My Father's Gift by Sixtus Z Atabong Book Tour and Giveaway :)
My Father's Gift
by
Sixtus Z. Atabong
Genre:
Memoir
“Sixtus’s
father had only one request of Sixtus—‘give back.’ And give
back he did.” —Edward
C. Benzel, MD, emeritus chairman of Neurosurgery, Cleveland Clinic
Born
into a poor West African family in the disease-stricken town of
Fontem, John N. Atabong embarked into the unknown in search of
hope. He
was eleven, but he triumphed against all odds to give his children
the best care and education available. Eventually, he sacrificed his
most valuable possession, his son Sixtus, sending him to study in the
United States with nothing more than lessons learned from his days
working the farms and his father’s basic biblical teachings. Sixtus
Atabong's journey of temptations and challenges in the US gives rise
to a mission: to give back. He uses his gift to extend God’s
healing hands and unfailing love to the far corners of the earth
through sustainable health care infrastructures. Fulfilling his
father’s dream, Sixtus hopes that he too can leave the world a
better place than he found it.
IN
THOSE DAYS, IT was not unusual for a family to have more than five
children. The reasons were three-fold. First, families never knew
which child would survive to adulthood. Secondly,
more children also meant more farm hands, increased productivity and
profit for the whole family. Lastly, as parents grew old, the role of
caretaker went to the children. More children meant that role could
be distributed among many instead of a few. However, the popular
expectation at that time was that girls would marry into a different
family, so only the boys would inherit and foster their family name
and legacy. Even with all his success, Dad still felt all his hard
work would be in vain if he
did not have a son to carry on his legacy. The superstition in rural
villages was that a prosperous farmer without a son must have made a
deal with the dark powers—his sons in exchange for wealth. My
father did not want that taint. Though
Dad knew there was a God, he didn’t know much about Christianity.
He had been introduced to the faith by Catholic and Protestant
evangelists, but always brushed them off and would advise them to get
a real farm job and stop extorting people. He had been to the
Catholic Church several times, usually during celebrations, but he
still had doubts about the existence of the one God. He admitted that
sometimes he would contemplate the beauty of his surroundings, and
its relation to his existence. The one thing he was certain of was
that hard work led to success. It
was a cloudy day in July 1974 when he had his first communion with
God. It was the season for insect control. At the break of dawn, he
made it out to his cocoa farm with his insecticide supplies. The crew
worked for hours on end and stopped for a break only if it rained,
because the rain would wash away
the chemicals immediately. They strapped on their back a ten-gallon
tank of water mixed with insecticides, with the pump on the left hand
and sprayer on the right. Rainwater in barrels throughout
the farm was used to remix and refill whenever the workers ran out of
chemicals. They would repeat the drill several times throughout the
day for up to three months, and would only stop for harvesting
season. On
this fateful day, the rain poured. Dad couldn’t make it back to the
farmhouse, so he found shelter beneath a tree. He took a short nap
and dreamed that Mom was pregnant with a boy. He awoke and envisioned
life with a son he could go to the farm with. He thought,
If this God does exist, he should know my heart’s desires and give
me a son. He went down on his knees, raised his arms up to
the sky and made a deal with God—since
I have no enemies and I’ve taken care of many, and I’ve worked
hard all my life, you should bless me with a son. He went
home and told my mother of his promise to God, asking her to help him
keep this covenant should they be blessed with a son. Good
news came three months later. Mom was carrying another baby. But
would this be the long-awaited boy my father had asked for? There
were no ultrasounds or laboratory tests to tell, so everyone had to
wait nine months to find out. With
the rumors in town that father was not capable of having a son, he
decided to make a very friendly bet with the village chief, who at
this time was his very good friend. Because all of father’s farms
were far from the house, he had always wanted a farm closer for my
mother and the girls to plant noncash crops for home consumption.
However, the properties around the village were forbidden land,
reserved for the chief and his family. So the chief entered a verbal
agreement with my father:
if my mother gave birth to a male child, he would give my father a
piece of farmland close to the village. In return, Dad would name his
son after the chief. With
every passing day for six months, Dad performed nightly prayers with
the family. He bought a four-pound King James Bible and asked his
children and strangers to read it to him. He wasn’t afraid to show
his newfound friendship with God by buying the biggest Bible he could
find. In
those days, most women delivered children at home, and only those who
could afford it travelled to the closest government hospital. Since
it was impossible for a pregnant woman to know her delivery date, she
and a family member would travel to the hospital vicinity and find a
home to live in near a hospital. This period of uncertainty sometimes
lasted for weeks or even months, especially for first pregnancies. Dad
had decided that this child, like the previous five, would be
delivered at Mount Mary Hospital in Buea, the provincial capital of
this region in Cameroon. This was a Catholic mission hospital about
thirty miles away. It served wealthier government officials and was
run by European missionary physicians. Mom went ahead and Dad planned
to follow to Buea three weeks before delivery. They stayed with a
distant relative a few blocks from the hospital. On
the day of delivery, my father sat outside the delivery room and
waited. After delivery, a nurse came out to notify him of the birth.
He gave thanks to God. Mom asked her if she had told him the sex of
the child, and the nurse responded that she hadn’t. “My
pikin, e get five girl pikin dem and e don di wait for boy
pikin. Abeg go tell yi say na boy pikin,” Mother
explained to her that her husband has five girls and is very anxious
to find out the sex. She asked the nurse to go back outside and tell
him that it’s a boy. The nurse went back outside and asked my dad
why he didn’t inquire about the sex of the baby. Dad responded that
he was too anxious to find out. The nurse then announced to him that
he was the father of a baby boy. Dad
took off in a state of elation. He gathered some friends and
passersby in Buea and a nearby town of Muyuka to celebrate with him.
It would take him about twenty-four hours, and on April 1st
he made it back to Munyenge. He proudly announced my birth,
the birth of his first son, as he entered the village. They all
thought it must have been an April Fool’s Day joke. As it was
customary during this time, because of the high infant mortality
rate, newborns were kept in the hospital for weeks, even months. My
dad was asked by one of his brothers how the baby was doing, and he
replied that he was so overjoyed and eager to share the news that he
forgot to see the baby. It was also not unusual for men to go days
before seeing their wives and new babies. It would be another three
days before a delegation from the village accompanied father to come
for me. Mom
and Dad went on to have three more girls and another boy. They were
also blessed with numerous adopted children. Their faith in God would
grow with children, and Dad’s dedication to impact his surrounding
would also grow. Together they worked hard to keep his covenant with
God.
Sixtus Z. Atabong, PA-C, President and Founder of Purpose Medical Mission (PMM) is a neurosurgery Physician Assistant. PMM is a nonprofit organization focusing on developing sustainable healthcare infrastructure and services in developing countries. It has helped build clinics and hospitals in Cameroon, The Democratic Republic of Congo, Nicaragua, and Guatemala. Sixtus believes in empowering communities with the knowledge and tools to address the global threat of health disparity and lack of basic education.
Sixtus
is the recipient of numerous local and national awards for his
leadership and humanitarian work, including the Texas Tech University
Health Sciences Center Hall of Fame Award and the American Red Cross
Humanitarian of Year Award. In 2013, he was awarded the PA Service to
the Underserved Award by the American Academy of Physician
Assistants.
Sixtus
was born and raised in a small farming village in Muyuka
Sub-division, Cameroon, West Africa. He migrated to the United States
in 1995 where he faced many challenges, but eventually obtained a
Bachelor of Science degree in Clinical Laboratory Sciences and a
Master of Science in Physician Assistant Studies. He uses his life
experiences and voice to motivate individuals on attaining their
God-given purpose. He speaks on issues such as, living a purposeful
life, realizing your American dream, financial independence, and
racial relations.
Sixtus'
goals in life have been achieved through faith and
self-determination. He enjoys traveling the world with his family and
learning about different cultures. He lives in Lubbock, Texas, with
his wife, Kyu Mee, and their two sons.
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