THE DOUBLE BLIND (FICTION)

 

It was a hellishly hot day. The weather was dry and lacked humidity. The little breeze that blew was uncomfortable and irritating.

      Ronald looked into the unforgiving sky as he wiped the sweat off his brow. He dropped the shovel he had just used in burying the last corpse. It seemed like everybody was dying in Lagos today.

      Ronald was an undertaker. His job was to bury the dead and, it was a job he loved. Today he had buried over eighty corpses, and it had been very difficult and tedious. He was glad when his shift was over and he could relax. He knew where to go for such.

      He left the cemetery and took a quick bus ride to his favorite bar. It was a local joint that served very cold beer and very hot pepper soup.

      He was on his second bottle when a handsome-looking young man joined the table. They got into a conversation about the merits and demerits of the national football coach, and very soon, they were talking like old friends.  Football was a subject that Ronald believed he was an expert on and, because of this, he spoke in a very opinionated voice.                They spoke at length about the state of the national football team and how the foreign coach was managing it. The argument was heated but good-natured. As the evening wore on, the young man who had identified himself as Mark decided to supply the table with more chilled bottles of beer.

      After a thoroughly entertaining and enjoyable evening, Mark paid for all the drinks and invited Ronald to his house for a party. Ronald was reluctant and explained that he had to be at work early the next day. Mark prevailed on him explaining that, that day was his birthday and his friends had called him when he had gone to the restroom. They were throwing an impromptu party for him at his house. They had arranged a lot of food and drinks.

      Ronald thought of the situation, but the idea of more free food and drinks persuaded him against his better judgment, so, he went home with Mark.

      Mark's house was somewhere in the suburbs, and it took some time to get there.

As they entered the tastefully furnished apartments, they were met by half-naked dancing girls and a lot of young men drinking and toasting the celebrant.

      It was obvious that the party had been going on for some time. Before Ronald knew what was happening a drink had been thrust into his hands and, a very delicious-looking lady had started dancing with him. She was young, sweet, and very interested in everything Ronald had to say. He was flattered, although he considered himself good-looking, this was the first time that a woman would be hitting on him so openly. 

      She told him that her name was Fiona and that she was a student at the local University. As they drank and danced the night away they became more intimate. The next thing Ronald knew was that they were on a bed in one of the bedrooms. Their clothes came off as if it was on fire and they coupled vigorously. The dance of love continued for hours. Positions were changed, variations were experimented with, forbidden practices we are indulged in.

       Fueled by hormones and alcohol they continued the dance of ecstasy for almost three hours.

      Suddenly, Ronald noticed that Fiona was no longer moving. He thought that maybe she had passed out from too much enjoyment. However, the way she lay still was a bit disconcerting. Then he took a closer look at her. He noticed the blank staring eyes and the slack mouth.

      Ronald's body went cold with dread and he lost his erection immediately. He got off the bed and shook the girl vigorously. There was no response.

      Ronald had seen enough dead bodies to know that Fiona was dead. His blood ran cold! What had happened. He was confused and he did not understand exactly what was going on. His mind ran in confused circles. Panic set in! 

      He thought of putting on his clothes and sneaking out of the party. Then he looked at the girl again and wondered if she could be helped. He knelt beside the bed and took a good look at her. After a close examination, it was obvious that she was beyond any help. She had less life in her than a piece of stone.

      He decided that the best thing he could do was sneak out of the party. After all, he had just met Mark for the first time and, it was doubtful that he would be able to trace him. All he had to do was avoid going to the bar where they had met and he would be safe. As this thought passed through his mind, he felt a tinge of guilt. He knew that he would be putting Mark in a very, very bad situation and, he knew that Mark would suffer needlessly for something he knew absolutely nothing about.

       He quickly banished this feeling from his mind. This was a time for self-preservation, not weak-minded emotionalism.

      He quickly put on his clothes and as he was about to turn around and leave the room, the door opened. Mark, two other boys with three other girls staggered into the room.

      They immediately noticed the girl on the bed and saw that something was wrong.

They tried to revive the girl but to no avail, it was obvious that she was dead.  

      One of the boys in the room claimed to be friends with Fiona and immediately attacked Ronald, accusing him of murdering her. A scuffle ensued and the others broke it up.  

      Charles, Fiona’s friend, accused Ronald of having sex with Fiona and then murdering her in cold blood. Ronald protested vehemently. He swore that all they had had was sex. Suddenly, he had noticed that she was no longer moving and when he examined her she was dead.

      Charles refused to believe his story claiming that what had happened to Fiona was a case of somebody who was twisted in the mind, having sex with a young, beautiful woman and then murdering her. The others supported Charles and insisted that the police had to be called. Ronald was to be handed over to the police.

      Ronald begged vehemently and swore that he was innocent. As all this was going on, Mark kept quiet and continued to watch the exchange. At this time, all the other guests at the party were now in the bedroom where Fiona was lay dead on the bed and, Ronald was trying to convince everybody that he was not the one that killed her. Some people believed him but, most did not. All in all, there were about nine people in that bedroom.

        Somebody said they could not just stand there and do nothing. They had to call the police. They could all be punished for a crime that had been committed by Ronald. 

      Roland begged and argued but, the voices of those who were insisting that the police should be called overrode the one or two people that were supporting him and asking for a solution to be found to the problem.

       Mark stood there as if he was a zombie, completely out of his wits. He did not know what to do. He was confused and, he was scared. Here he was with a dead girl in his room not knowing how this disaster had occurred. He knew that the justice system in the country was not only slow, but it was also cruel. He knew that once the police entered into the picture his life might as well be over. It was such a sad situation. Then someone made a suggestion. 

       First, it had become obvious that only Charles knew Fiona intimately. She had come to the party in his company.  Charles claimed to have met her casually, just as Ronald had met Mark casually at the bar. According to him, he had liked her looks and had decided to bring her to the party.

      With this revelation, people started thinking hard.  Somebody suggested that they should wrap the body of the dead girl in some sheets and wait till it's dark. Then they could dump it somewhere, and everybody would go their own way. Some argued against this, claiming that that was inhuman. It was, according to them, the most disrespectful thing to do to the dead.  People will be looking for her, and she probably has parents and loved ones who would be in agony for a long time. Others argued that they will be caught in the act. That these things always go down like that. That dumping a dead body anywhere in Lagos is one of the most dangerous and stupid things to do.

       The argument swung back to the idea that they should call the police, and let them take care of the matter. But others pointed out that once the police came in, all of them would not only be suspects, at the very least they will be accessories to murder. This line of thought chilled everybody to the marrow. 

      Suddenly, everybody was on the same page. The problem now is, how to dispose of the body. They argued at length. At the end of the day, somebody suggested that the best thing for them to do was to bury the body. The problem now was, where will they bury the body.    

      Suddenly, Ronald felt very, very calm. He told them that he knew a place where they could bury a body and there would be no questions asked. They all looked at him as if he had gone mad, and reminded him that he was the one that caused the problem. Charles called him an insensitive psychopath.

       It was at this stage that Ronald told everybody where he worked. He now proposed a plan of action. He said that all they needed was enough money to bribe the cemetery gatekeeper and the rest he would handle by himself. However, they had to wait till around midnight before they could make their move. 

        After a little argument, they all agreed to carry out the plan. However, they had to wait a little while for the night to come.

      At midnight, they wrapped the girl in a sheet and put her in the boot of a car. The others got into two other cars, while Ronald and Mark got in the car with the dead girl.       

      They drove straight to the cemetery without any incident. Ronald got out of the car, spoke to the gatekeeper and money exchanged hands. The gate was opened and the convoy of cars drove to the end of the cemetery. An area that was not yet developed.

      Ronald left them there, went to a shed, and came back with a pickaxe and shovel. He used the car's headlights for illumination and started digging an unauthorized grave. 

      The weather was still, and a weak moon shone down in a mournful glow. He dug the grave very quickly. He wasn’t bothered that the others refused to offer a helping hand, it was obvious that they believed that it was his mess and that he should do the tedious work alone. No problem, this was what he did for a living. The best thing was to do everything quickly and get over this unpleasant episode in his life. It was when he had finished digging that he realized that he had dug deeper than was necessary. Well, that’s better, since this was a nasty business anyway.

      The dead girl, still wrapped in sheets was brought out of the car and placed beside the grave. They all stood there looking at her in silence. Then, one of the girls suggested that they say a prayer for her before burying her. There was a little argument about this, then they all agreed.

      Charles agreed to officiate the impromptu rites and proceeded with the unhappy ceremony. Ronald on his part was beside himself with impatience. He just wanted to get on with this sad affair and see it end.

      With the prayers concluded, the bunch at the graveside instructed Ronald to put Fiona into it. Ronald simply rolled the corpse into the grave with his foot.

      The corpse landed at the bottom of the pit with a soft thud. Roland picked up his lamp to take a look at it then, he froze. He looked closer at the person in the grave, he knelt to take a very close look. To be sure that he was seeing what he was seeing; he shone the lamp steadily into the grave for some time, then he stood up.

        As he had rolled Fiona into the grave, the sheets over her face had fallen away. In the cold lights of the lamp and headlights, the face of the corpse in the grave was not Fiona’s!!! He turned around to look at his new friends and was met with stony stares all around. They all neither looked surprised nor alarmed. What is going on here?

      Roland was about to protest when felt a cold metallic object in his back. He knew without looking that it was a gun. Mark told him in a very cold voice that if he did not complete the job he had started, he would be shot and buried along with the unknown woman.

     Ronald knew that he didn’t have a choice, he was outnumbered and unarmed. He picked up the shovel and filled the grave with dirt, burying the unknown woman completely. It was after this that he was shown a mobile phone recording of him doing all the things he shouldn’t have done. He felt like a fish that had been caught on a hook. They had him.

      They all got into the cars and left the cemetery. They drove through the quiet Lagos night until they got to his residence. Roland was shocked to know that they knew where he lived. He was instructed to get down and then told in very clinical terms that he would be summoned any time he was needed. If he tried to make waves, a video of him burying a murdered woman would be sent to the authorities.

       As they drove off, an envelope was handed over to him. It contained a hundred thousand. He immediately felt the constraining bonds of criminal slavery. 

        

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              

 

  

 

NIGERIA ANALYSIS: THE WAY FORWARD

The Nigerian state is delicately poised on the brink of a precipice. In this most crucial of times, the possibilities of survival or, disaster are almost equal. This state of affairs is neither strange nor unique. It is symptomatic of a virulent malaise that has plagued the world since the late 19^th century to date. That malaise is soul-crushing poverty.

      Nigeria like most former colonies is resource-rich. However, the vast majority of Nigerians are poor, very poor. It is an undeniable fact that the material condition of a human being determines every situation in his state of existence. In other words, if a human being is materially poor, such a person will also be mentally poor, emotionally poor, ideologically bankrupt, psychically dislocated, and spiritually hollow. Simply put, because we live in a plane of material existence, therefore, any form of material deprivation leads to deprivation in all other aspects of material existence.

      With this fact firmly established, it means that despite Nigeria’s resource wealth, it is, in reality, a poor country. Thus, it must be the very nature of its people to produce poor leaders. This singular fact can only partially explain the deep crisis of survival that the Nigerian state is enmeshed in.

      Colonialism as a model of imperial state business enterprise created Nigeria. Every nation within the colony put up resistance but, this was usually feeble due to the weakened nature of the sub-region. The people of the sub-region had already been materially devastated and dislocated by many man-made disasters – self-serving jihads, senseless civil wars, inhuman slave trading, sadistic cultural practices, and disease. Thus, all the British had to do was carry out a process of pacification, and then install a structure to facilitate primitive exploitation of the territory.

      Nevertheless, the British had to give up their imperial business holdings due to the fallout of the 2^nd world war. They were not given much of a choice in this regard because, the newly emergent powers after the war were the United States and the Soviet Union, two countries whose state ideologies were vehemently against any form of slavery, be it human or territorial. Colonialism is territorial slavery. Thus, a fundamental condition for economic aid, was for the devastated European powers to give up their territorial slave holdings(colonies) through the facilitation of state independence.

      As an imperial business enterprise, Nigeria was a cash cow for the British and it was not just ready to let go just like that. It created structures and put into place certain instruments that made sure that it had a neo-colonial hold over its business. This was not strange since all the other European colonial powers did the same in their former colonies.

      Using the instrument of divide and rule, control of resource extraction entities, an extremely lop-sided regional structure, and the endemic distrust among the co-existing nations; the foundation for state destabilisation and an endless crisis was firmly established. However, it must be clearly pointed out that it was the conscious refusal of the elite state actors to confront crucial and objective realities, and at the same time ask and answer vital existential questions that have been the true foundation of the unending crisis faced by the Nigerian state.

      No entity can survive a state of immobility, and a country is no different. Whether the state of Nigeria likes it or not, it has to keep moving in time. Like all entities, it will like to remain in existence but, in the case of Nigeria, will it? Its crisis of survival can only be rooted in three outcomes – maintaining the status quo, complete administrative, economic, and political restructuring, or, balkanisation. One of these three or, a hybrid of them most occur. This is as sure as the sun rising tomorrow morning.  Thus, we have to look at each of these possible outcomes critically.

      A position of being in a status quo is the desire for things to remain the way they are and, continue the way they are. It is a conscious attempt to keep things the way they are. In social, economic, and political terms, it is an attempt at frustrating change. It is a desire to keep political and administrative structures the way they are. It is a need to keep an oligarchic socio-political hierarchy stable.

      The status quo in Nigeria can be traced back to the misfortune of military misadventure into Nigerian politics. The 15^th January 1966 coup d' etat with its attendant unexpected consequences laid the groundwork. The 1963 Republican constitution was suspended and, absolute political power resided in the hands of the ruling military junta. The military dissolved the three regions by chopping them up into smaller pieces which they gave the grandiose titles of “states”. They then imposed an administrative and political structure based on rigid centralisation of authority. Thus, though Nigeria was called a federation, in reality, it was a unitary state in its extreme form.

      The preferred nature of administration by the military was by decree. A decree is a law that is both unassailable and unchallengeable. Although, it has been argued that this was necessary for the successful prosecution of the 1967 – 1970 civil war by the victors; its retention after the war was by design and not forgetfulness.

      What this state of affairs did was to greatly increase the fears of domination expressed by a section of the Nigerian state and the nationalities therein. A fear that is based on good reasons and solid historical references.

       Though the military had ruled Nigeria for just over half of its post-independence history, the periods of civil rule, which includes the present; have only reinforced the entrenchment of the status quo. The constitutions of the 2^nd, 3^rd, and 4^th republics were the instruments for maintaining the status quo. In name, these constitutions claimed to be federal in structure but, in reality; they continuously whittled away any powers that the so-called federating units had. Thus, the constitution of the 4^th republic is structured in such a way that the central authority is monstrously powerful, while the “federating units” are all highly dependent appendages. In fact, with the exception of its title, the 1999 constitution is a classic example of a written unitary constitution.

      The nature of the status quo remains entrenched because of its roots.  The minority Fulani ruled most parts of northern Nigeria as an oligarchic theocracy prior to the coming of the colonialists. Using religious guile and military ruthlessness, they had conquered and overthrown the political elite of the dominant Hausa nation and many other smaller nations in what is today known as northern Nigeria. They had also managed to destroy the only threat they had in the Sahel, namely, the Oyo empire through the instruments of internal greed and treachery; tactics they have used against the other nations till this day, over and over, with unrelenting success.

       By achieving this feat, the Fulani became the undisputed masters of the Sahel. They then imposed their own form of colonialism on the conquered nations of the area through the administrative instrument of an emirate system. It was this state of affairs that the British found when they came to the region in a colonising adventure of their own.

       No nation gives up its cash cow without a struggle, and the Fulani were no different. They resisted the British with everything they could muster. Things came to a head when the two forces faced each other in pitched battle. The over 200,000 strong Fulani cavalries were decisively routed by the 5,000 strong British infantry. The decisive factor was the wide discrepancy in weapons technology. Soldiers armed with swords, spears, bows, and arrows and, fighting on horseback; were simply slaughtered by soldiers lying in trenches, armed with Gatling machine-guns and single-action rifles.

     However, as every man of destiny knows, there’s nothing like a bad situation, it’s what you make of the cards you’re dealt. The inheritors of the decimated caliphate met with the representatives of the British crown and made them an offer they couldn’t refuse. The Fulani asked the British to allow them to continue to run their caliphate, promising to make good on the issue of exploitation and expropriation on their behalf, while continuing to feather their own nest.

      The British being one of the most pragmatic people in the world, agreed to this arrangement for very practical reasons. First, they already had this kind of arrangement in the Indian sub-continent, a situation where the conquered rulers assisted in the exploitation of their own territory. Second, they had neither the manpower nor resources to directly subjugate and administer the territory. They were still having an enormous headache with the pacification of the southern part of the territory. Third, a partnership with the Fulani in which they controlled the dynamic through the corruption of the institutions of government was infinitely more profitable.

      Thus, until the end of the 2^nd world war, this was the status quo. The need for the British to divest themselves of their colonial interests after the war brought about the need to rearrange the colony in such a way that exploitation would continue. For this plan to be successful, they used their Fulani friends as proxies. Thus, the grossly lop-sided regional arrangement. The arcane parliamentary machinations. The cooked census figures. The rigged independence elections. The unending destabilisation and much more. The status quo is about exploitation, unending exploitation. The result is endemic and crippling poverty for the people. This can definitely not be the way forward.

      This brings us to the issue of restructuring. In ordinary terms, the word simply means, to rearrange the component parts of an object into a new pattern or, form. In other ways, the rearrangement of the object could be to return it to its old form. Whichever way you look at it, restructuring means the rearrangement of the component parts of an object or, entity.

      However, in its most clinical political form, what is restructuring? In Nigerian political language, restructuring means the return to the political, administrative, and institutional structures maintained and guaranteed by the 1963 Republican constitution; that preceded the 15^th January 1966 coup d’état that demolished the first republic.    

        Nevertheless, it is very important to point out here that, in Nigeria, the word restructuring, has a deeper and highly emotional meaning. It refers to the cry of helplessness of the disempowered and neutered power elite of the former southern regions. This unhappy state of affairs now includes the middle belt areas and parts of the far north. In actual reality, it means the agitation of various indigenous nationality power elites who have been excluded in all areas of direct influence, from acting within the country’s power matrix. By intrinsic definition, it means all of those elements, whose political power yearnings are not directly satisfied within the status quo. These are the people the inheritors of the status quo, tongue-in-cheek call the “disgruntled elements”.

       At this point in this write-up, it is important that we have a fundamental understanding of the meaning of political power. Political power at its most rudimentary is the power to allocate resources and value. It is the right to decide who gets what, when, where, and how? In simple language, it is the right to be the one who shares to, or, withdraws the good things of life from others.

     Despite the simplicity of the definition given above, it is easy to see how universal its effect is on the life of an individual, nation, and state. Thus, when we talk about restructuring, we are also talking about empowerment. The first republic’s three region state structure empowers the elite of the coexisting nationalities and through them empowers their people. The key positive in this is that each group of people can pursue the necessity of development at their own pace, without being tied to the apron strings of others.

      Since power is intrinsic to human nature, and all human beings aspire to areas of optimum personal power within their own worlds; restructuring will reduce the winner-takes-all and, do-or-die attitude currently displayed by state political actors. This is because, what they are looking for in Abuja, will be in their backyards. The fact is that, apart from an almost complete form of administrative and political autonomy; restructuring guarantees resource control.

       The agitation for restructuring and its key component of resource control is boosted by the discovery that practically every part of the country is resource-rich, either in oil or, solid minerals. Everybody has the instrument of development in their backyard. Everybody can move at their desired pace. Everybody can authoritatively protect, enhance and enjoy their own cultural ideals. More so, everybody can feel less threatened. The truly strange thing is that the agitation and settlement for the three region structure at independence are to prevent what is happening now – the fear of domination!

       Thus, a majority of the elements within the counter-elite believe that the opposition to restructuring is based on the selfishness and greed of the elite. They see the position of those trying to protect the status quo as a blatant exhibition and practice of internal or intra-state colonialism. Unfortunately, most members of the counter-elite have refused to stare the truth in the face. Most of them have been compromised by peanuts and crumbs from the master’s table. The result of this brand of myopic intellectual behaviour is that they are too busy throwing each other under the bus, instead of paying attention to what really matters.

      The objective truth is that the crisis of state that the country is currently facing, will be enormously reduced with restructuring. The leaders and their followers in the coexisting nations that make up Nigeria will have their hands full, trying to actualise their development goals, instead of fighting a do-or-die battle for the centre. It is a situation in which there will be hope for the average man on the streets. It will greatly ameliorate the soul-crushing poverty that is now being experienced around the country. It is the narrow perception of entitlement intrinsic in the mentality of the protectors of the status quo and, their active perpetuation of such, that is the crux of the call for balkanisation.

      The process of balkanising a state can come about in two ways – by negotiation or, by secession. In the first instance, members of the elite and counter elite sit at a round table and mutually agree to carve up the country. In this situation, an agreement is reached in terms of the former state’s assets and liabilities. In other words, a mutual agreement is reached on who gets what and, who pays for what? Separation by negotiation is always a long, drawn-out process. This process is only short and quick if the parties involved are all eager to go their separate ways.  History has examples of this type of mutual willingness to separate. It is usually profitable and painless.   

      The second process of state balkanisation is by secession. In the case of secession, a portion of the state decides to cut all ties from the whole, and create a new, totally independent state. In the first instance where separation is by negotiation, issues and assets of common interest can still be owned and jointly administered. However, in the case of secession, separation is usually total. In most cases, the people or nations of a seceding portion of a state come to this decision out of a feeling of acrimony; which is borne out of a sense of alienation. The process of secession comes about in two ways, which are either through a referendum or, through armed struggle.

       In the case of secession through the process of referendum, the affected people, or nations of the seceding portion of the state go to the ballot box to vote “YES” or “NO” to stay in the union or not. If “YES” is the simple majority vote, separation is immediate and total. If the simple majority vote is “NO”, then the seceding portion remains in the union. However, it should be pointed out that a referendum vote can only come about through an enforced mediation of superior power or, the superior intelligence of the state’s ruling elite.

      Conversely, secession can come through armed struggle. In this case, separation is brought about through the instrument of violence. The seceding forces engage in pitched battles against the forces of the state. This is what is known in common parlance as a civil war. This form of separation is always messy and wasteful both in human and material resources for both sides. If the secessionists succeed, they spend years licking their wounds, while their antagonists are doing the same. If they lose, the victors are always wary and uncomfortable, and the losers harbour deep-seated hatreds that never go away, except through true and sincere integration.

      In Nigeria, the cry of secession is now country-wide. The reasons for this have already been mentioned, but for the sake of articulation will now be reiterated. First, is the issue of poverty. The undeniable and irrefutable facts are that a vast majority of Nigerians are poor. This is despite the proven fact that Nigerians are one of the most industrious people on the face of the earth. So, why are Nigerians so poor in their own country? In 2019, at the height of the raging COVID-19 pandemic, Central Bank reported that Nigerians sent over $17billion dollars into the country. This is more than total oil revenues for that year. If ordinary Nigerians could generate this kind of wealth in foreign lands, why are they so poor at home?

      Second, is the issue of exclusion of the counter-elite. The feeling of powerlessness that is systemically created is a source of frustration for most of the power players. It is this politics of exclusion that is being played that makes unity unattainable, no matter the amount of lip service or propaganda that may be applied. The feeling of domination is real and true. No nation of people likes to be dominated. The issue of domination comes directly through the exclusion of their elite from the power matrix. Once a nation’s elite is excluded from the power matrix, the whole nation is excluded.

      Third, the problem of an intellectually myopic and insular ruling elite, and their second-class collaborators. It is the determination to continue reinforcing a system that is practically unsustainable. If the Nigerian state is to survive common sense has to prevail. The fear is of the country imploding not exploding. In their myopic and insular intellectual state, they refuse to see that their need to support and propagate the status quo is a recipe for mutual disaster. They refuse to see that the status quo promotes poverty. The poverty that’s rooted in institutionalised social injustice.

 

      

        

THE NIGERIAN POLITRICKSTER - A POEM

 

A very interesting personality

The sorrow of a people.

Totally devoid of morals

Ethically bankrupt and diseased.

Its level of physical self-destruction is appalling,

 All in the name of power

It poisons itself daily,

Believing in one spiritual con-man or the other.

Even though it has stolen billions,

It is still a pauper.

This strange condition is guaranteed

By the poverty of its soul.

It has an ego the size of a skyscraper,

Yet with the fragility of an over-blown balloon.

Thus it can be reduced to nothingness

By the tiny pinprick of the truth.

Then it is exposed for all to see,

The joke that has pauperised millions.

An accident of fate

Crawling out of obscurity,

Where the worst elements in a society

Are the custodians of its power!

Thus is exposed

A very interesting personality

The sorrow of a people.

                                         Ayo Sodipo

                                        April 2020

CHOICES! ALWAYS CHOICES!!

Happiness is a choice,

It’s not a consequence.

It cannot be given

It cannot be earned.

It’s nobody’s property,

Yet it is owned by all.

It’s there for all to see,

Yet almost everybody is blind to it.

So, what’s wrong with us?

Is it a matter of intelligence?

Or, are we such clods,

That we can’t see?

It’s all up to us.

Happy or sad,

Sad or happy,

A choice you must make!

                 Ayo Sodipo

               April 2020 

WALKING ON THE EDGE OF A SHADOW (FICTION

 

 

 

Lagos, West Africa.

June – November 2014.

Kasali was so happy. His high school final year examination results had just been released. The results were brilliant. Now, he was sure that he would gain admission into a good university.  All that was left was to start the admission process. He called his parents, gave them the good news and everything was set into motion.  Four months later, he had matriculated and was in the university as a legitimate student. 

      Coast University was an incredible place. There were so many exciting people to meet and, so many thrilling things to do. Kasali immersed himself in this vibrant, young society and explored it with the fervour of a hungry dog in a new junkyard. Considering the fact that he had just gone through a very restrictive high school boarding system, the freedom of his new environment was dizzying.

      Kasali is a shy and socially inept young man. He is what is usually called a nerd. Although, highly intelligent and academically gifted, he was bit uncomfortable in social situations especially, those involving women. Nevertheless, he was a naturally disciplined person and he had honed this trait in the boarding school. Therefore, despite the near unlimited freedom now at his disposal, he started his university career with studiousness and purpose.

      Having attended an all-male high school, Kasali had never been in the midst of so many females and, in his opinion they were all so beautiful. His shyness manifested itself in his inability to interact freely with them without feeling awkward.  This didn’t stop him from interacting with his course mates but, most of them mistook his shyness for aloofness.

      The semester was half gone when things got strange. Kasali had gone to the college cafeteria one evening when he ran into Sandra, literally. He was carrying his food tray back to where he would enjoy his meal when this gorgeous girl walked into him without looking. She was texting on her mobile phone while walking toward the food counter. Despite Kasali’s best efforts to avoid her, she still walked into him spilling all the food on herself and the floor.

      They were both very angry and harsh words were exchanged. Kasali was very upset because the spilt food meant that he would have to go and buy another meal. His disciplined nature was appalled at the waste, and the time that would be spent on the long queue to get another meal. The young lady on her part was livid that her carefully selected outfit had been ruined by the food. Nevertheless, peacemakers intervened in time, before the situation degenerated into something more serious.

      Three days later, Kasali was in the library studying for a test, when he felt somebody touch him on the shoulder from behind. He turned around to see who it was. It turned out to be a ravishingly beautiful girl. She was smiling shyly at him. He recognised her immediately as the girl that had spilt his food in the cafeteria accident.

      Before he could say a word, she started apologising profusely, saying that the whole incident was all her fault. She went as far as insisting to buy him dinner in compensation for the one he had lost. Kasali was both flustered and flattered. He never believed that such a beautiful creature could be so humble. She told him that her name was Sandra, and that apart from compensating him for the meal, she wanted to be his friend. He declined her offer but she insisted. In the long run he gave in, although, it wasn’t as if he put up much of a resistance. Thus began what one would call an unlikely romance.

             Kasali fell in love with Sandra, and he fell hard. He was absolutely smitten. It didn’t matter that he was two years her junior in both age and the university. It didn’t matter that she was always uncomfortable  being seen around him, when she was with her friends. All he knew was that he was in love with the most beautiful girl in the world. He was delirious with happiness.

       Sandra introduced Kasali to sex. Although, she was his first, he was definitely not hers. She was way, way more experienced in the affairs of the flesh than he would have imagined, but he didn’t care. He was in love.

      However, despite all the excitement, his innate character couldn't be changed. Kasali remained a studious and disciplined student. This part of him irritated Sandra to no end, since it made absolute control of his being almost impossible. Nevertheless, being an extremely possessive person, Sandra did everything in her power to keep him in a social bubble. Any show of friendship towards another girl sent her into a rage. It seemed she was even jealous of his male friends. Although, Kasali’s friends warned him that there was something wrong with this type of behaviour, he explained it away as her love for him.

       On a weekend two months into their affair, Sandra asked Kasali to escort her to a party. He regretfully declined, explaining that he had to prepare for a test taking place the next week. She flew into a rage, accusing him of insensitivity. When she saw that he was adamant, insisting that he had to study, she promised to ask another boy along; and never to see him again. This ultimatum broke his resolve and he agreed to go with her. He would rather die than lose her.

      The party was loud, noisy and wild. It was filled with young people of all ages, shapes and sizes. The women were in all in different states of nakedness. They all wore clothes that were very revealing and designed to titillate. Kasali had never witnessed such a brazen display of flesh, not even on campus. Sandra introduced him to the host, a guy who introduced himself as Chukason. A drink was pushed into his hand and he was ordered to enjoy himself.

      Kasali had eaten and drank. He had declined the offer of different strange smelling cigarettes. He had also declined all alcohol. Nonetheless, he found out that he was enjoying himself. Next thing he knew; Sandra was dragging him out of the house into the garage. At the back was a room that in the dimness looked like a tool shed. In the shadows, he saw Sandra turn away from him, pull down her panties and grab her ankles, the glistening wetness of her nether regions winking at him from the darkness. As he moved purposefully towards her, he felt the bite of a mosquito on his neck.

      Kasali felt his head throbbing with pain. It was as if somebody was repeatedly hitting his skull with a sharp cutlass. Then he noticed that he was lying prone on a hard cement floor. He felt very cold.

      He tried to sit up with difficulty despite the pain in his skull. Having done this, he checked his surroundings.

      He was in a bare room. It was not empty. The other people in the room were young people. They all looked scared and desperate. He stared at them and they stared back, their eyes reflecting the fright in each other. As he looked at them, his common sense and mental discipline kicked in. He knew immediately that he was in some kind of prison. The looks of his fellow inmates, and their various apparels suggested that this was a kidnapper’s den. Kidnap?!?! How had this happened?

      He did a mental review of everything he could remember, quickly. The party! Sandra!!

      The party was still very fresh in his mind. He vividly remembered Sandra dragging him to the back of the garage for some naughty activity. He remembered the mosquito bite. He touched his neck, and it slightly swollen. He realised that this was the method with which he had been drugged. But, where was Sandra? What had happened to her?

      Fear for Sandra’s safety rose in Kasali like a tsunami. Where was his love? What had these monsters done to her?

      He looked around the room desperately trying to see if he could recognise her among the captives. It was obvious that she was not in the room. Fearfully, wild thoughts chased one another chaotically around in his mind. The care for his loved one making him completely forget about the desperately dangerous situation that he was in.

      Suddenly! The door to the room flew open, and four large men armed with machetes entered.

      Kasali saw a boy in the room jump up and rush towards the door. Before he could take three steps, the armed man closest to him casually beheaded him with one swift stroke of his machete. The victim's head sailed across the room to land with a loud thud beside Kasali. The bodiless head winked sorrowfully at Kasali, while the its mouth open and closed in soundless horror.

      The horror and casual brutality of the scene froze the remaining captives into place. Many of them defecated on themselves as they watched the headless body twitching, geysers of blood spraying from its severed neck.

     The captives were ordered into a line and handcuffed behind their backs. They were all marched to what looked like a huge warehouse. Their cuffs were removed and they were ordered to undress quickly. A girl among them protested and she was promptly beheaded. Her head and body were taken away by some men. The other captives scrambled out of their clothes as if it was on fire.

     Naked, they were all matched into a huge bathroom were they were scrubbed and hosed down like animals. Still shivering, they were then locked up in a bare metallic room. Leaving each one of them in a private and collective hell.

      Kasali was no longer sure whether it was night or day. The circumstances in which he found himself had made disorientation total. His heart tripped and hammered in his chest like a caged bird. He relived his short and uneventful life over and over in his mind wishing that he had done this or that. He thought of his parents knowing that he may never see them again. He thought of his siblings and his small circle of friends. Then he thought of Sandra and gut wrenching sobs were ripped from his lips as the fear of what might have become of her tore him to pieces inside. After some time, hunger and fatigue took their toll and he fell into a nightmarish sleep.

      Kasali was woken up from the nightmare he was having by a painful noise. He didn’t how long he had slept. He and the others were forced into a rude line and marched into a clinic in which they were all given a thorough medical check-up. This prompted him to start believing that maybe the kidnappers were not interested in ransome. He remembered that two people have already been killed. If they we’re interested in ransome would they have killed their payday? Ugly thoughts that he was scared of being confirmed started chasing each other across his mind.

       After an unknown period of time, numbered stickers were placed on their foreheads and they were taken to a large empty mirrored room. They were left there standing naked under very bright lights. Nothing was left to the imagination. Then a side door opened, and a middle-aged man in flowing white robes came in, escorted by six large men armed with razor sharp machetes and shot guns. He was obviously the boss. He stood in front of each captive, inspecting him or her as thoroughly as one might inspect an animal one wanted to buy. After this, he left the room. However, three of his thugs remained behind.

      One after the other, each of the prisoners were taken before a large wall mirror while the thug received instructions from an unseen person through a mobile phone he had on him. After what looked like an inspection, the prisoner was now led through one of several doors on the side of the room.

       After Kasali’s inspection, he was led through a maze of corridors into an empty room and left there. Kasali knew that the end was near and he prayed fervently for a miracle. He had been fairly religious before gaining admission into the university but Sandra had made him back-slide. Nevertheless, he was a man of faith and he continued to pray in the spirit.

      After what seemed like hours, one of the thugs came into the room carrying a bundle of clothes. He was told to put these on quickly while the thug watched. After dressing up, he was told to close his eyes while black cloth pads were put on them. These were held into place with black wrap-around-sunshades. He could not see a thing and, anybody observing him would have thought that he was blind.

      He was lead through a series of corridors out into the open air. A car’s engine started and he was pushed into the back sit. The door was slammed shut and it started moving while he was hemmed in-between two large men. His heart was beating at an incredible rate. As the car rocked on its chassis, taking in the curves at high speed, he knew that he getting closer and closer to his death. Tears of despair soaked his improvised blindfold and he started crying aloud. He was ignored.

      After what seemed like a long time, the car slowed down and entered what seemed to Kasali’s senses like a residential area. Later, it seemed to enter a compound and stop. Kasali wet himself. He started shivering, violently. This was it.

      The car’s front passenger door opened and somebody got into the car. He must have been a large man because the car’s shock absorbers groaned. The scent of an expensive cologne permeated the car’s interior temporarily overcoming the stench of Kasali’s fear.

      The car’s interior was silent save for Kasali’s soft moans of despair. Then the big man spoke.

      He had a deep, soft, soothing voice. He called Kasali by his given name and told him that under no circumstance should he remove his blindfold or try to find out who was talking to him. This he said would give him no choice but to kill him. This he said he didn’t want to do.

      Kasali was shocked and grateful for this turn of events. The deep voice told him that he could ask any question he liked except for knowing who he was.

      Kasali took a deep breath and then asked him why he was helping him? He heard the soft, rumbling laughter of the man as he replied the question.

       According to him, he knew Kasali’s father whom he referred to as a very good man. He said many people including himself had been raised up by the man and that they owed their success in life to his generosity and philanthropy. He said that he couldn’t see such a man’s child in trouble and not help, when he could.

      Kasali sighed deeply, and then asked about Sandra with a shaking voice, hoping upon hope that somehow the love of his life could also be saved.

      His rescuer was silent for some moments, then answered him. He told him that Sandra was the one who had effected his capture. According to him, Sandra and Chukason were members of the gang that had captured him. Their job was to lure unsuspecting and naïve young people into the gang’s net.

      The enormity of Sandra’s betrayal stunned Kasali. It had all been a lie. Everything had been a lie. The protestations of love. The jealousy, everything had been one huge lie. Yet, in hindsight, he had not been surprised. Even then, somehow at the back of his mind, he knew something was not right. Right from the moment he had met her, everything had been too dramatic.

      With a very subdued voice, he asked the big man how much she had collected for him. He said, fifty thousand naira, that was about a hundred American dollars.

     Kasali felt very, very sad. So, that was all he meant to her – Fifty thousand naira! Ordinary fifty thousand naira!! Na wa o !!!  

        The big man’s voice now told him to thank whatever God he worshipped and consider himself very lucky. He now proceeded to explain, why this is so.

     According to the big man, they were in the flesh business. They captured and traded in people and their parts for money. He went ahead to explain that each person that was captured was worth a lot. First, there was a massive international black market for replaceable organs. He said that he was talking about kidneys, livers, hearts and bone marrows. This was the reason they liked kidnapping young, unspoilt people like himself.

     Second, there is a huge market for babies. A young woman that has been lobotomized can produced up to eighteen children before her organs are harvested. Apart from that, some members of the elite preferred human breast milk for their beverages. They claim that the nutritional value is unsurpassed. They don’t mind paying fifty times over the cost of the animal variety.

      Body parts were also needed by ritualists seeking power, enormous wealth and in some cases unnaturally long lives. The body parts were used as payment or bribery to demon-gods they had agreements with. These bribes or payments had to be done regularly and sometimes at the spore of the moment since these entities were fickle, mischievous and cruel. They loved to introduce undisclosed items into the agreements.

      Then there was the issue of cannibalism. Unknown to the world is the fact that the human flesh eaters walk among us in droves. They are rich and they can afford their meat. According to these monsters, once you’ve tasted human flesh, you’ll not want to eat any other thing and; you’ll be ready to buy it at any price. He said that an interesting side effect of this delicacy was that it made you no longer fear any man. Everybody suddenly resembles a meal.

      Kasali sat there in stunned silence. His mind numb with the enormity of what he was hearing. After some time, he asked what was to become of him? He had the feeling that after hearing all these atrocities, he may not be set free. However, the big man told him that if he had wanted to harm him, he wouldn’t be sitting there talking to him. He said that the reason he was telling him all this was for Kasali to realise how lucky he was and, for him to be more conscious of his personal security. All he had to do was obey instructions and everything would be okay.

      Although Kasali was a bit doubtful, he kept on repeating a silent prayer to himself. There was hope.

     He asked about what would happen when he saw Sandra and Chukason in school?

      He heard a big rolling laughter rumble out of the big man’s chest. The big man told him that he would never see those two people in his life again.

     Kasali went rigid again and asked the big man what he meant by that statement.

      The big man now told him that Sandra was on her way to a baby factory while Chukason was on his way to a slave camp somewhere in the Middle East. Apparently both minions had overestimated their importance within the organisation and were asking for more money. Apart from that, they had made the mistake of threatening their handler with exposure – they had to go.

      While Kasali was still digesting this turn of events, the big man told to go with one of his henchmen for a change of clothes since he had defecated on himself many times over. He was led to a shower where he cleaned up again, and put on a fresh set of clothing. His blind fold was put on again and he was led back to the car. Before he entered the car, what felt like two small books were shoved into each pocket of his trousers.

     He was driven blindfolded out of the compound without knowing the destination. After about thirty minutes, the car stopped. He was brought out of the car and led to a stone bench were he sat.  He was told that he was free, but instructed to sit where he was for a count of a hundred then leave.

      Kasali sat where he was and counted up to a hundred in his mind. He then removed his blindfold and checked his pockets – it was money. He then started the walk to liberty and a normal life.

      Less than a week after his ordeal, Kasali was walking past the newspaper stand on campus when a headline caught his attention. It was about a top government official who had been stabbed to death by his maid. The man had been identified as Alhaji Burj. Taking a closer look at the picture of the victim, he recognised him as the man who had paraded them in front of the wall mirror when he was in captivity.

      Justice! Karmic justice!!