Ahmed

By Alex P. Vidal 

“In faith there is enough light for those who want to believe and enough shadows to blind those who don’t.” —Blaise Pascal

THIS year’s Ramadan, the ninth month in the Islamic (Hijri) calendar and one of the holiest periods of worship for Muslims, was already on the 9^th day on March 9 when the month-long Home Health Aide (HHA) training program, facilitated by the Sunnyside Home Care Project, Inc., blasted off at the Sunnyside Community Services, Inc. in Long Island City, Queens.

Nineteen trainees, or healthcare workers, have been plucked out from New York City’s different boroughs to buttress the modest class held on the second floor of the imposing Center Boulevard, one of the most modern complexes at the Hunters Point South’s scenic waterfront.

One of them was Ahmed, a young tight-lipped and tranquil Muslim faithful from India.

Seventeen trainees made it in time for the opening of class at 9 o’clock in the morning; they were subsequently asked by bilingual instructor Jorge Gomez to introduce themselves, say something about them, where they came from, and “why are you here?”

The effervescent trainees, culled from hundreds of aspiring HHA applicants all over New York who wanted to avail the tuition-less training program, represented different cultures and ethnicity from Egypt, Nepal, Jamaica, Haiti, Mexico, India, Tibet, United States, Guyana, Philippines.

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Two trainees were missing during the opening salvo on March 9: Joanna, who arrived in the middle of the day, and Ahmed, who reported at past 10 o’clock in the morning.

As soon as Ahmed occupied a seat in the front row, Mr. Gomez, bespectacled and clad in white clinical instructor’s uniform, buttonholed him, “Everyone has introduced themselves before you arrived. Please, tell us something about you and why are you here.”

“My name is Ahmed…ahh I’m from India and I’m an engineer,” the Johnny-come-lately retorted in a croaky but firm voice.

“Why are you here? Or what made you decide to take the HHA training?” Mr. Gomez bubbled over.

“I’m here because I want to have a job,” replied the tenderfoot, unraveling a wisp of glare toward the 18 other warm bodies, all dolled up in white scrubs, behind him.

The much-ballyhooed “I want to have a job” line had become a catchphrase or rallying point, a shibboleth Mr. Gomez rekindled and zeroed in on the training session’s final day on April 2.

“I admire your frankness,” Mr. Gomez waxed lyrical without referring to anyone on April 2. “But that’s not enough.” HHAs must love their clients first and foremost and must possess some iota of compassion and dedication, emphasized the American-Colombian training instructor, a veteran nurse practitioner in New York and Florida.

If there was one peculiar thing about Ahmed that made him instantly a cut above the rest, it was his penchant of avoiding any eye contact and nixing any straightforward conversation with his seat mates like Phobos and Deimos, the gods of fear in the Greek Mythology, who personified the emotions of panic and dread respectively.

A dyed-in-the-wool Muslim faithful, Ahmed’s reticence and stillness easily caught the attention and chagrin of fellow trainees in the class who had grown suspicious of the implied “bizarre” persona.

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Ahmed spurned any offer to take a bread or candy and blankly stared at those attempting to strike a light conversation with him.

“He is really shy,” observed Amna, a gregarious fellow trainee who made it a habit to greet Ahmed “good morning” as soon as she spotted him walk inside the classroom.

“Ahmed, come here, (and) join us,” Lakhni otherwise know as “Sue”, badgered the sedate Ahmed, who elected to sit alone in one corner while his colleagues were having a tete-a-tete during break time.

During the skills training, Gloria Caballero, Mr. Gomez’s stony-faced regular assistant, ribbed the demure Ahmed, 21, for being “slow” and “timid” in occupied bed making.

Mr. Gomez’s weekly assistant, Carlos Meza-Alvarez mistakenly called him “Akme” and sometimes “Akmed” while patiently helping Ahmed rev up and underscore the nitty-gritty of Hoyer lift.

In truth and in fact, Ahmed, probably the youngest in the team, was neither slow nor timid. He seemed mentally and visibly alert.

And Ahmed knew how to maneuver the Hoyer lift, otherwise known as mechanical lift or patient lift and patient hoist, a device used to safely transfer individuals with limited mobility between different surfaces, when no one was pestering him.

Ahmed was also arguably one of the highest performers in all of the 25 written exams. He’s not a chaff to be separated from the grain vice versa; Ahmed seemingly has multiple hidden talents and was unassuming.

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“The reason why Ahmed is so shy is because he is young,” gushed Mr. Gomez. “But he must overcome it because in HHA, you need to interact actively with your clients. You have to be proactive.”

The mystery behind Ahmed’s inflexibility and tacit recalcitrance was finally unraveled third week of the training program after confessing he was on a month-long fasting from dawn until sunset, abstaining from food, drink, and even sexual relations.

Colleagues in the training program, as well as members of the training staff, may have realized the Ahmed enigma that hounded the doubting Thomases for weeks was ultimately laid to rest realizing he was soft-spoken and a gentleman who ostensibly only wanted to practice his faith fundamental to a Muslim’s life and guide his daily actions and beliefs.

Religious faith is also in consonance with the Sunnyside Community Services’ visions of diverse, inclusive, and caring of communities where all people thrive and reach their fullest potential.

Ahmed’s fellow Muslims, meanwhile, also increased their prayer, studied the Quran, and engaged in acts of charity. They additionally gathered for special night prayers called Tarawih and celebrated Eid al-Fitr at the end of the month of March.

(The author, who is now based in New York City, used to be the editor of two leading daily newspapers in Iloilo, Philippines.—Ed)