persistent knocking.
“Somebody in WST had been unconscious since 3 a.m.– can you come?” …Was the message.
It didn’t take us long to grab the essentials and get to the house where we found the man in a deep level of unconsciousness. His blood pressure was good, but respirations seemed to be shutting down. We discovered he had overdosed on Tramadol liquid the night before. The government gives it out in attempt to stop the opium habit. Five cc’s should be taken twice a day. This man had taken at least 200 cc’s all at once the night before. This explains the respirations, as Tramadol works on the brain’s concept of pain, not on the pain itself.
Strong hands carried him out to our truck in a blanket, but he died three quarters of the way to Meta hospital.
Now it is Sabbath evening and we go to the house in WST, and meet with the family and many neighbors and friends. I will do an encouraging worship for them, even though I have not had time to sit down and personally process the shocking events of the day. The men are hammering nails into a crude wooden box coffin when we arrive. The box is completed, and the body placed in it, as the people crowded into the tiny house, or settled themselves on the ground outside.
I look at the crude wooden box that surrounded the motionless, silent and precious occupant. He had made his choice. His destiny is decided. No more chances. It breaks my heart! I look at the familiar room, and the faces of family and friends that I love so much. You see we have met here week after week, doing Bible studies ever since this man tried to commit suicide by shooting into his right ear, 7 years ago! God miraculously saved his life. He stayed off opium several months, but started again. He came to us for detox shortly after that and successfully came off it at which time he and his wife were baptized. But the devil kept pushing and he was weak and returned to the opium. We continued loving him and doing the worships. He came to our church quite often – the last sermon he listened to was a powerful one entitled: “JUDAS.” But still he kept spiraling downward, speaking often about suicide. He recently stole his wife’s tithe money to buy his opium.
. . . And now here he lies – dead! His name? DuPe