Separating conjoined twins has always been one of the most formidable challenges in surgery. When twins are joined at the head and share vital blood vessels, the complexity becomes almost unimaginable, and any attempt to separate them can place both lives in grave jeopardy.
The Binder twins of Germany, then West Germany, Patrick and Benjamin, were given such a chance in 1987. Conjoined at the head and sharing a major blood vessel, they presented their surgeons with a problem that was, at the time, largely uncharted territory. The doctors could not guarantee that either boy would survive the procedure, let alone emerge from it without serious neurological damage. After five months of intensive preparation, including simulated procedures carried out on mannequins, the historic operation was undertaken on 7 September 1987. It lasted an extraordinary 22 hours. Patrick and Benjamin survived, although both were left with irreversible impairments.
At the helm of this pioneering operation was a black neurosurgeon who had himself risen from the poverty of a Detroit ghetto. His name was Benjamin Carson, better known as Ben Carson.
Yet in his early school years, Benjamin was probably the last child anyone would have tipped for greatness. He was regarded as the dunce of his class, seemingly incapable of getting anything right. He and his brother, Curtis, were being raised by their divorced mother, Sonia. Although Sonia had received little formal education herself, she was fiercely determined that her two sons should be given every opportunity to realise their potential.
From the outset, Sonia understood that discipline would be indispensable if her boys were to make something of themselves. Two events in Benjamin’s life would prove particularly significant in altering the direction of his future. The first required little discipline from him, but its consequences made the second possible.
The first was the discovery that he needed glasses. Once his sight had been corrected, he could, for the first time, see clearly what was written on the classroom board. Had that simple intervention not been made, Benjamin might never have progressed far in education. It reminds me of an African boy who encountered a similar obstacle during an examination. His difficulty was not poor eyesight but his short stature: he could not see the questions written on the board. He stood up to look over another candidate’s shoulder, only for the invigilator to assume that he was cheating and expel him from the examination room. This happened in Kasungu in the early 1900s. The boy’s name was Kamuzu Mphonongo Banda.
Kamuzu was forced to adopt Plan B, one that demanded extraordinary determination: he had to travel to South Africa to continue his education. There were no coaches to South Africa in those days, and certainly no flights from Malawi to Johannesburg. Even had such conveniences existed, a poor boy from Kasungu, the son of African peasants, could never have afforded them. His only realistic option was to walk. The rest, as they say, is history.
For Ben Carson, the second life-changing event came when his mother insisted that he and Curtis drastically reduce their television viewing and devote themselves instead to serious reading. Each boy was required to read two books a week and submit a report on each to his mother. Giving up television, and even sacrificing time that would otherwise have been spent playing with other boys, demanded considerable self-discipline. At first, they found the regime painfully difficult. It took time to adjust to a life in which leisure was subordinated to books.
Reading itself is an exercise in discipline. Unlike watching a film or a video clip, reading requires the mind to perform an additional task: it must construct the images, voices and scenes that accompany the written narrative. A reader therefore has to exercise imagination as well as concentration. Becoming a proficient reader requires persistence and self-control. Reading, in other words, is not for the faint-hearted.
The results were remarkable. As Benjamin and Curtis became more disciplined, their academic performance steadily improved. Each moved from the bottom of the class towards the middle, and eventually to the very top. Curtis went on to become an engineer, while Benjamin became a distinguished neurosurgeon. Their achievements were a powerful testament to what disciplined effort can accomplish when opportunity, determination, and perseverance come together.
Their story therefore carries a lesson far beyond the operating theatre or the classroom. Talent may lie dormant for years, obscured by circumstances, poor beginnings or mistaken judgements. Sometimes a pair of spectacles, a demanding mother, or the simple habit of reading can open a door that seemed closed. Discipline does not merely restrain potential; it gives potential direction.
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