Some years ago, a group of friends and I were invited to a marriage celebration. Immediately after we attended, we each received an anonymous phone call informing us that we had been poisoned by mistake. We were not the planned target; the placement of the guests had been switched around at the very last moment, and we had taken the table—and eaten the food—of the intended victims. Poisoning is unfortunately not an uncommon practice in my country. Celebrations are sometimes the place where rival families attempt to settle enmities. The phone call was meant to warn us to take all necessary measures to prevent the worst, since the poison was intended to be strong enough to kill.
I had the divine right to health.
I was quite scared. I immediately began to show symptoms of poisoning, and they were alarming. My friends and family became worried, and some people close to me suggested that I take medicines or go to the hospital right away.
