Professional Documents
Culture Documents
Tomo Rrow
Tomo Rrow
RROW
EBOH
KESIENA K.
TOMORROW
2
Tomorrow may be for sorrow
THE BEGINNING
T he woman’s eyes were opened now, and she was lying sideways and staring
at the wall in front of her. Her little daughter was seated at the edge of the
bed, her cheeks resting on her palms like a hopeless orphan. Then there was a
“Baby,” she addressed her daughter, “go see who’s at the door.”
The girl nodded and moved to the door of this one-room apartment. She
The man whom she called her uncle smiled too and hugged her. Then he
moved in with her to the bed where her mother lay. The woman seemed pleased on
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He sat at the edge of the bed and carried the girl on his laps. There was a
He knew she could not carry on, on her own. She needed help else she’d be
“You’re the only sister I have,” he told her. “You’re all I have. I want to help
you.”
The woman turned sharply to face him, just as the little girl on his laps lifted
“I know,” the man agreed, “but you’re all I have too. You can’t have her if
you keep on working yourself to death, and I can’t have you if you’re gone. Let me
“I don’t want to leave my mummy,” the girl said before it was too late, “I
The woman began to cry. She knew the man was right, and it was best to let
go of her child, at least for now. They would be together again in the future.
The man looked in her eyes, and beyond her tears, he saw her submission.
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“I will take care of her,” he assured. “I promise.”
“I don’t want to leave you, Mummy,” her daughter protested, as it was clear
The man cuddled the girl affectionately. “Your mummy will always come and
But she didn’t want that. She wanted to be with her mother always; she
The woman opened her eyes and beckoned to her daughter to come closer.
The girl slid out of the man’s laps and into her mother’s arms. Her mother began to
caress her.
“It’s okay, my darling,” she said. “You’re not going away forever. Someday,
The girl still shook her head in protest. And it hurt her mother and made the
“Listen, it’s for the best,” she said pleadingly. “I can’t take care of you. Can’t
you see? I’m dying slowly. Let your uncle take care of you. I promise I’ll always
The girl’s bones were broken. She buried her face in her mother’s bosom
And they lay there together, holding on to each other for a long time, and
crying profusely.
5
ONE
I t was dusk. The children were playing outside like there was no tomorrow. The
blasting of senseless music from all corners of this small village, Ekosodin, in
Benin City, was endless. Niye and Rachael were sitting at the front of Niye’s uncle’s
apartment.
“So how do you intend to get the money?” Rachael’s voice cut into Niye’s
Niye was staring bleakly in front of her. Tears had now found their way to the
cornermost parts of her eyes, and were trickling down her smooth face.
“Niye, can you hear me?” Rachael inquired with genuine concern.
Then she tapped at her friend’s lap. Niye slowly drifted back to reality, dimly
aware of her immediate surroundings. She grimaced at the sights around her.
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“Niye,” Rachael called, still peering in her friend’s face.
Rachael frowned in distress at the sight of tears running down her friend’s
cheeks.
Niye did not say anything, and as they were sitting close by each other,
Rachael pulled her into her arms and began to wipe the tears off her face.
“I wish,” Niye whispered. “You don’t know what it’s like living with someone
Rachael didn’t know whether to confront that statement or let it be. But as
she was taking too long making up her mind, Niye continued.
Niye stopped crying, and Rachael began stroking her long hair, like a mother
petting her beloved child to sleep. Rachael’s mind was working. She loved Niye like
a sister, like her own flesh. They had been friends since Niye had come to live in
Benin City, although Niye was born two years after Rachael had left the production
line. But now when Niye was seventeen, they were still together and agreed on all
things except one. The one subject Rachael was now going to bring up. Although
she respected her friend’s decision on the matter and sometimes wished she was
like her, Rachael knew it was not working. Niye had to and Rachael was ready to
“Don’t you think it’s time you had a boyfriend?” Rachael said, breaking the
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Niye withdrew from her friend’s arms and sat upright in her own seat.
“You’re bringing that up again,” She informed Rachael, her mouth pouted in
annoyance.
“But Niye,” Rachael said softly, “you can’t continue to depend on your uncle
“I don’t need everything,” Niye pointed out. “Just the money for my S.S.C.E
Rachael knew, like Niye, that she had the right to be pessimistic. Niye’s
uncle was a bricklayer working at any site where he had the opportunity. On a very
good day, he should make up to five hundred naira, and if he made that amount of
money everyday, he would become relatively stable at the end of the month. But
unfortunately, he didn’t make that amount everyday. He didn’t even have to work
everyday, for as the dry season came to an end, so also did building and
construction projects. And those projects that were yet to be executed would have
to wait untill after the rainy season. From where, then, was he going to get the
money for the S.S.C.E? Where was he going to get three thousand naira? When last
“Even if he doesn’t give me the money,” Niye continued from where she had
wondered.
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Niye fell back in thought. She was not contemplating having a boyfriend. Of
course she was not. She had seen too many things that boyfriends did to girlfriends
that she would rather marry at her age if she had the means than have one. But
she knew she believed in love. Even in a world torn apart by hate, Niye believed in
love. She believed that one day, when she came of age, she would love someone
who would love her back, and then they would get married and have children and
live happily ever after. Why, then, should she have a boyfriend now who would only
use her and in the long run-or short walk-dump her? She couldn’t afford to take the
risk. She couldn’t afford to sleep with someone who was not her husband. No, she
couldn’t. She wouldn’t. Not for all the money in the world. Her integrity and chastity
“Rachael,” Niye began her conclusion on the whole matter, “I won’t have a
Rachael knew better than to argue with her friend or to try to convince her
any further. She had done that so many times before and the end result had always
been an emphatic “No.” So, why would this time be different? She sighed. She
wished she was like Niye. Rachael had started having boyfriends since she was
fourteen and lost her virginity when she was fifteen. If she had known then what
she knew now, she would still have been chaste. But shove things, she had
someone now whom she loved. He was her boyfriend, and she hoped-she knew-he
loved her too. She would die if she lost him, she thought to herself.
Jonathan was his name and he was twenty-four years old and he was rich.
He was not rich on his own, for he was yet a student at the nearby University of
Benin. But his father was rich and made sure he lacked nothing. Perhaps this young
man can be of help to my friend, Rachael began to think. Jonathan would surely
help.
“Alright,” Rachael said, “I hope your uncle gives you the money. But if he
9
“I can’t extort money from your boyfriend,” Niye protested. “It’s not fair.”
“He has the money to give, over and over again,” Rachael assured her.
Niye did not want that to be her last option. She had never asked any man,
except her uncle, for anything, and she wished she wouldn’t. But she could. If her
uncle failed to give her the money, she should. Jonathan was her friend. Rachael
had done the introductions some months ago, and their friendship had continually
grown to the point where Niye had begun to wonder how strong the bonds binding
him and Rachael really were. But Rachael had continually boasted how much he
loved her and what and what things he had done for her.
But shove things, Niye was going to Jonathan if her uncle failed her. At least
“I hope so too,” her friend answered. “I should go home now. It’s getting
late.”
Niye observed her surroundings again. She noticed the music had died
down, but the children were still playing outside. It might really be getting late, she
thought.
Rachael rose to her feet and stretched and yawned. Niye rose too.
“Look at your tommy,” Niye teased her friend. “Did you accidentally swallow
a cow?”
Rachael laughed and looked at Niye, observing her. But as she could find no
physical weak points from which to begin a defence, she just continued laughing.
Niye was laughing now as she and her friend began to stroll towards the T-
junction ahead of them. Then she spotted Osato, her uncle’s daughter, playing in
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Osato looked up and ran to her elder cousin, wiping the sand off her hands
with the hem of her skirt. Niye dusted the young girl’s hair and regarded her with
curious affection. Osato’s eyes were still sparkling white, her skin was mildly
tanned, her nose was almost too pointed and her lips were full. Nothing had
changed.
“Go inside and have your bath,” Niye instructed. “Epa will soon be back.”
Niye watched her until she entered the apartment. Then she returned her
gaze to the T-junction ahead of her. There she and Rachael would part for the night
and then she would return home to wait for her uncle.
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TWO
A nd she waited. In the darkness of her room, she waited. Niye hated light,
So she waited and meditated in the comfort of the darkness in which she was
immersed.
Would her uncle give her the money or would he not? Had he even the
money? Niye flinched at the thought of not writing the S.S.C.E. Without her Senior
School Leaving Certificate, what future had she? She had planned to take the
Examination, and then major in English Language and Literature, and then
But those plans were made a long time ago. Those plans were made when
her father was still alive. Those plans were made when she had everything going
for her. Now she had nothing going for her, she thought grimly. Nothing at all. Her
And her mother; where even was her mother? Oh, her mother was
somewhere in Warri, far away from Benin where she was, Niye suddenly
remembered. And her mother’s face; could she still remember how it looked? Niye
sighed.
12
It had been seven years now since she last saw her mother-seven years ago
when her father had died. And when he did, his greedy family members had set in
to devour whatever good things he left behind, save his wife-her mother. But was
her mother really good? Niye did not know. Her father’s family sent the woman
packing from the home which her husband had built for himself, her, and his
daughter. Niye’s mother had tried to raise Niye, her only child, on her own. But she
otherwise.
It was then her mother’s brother, the only one Niye knew, stepped in. He
cared too much for his younger sister to let her suffer, he had claimed. So he had
offered to take Niye away and raise her on her mother’s behalf. And her mother had
But her uncle’s wife had been opposed to the idea. The woman saw Niye as
a burden unnecessary for her family to bear. Her husband was barely able to cater
for her, she had complained. How then will they survive with an extra mouth to
feed? Perhaps in frustration, she had taken to maltreating the poor little Niye as her
only form of consolation for her complaints which fell on deaf ears.
Then she had gotten pregnant and died during childbirth. Niye, even till
now, did not know whether to be happy or sad at her aunt’s death. For one thing, it
had ended her days of physical abuse; and for another, it had completely changed
her uncle’s outlook on life. He was now lacklustre and nonchalant, sometimes a
drunk.
But Niye had loved the child which her aunt had put forth which was Osato.
Niye had regarded it and nurtured it like it was her sister, her own child. They had
Slowly Niye sat up as she finished reflecting on years gone by. She didn’t cry.
Even when she thought of the unfulfilled promises her mother had made and the
many tortures her aunt had put her through, she did not cry. Even when she
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thought about how much her life had changed over the years and how much better
it would be should her father come back somehow, Niye did not cry. She had cried
at these thoughts all her life that it wasn’t occurring to her to cry anymore.
She got up and groped along the wall for the light switch. She found it and
switched on the light. She looked around the room as if trying to make sure
everything was intact. The bare cement floor was as it was before Rachael had
come that evening. The clothes hanger was as it had been for a long time now-
barely hanging any clothes. The old, torn mattress still maintained its position, and
Niye nodded and smiled contentedly as she moved again to the bed, and sat
on the edge, close to the bedside table. Then she opened the drawer and brought
out the three things that brought joy to her life and gave her a purpose for living.
She studied the first. It was a picture of Rachael. Rachael, she thought
appreciatively; what would she be without Rachael? It was Rachael who had loved
her when her aunt had hated her. It was Rachael who had taught her the basic facts
of life and the inevitable things that happen in a girl’s body. It was Rachael who had
even taught her to say plain “No” to the illicit demands of the “opposition sex”.
“Never tell them you’ll think about it,” Rachael had always told her. “That’s
like saying yes. Just tell them, ‘No,’ and ‘No’ means No.”
It was Rachael who had always been there to listen to her when she spoke,
and wipe the tears off her face when she cried. And on the few occasions when she
She loved Rachael and Rachael loved her, Niye concluded. But the only
thing with Rachael, which Niye was still trying to like, was Rachael’s temper. It was
hell let loose whenever Rachael was angry, especially when her temper rose to the
point where she began to vibrate. Niye still loved her despite her obvious
weakness.
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She put the picture aside and began to study another. It was that of her
father. She wouldn’t even have been born without him, Niye reasoned, and perhaps
without her mother too. Her father had loved her when he was alive. She had
always known that, for he had always told her so. And he had always showed it too.
She remembered all the good times she had had with him; the fun and laughter
and sometimes the tears when she misbehaved and was spanked.
Her father also taught her many things, even things she supposed her
mother should have taught her; one of which was the theory of virginity. He was
always drumming it in her ears, but it was only when she understood the facts of
life, that she came to appreciate the concept. And because the Bible endorsed
She had been successful so far, but it had not been easy. Her difficulties
were further multiplied by the fact that she was beautiful. Niye was beautiful and
everybody knew it. She had long, black hair that shone like heavily polished
furniture. Her face was oval, almost the shape of an egg. She had blazing clear
black eyes that were magnetic. Her nose was small and pointed like it was affixed
only after she had been born, and her lips were almost always pouted in a way that
was attractive.
Her breasts were full and tight. It was only when she took off her clothes
that one could notice a narrow aisle between them. Otherwise, both breasts
seemed one and the same. Her stomach was a flat as a slate and her legs were
long and straight. Her skin was altogether smooth and black. She was a ravishingly
lissom being.
Niye was beautiful and she knew it, for Rachael always told her so.
“That’s why they all want me,” Niye murmured. “I wish I wasn’t that
beautiful.”
15
Truly at her age, Niye had been approached by boys in different shapes,
sizes, and colours. She thought she could remember one whose skin was blue, and
another who walked on his head. Oh, those were in her dreams, she recollected.
Then she put her father’s picture aside and began to stare at her last
purpose for living-a piece of paper. It was the last thing her father had given her. On
his death bed, just before he passed away, Niye’s father had written her a poem
which had now come to become her guiding principle and her philosophy in life.
There is always a better tomorrow, she thought and smiled, displaying a set
Hurriedly she put her life together, and placed them in their place in the
drawer. Then she got up and strolled into the sitting room.
BY THE time Mr. Efosa Esosa, a lean, thin-faced man with sharp features had
finished eating and taking his bath, and was relaxing in front of his apartment,
Osato was asleep and Niye thought it the right time to ask, that is beg, her uncle
Slowly she opened the front door and went outside to sit by him, the way
“What is it?” her uncle asked harshly, like he hated the sound of her
presence.
Niye knew she had better speak up now that he bothered to ask.
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“Three thousand naira,” she managed to say.
Her uncle didn’t flinch. He sat there staring in front of him like he had the
Niye shifted uneasily. It was obvious that her uncle didn’t have the money,
and instead of facing the facts, he was looking for a means to hook the blame on
“It was made some time ago, I can’t really remember when,” Niye answered
belatedly.
“And why didn’t you tell me then?” her uncle continued his assault.
“I was waiting for the right time,” Niye replied, keeping her voice as low as
possible.
“So now is the right time, eh?” Mr. Efosa’s voice suddenly shot up as he
flung his face in Niye’s direction. “Is now the right time?”
He was still looking at her. Niye knew better than to look in her uncle’s face
when he was angry. She could collapse or die from the fright that lay therein, and
no one would come to her aid. Ekosodin was a place where everyone-even the
Mr. Esosa turned his face away from her and began to stare again in front of
him. He seemed pacified by her act of submission and humility. At least that was
“Niye, you know the dry season is coming to an end,” he said, his voice
shooting down as dramatically as it had shot up. “Jobs now are few and not paying.
In fact throughout today, all I made was one hundred and fifty naira, and that was
because a fellow bricklayer let me share his work with him. Otherwise, I’d have
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Niye did not need the explanation. She already got the point the moment his
“So Epa, what are you saying?” she asked, her voice unsteady like she were
already crying.
Mr. Efosa flinched and grimaced. He had to say what he had to say. Three
thousand naira was a lot of money which he didn’t have and wouldn’t borrow
because he couldn’t repay. Niye would have to wait till next year. He should be able
He cleared his throat and whispered something which Niye did not seem to
“I said I have no money.” Her uncle’s voice had shot up again, but he had
not yet finished speaking. “In fact I’m tired of this whole…thing,” he continued. “If I
had money, my wife would not have died the way she did! Maybe you should just
go back to your mother. Next year, I’ll send money for you to write your exams. I
am tired!”
The tone in which he had spoken, and the bitterness with which he had
poured out his heart, made Niye do nothing but cry. It was no point sitting there any
longer, crying in his presence; she arose and hurried back indoors.
Once in her room, Niye flung herself hopelessly on her bed, her sobbing
intensifying. Her uncle hated her and she didn’t know why. Even if he hadn’t the
money, he could at least have spoken to her in a decent and fatherly manner. She
would understand. Instead he had blared at her like she was the reason he was
poor, like she had forced him to take her away from her mother, like she was
responsible for his wife’s death. And he did that almost every time-when he had the
slightest opportunity- except when she told him food was ready. And that was
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And when Niye had gone indoors, Mr. Esosa began to ponder what he had
just done. Niye was a girl who respected him like a father and loved his daughter
like her sister. She was intelligent and well-mannered. And yet he was so harsh on
her. He didn’t know why. All he could do now was blame himself for being poor; for
if indeed he was otherwise, his wife would be alive today. His life flashed before his
eyes like he were about to die and he saw the good old days he had had with
Angelina before Niye had come into their lives and before she had died.
He bit at his lower lip as tears began to trickle down from the corner of his
eyes. Hurriedly he brushed them away with the back of his palms, and sniffed back
his sorrows and pains. He could not afford to cry; for whether rich or poor, happy or
THREE
E kosodin is where the majority of the students of the University of Benin live. It
should the students leave. Most of the houses are built like apartment buildings and
are generally called hostels because it is anticipated that they would be inhabited
generally called a room. There is a major street called Edo Street which branches
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off at different points to form other streets which would also branch off at different
points to form other streets. At the centre of Edo Street is a T-junction that leads to
Ekosodin was a nice and serene place to live in, especially if you were a
student or if you were not that rich or if you were that rich and would not like the
She was walking down Edo Street this fine Saturday morning when it
suddenly dawned on Niye that it would not be a bad idea for Rachael to go with her.
Her uncle was off to work, that is to look for work, and Osato was secure in their
She passed the T-junction and branched into Hill Crest Street, headed for
Rachael’s place. Thousands of whistles were blasting in her ears form every
direction, almost deafening, but Niye kept her head focused on where she was
going. She wasn’t going to heed the calls of these “opposition sex” that were lined
about the street. In fact Niye had vowed to have nothing to do with any student,
except with Jonathan because he was her friend’s boyfriend. For one thing, Niye
was afraid of students who were secret cultists, and since it was practically
impossible to tell from a distance who was a cultist and who was not, Niye had
decided that the best thing to do was to stay away from students altogether. She
remembered once when there was a clash between two rival cult organisations.
There were guns and machetes and every other thing evil. There were killings and
maimings and destruction. In fact, as far as Niye was concerned, it had to be worse
Secret cults were a menace to the country’s educational system and Niye
wondered why anyone would want to belong to such organisations. She hated them
with a passion.
Well, thank God Jonathan is not a cultist, Niye thought with relief. But how
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“It’s obvious,” she answered.
Niye reached her destination and entered the premises. She sighed as she
began to make unwholesome comparison between her and Rachael. Just look at
where Rachael lived, she thought. It wasn’t the best place ever but it was far better
than her uncle’s “cubicle”. At least it was bigger. And Rachael was living with her
parents and brothers and sisters-people that loved her. That’s why Rachael was
able to register for the S.S.C.E two days after the announcement was made.
She knocked gently on the door, then knocked again. The second time, a
little harder. The door opened and a nicely elongated, chocolate-coloured fellow
stood in the entrance. He was smiling respectfully at Niye. His hair was plenty but
not unkempt, his eyes were big and bulging. His face would have been the shape of
a rectangle only that the edges were a little more rounded. His nose was almost too
flat to be noticed, and his lips were actually too wide. It was only when he smiled
“Omo, how’re you?” Niye greeted, like she was adressing Osato, or perhaps
“My dearest.”
Omo made a sound that seemed like disapproval. “Well, she went to town.”
“But she didn’t tell me she was going to town today,” Niye mused.
“Who’s your Iye?” Omo eyed her jealously. “Don’t call my mother your Iye.”
Niye laughed. “Is this how possessive you are? Is this how you’re going to
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Omo broke down in a smile. He knew she was teasing him. It had always
“I should literally tie a string around your waist if you were my wife,” he
“Ah, thank God I won’t be,” Niye said as if in genuine relief. “I can only wish
Omo laughed.
at her wrist-the one Rachael had given her on her last birthday.
Omo wanted to ask Niye who it was that she was going to see, but he
“No thank you,” Niye replied succinctly. “Extend my greeting to Iye and the
others.”
“Okay…take care.”
“I will.”
Niye wanted to laugh as she left Omo’s presence, but she restrained herself.
As she stepped back into Edo Street, headed for the T-junction from where she
would branch off again in the direction of Jonathan’s hostel, Niye could clearly
remember the first day Omo had “expressed his feelings” for her.
She had gone to see Rachael on that fateful day, and the elongated fellow
had answered the door. Rachael was not home, he had said. And as she turned to
leave, he had told her to wait. He locked the door and offered to see her off. She
had agreed.
They had walked on in silence for a while before Omo had cleared his throat
22
“I love you,” he had said abruptly.
Niye had stopped automatically in her strides, like she had slammed herself
into an emergency brick wall that had sprung up in front of her; her eyes and
mouth opening wide, like she was staring at the president of the country who had
“Do you hear me? I said I love you,” Omo had said again, his voice unsteady,
like there was an atomic bomb pointed to his face and he was begging for his life.
“So?” Niye had said calmly, the brick wall and the president disappearing.
Niye had immediately erupted in laughter. She didn’t mean to, but she had
“What’s so funny?” the fifteen year old had asked in sheer embarrassment.
“I’m only expressing my feelings for you. Is anything wrong with that?”
Niye had willed herself to stop laughing, and shook her head at the pathetic
figure. She had then gone on to lecture him on the “Fundamentals of Progression in
Relationships.”
“First you have your mother, father, brothers and sisters,” she had
explained. “Then you have friends, and female friends, and then a girlfriend, a
He had nodded his head like a malfunctioning robot and had thanked her
profusely. That day they had agreed to be friends, but their friendship never grew
beyond teasing and making each other laugh. Mostly it was Niye who made him
laugh, although when he was in the right mood, he could be one hell of a clown.
Omo had a quiet, serious face like one of those police detectives. But beneath that
cloak was a jester eager to be released. They could sit together for hours, laughing
in the most hysterical fashion, that anyone who saw them would reasonably
conclude that they and madness were one and the same. Once, a renowned mad
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Niye laughed now as she thought about three years ago.
“Omo isn’t really that cute, but he makes me laugh,” she said. “That’s
She wished she could spend more time with him today. She knew he wanted
her to spend more time with him today. But laughter was not on her priority list.
She needed money, and that was why she was going to Jonathan.
Maybe after Jonathan gives me the money, she thought fondly, I’ll go and
see my darling.
She reached Zenith Hostel and entered. She walked down the corridor to
room five, Jonathan’s room, and knocked. A smooth voice asked her to come in
“Thank God he’s home,” Niye muttered as she turned the door handle and
went in.
Jonathan sat up on his bed with a reflex the moment he saw her. Niye
thought she saw something fly from his hands into the nearby kitchen as she
entered. But Jonathan was an absolutely charming fellow. He was what every man
would want their wives to be-beautiful. He was tall, such that Niye, who was
approaching six feet, reached him at the shoulders. His eyes were simply alluring.
Hazel they were; cajouling. He had the looks of one of those fairies they used in the
movies.
The expression on his face now was that of pleasant surprise and nothing
else. This was the first time Niye had been to his place alone. The other times they
Niye never imagined Jonathan would be so happy to see her. If she did, she
would not have come alone. How would he feel when he finally came to realise that
she was not on a casual visit but to ask him for money? Wouldn’t it mean she really
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could not visit him except she wanted a favour? He certainly wouldn’t feel good.
But it was too late now to turn this into a casual visit as registration ended on
Monday.
Maybe some other time, she thought, I’ll pay him a real visit.
“Sit down,” she could hear him say. He was still grinning at her.
Niye sat down on the armchair close by. She had been here before, yet as
always, she felt a stranger. Like the last time she was here, the armchair on which
she now sat, had not been there. The place was changing everyday for good, unlike
hers which was changing every minute for worse. She sighed inwardly.
“Sure?” he asked surprised. “It’s your first time here alone. I should
entertain you.”
proximity of the CD player. But she was still watching him as his hand slid from one
CD to another.
He’s really handsome, Niye thought to herself. No wonder Rachael likes him.
But he’s not funny like Omo. That’s why I like Omo. As I said, everyone has their
blessings…
While Niye was beginning to childishly analyze who between Omo and
Jonathan would make a better husband, she heard him speak again.
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“Really?”
He moved to the bed and sat at its edge, directly opposite Niye.
“Jona,” she began amidst tears, “I’ve not been able to register for the
S.S.C.E because my uncle doesn’t have the money. And registration ends on
“It’s nothing,” he said. And then more affectionately, “Come on, wipe your
tears.”
Niye wiped the tears off her face and smiled. “Thank you, Jona.”
Jona was smiling broadly and staring at her. It was then the Devil entered
him.
A certain kind of fear penetrated Niye’s being as he said those words; she
looked up at him impulsively. Why did he want her to sit by him? And she seemed
to realise for the first time that he was on his boxers’, period. No shirt, no nothing.
And she; she was wearing a long-sleeved print blouse and a denim skirt, the hem of
which stopped inches above her knee as she sat there on the armchair.
26
She found Jonathan’s eyes peering in between her smooth legs. She was
But she really wasn’t that frightened of Jona. He was her best friend’s
her…if that was what he was thinking. She surely would tell Rachael and Rachael
would leave him and he’ll be heartbroken. Heartbreak, Niye was told, was the worst
thing that could ever happen to a human being. It couldn’t be otherwise for
Slowly, Jona got up from the bed and was approaching her. Niye saw the
feet.
As she reached for the door, Jonathan held her by the wrist. It was a simple
He was looking down at the protrusion in his lower being and Niye
understood what he meant. But what was she to do about it? Nothing. She tried to
free her wrist from his grip, but he wouldn’t let go.
me.”
“Scream?” he mocked. “Didn’t you notice the quietness of the hostels? All
students have gone to protest the hike in school fees. I didn’t join them because I
27
Niye felt ice slide down her spine. What was Jonathan thinking? What was he
going to do? The hungry look in his eyes frightened her all the more. Oh God, was
he going to…rape her? Of course he wasn’t. Jona was too gentle, too decent, too
handsome, too-
His other arm slid around her waist and pulled her to him. Then he let go of
her wrist. Her body was pressing against his. Niye could even feel the protrusion
like it had penetrated his boxers’ and her skirt and was touching her raw flesh,
edged between her thighs. Her breath escaped from her nostrils in shreds and her
“I want you, Niye,” Jona pleaded back. “Give us this chance. Let me love
you.”
Before Niye could finish her sentence, Jonathan’s mouth was gliding down
her neck. She could feel something now, but she didn’t know what it was or why
she felt it. But she felt it. She was too afraid to concentrate on her feelings. All she
wanted to do was leave, to flee without looking back. Her hands moved to his head
“What are you doing, Jona?” she muttered as she tried to wrestle free from
But he didn’t let her go, and she couldn’t wrestle free, for his grip was hard
around her waist. And as she was trying to pull him away from her, the beast in him
was awakened. Somehow her blouse fell apart, and since she was wearing no bra
because she had none, his mouth was all over her chest. And it was painful, so
purely painful.
Niye was hitting Jona now, screaming for him to let her go. But he wouldn’t.
He didn’t. Instead, his hand moved to her crotch and pulled away the last and most
important of her defences. He flung her on the bed in one quick moment, and in the
28
next, he was on top of her. His boxers’ had somehow disappeared but Niye could
His whole body weight was on her, and since she was about half his weight,
she could not roll from under him. She could only continue to hit him as hard as she
could. He seemed aggravated, so he caught hold of her wrist and held them above
her head with one hand. Niye tried to free her hands from his grip, but it was
fruitless. He was strong. And she was helpless, hopeless. She was beginning to cry
and to beg him to let her go. He didn’t seem to hear, for he said nothing. She knew
She felt her legs open wider and her skirt hitched to her stomach. Then she
felt pain in the real sense of the word. She shut her eyes and began to scream, as
Jonathan continued his business in her lower half. The scream only seemed to make
him more savage the way he attacked. Gradually the pain subsided the more
still again and buried his face in her neck. All movement ceased; it was over. Niye
knew it was over. Jonathan let go of the hands he had held above her head, but
Niye did not hit him. She didn’t even move. But she was crying. Who was this that
The monster rolled from on top her to the edge of the bed near the wall, and
she saw grimly the blood that had smeared her crotch. Jonathan saw it too. Then he
Niye did not say anything. She wiped the last traces of tears off her face and
“I’m terribly sorry this happened,” Jona said and ran through an inner door.
He soon returned with a roll of toilet paper. “Take. Wipe off the blood. Or do I help
you?”
29
Niye took the roll in silence and wiped her virginity off her thighs. As she
picked up her clothing from the ground and began to put them back on, Jonathan
“Oh yes,” Jonathan said, like he had just remembered something of great
import. He moved swiftly to the bedside drawer and brought out an envelope which
Niye reluctantly took the envelope and looked in it. Then she brought out
the notes. There were ten of them, five hundred naira notes, of which Niye took six
and put the rest back in the envelope. Then she handed it back to him.
Niye let the envelope fall to the floor as he was unwilling to take it anytime
in the near future, and approached the door to go back home. She wouldn’t see her
“Niye, I really did not know you were a virgin,” Jonathan began his
Niye barely heard him and was shocked the way he spoke. Her friend’s
boyfriend had just raped her and still had the guts to ask her to be his girl! Wasn’t
Niye wanted to say something, but she was too numb to speak. So she
AFTER NIYE left, Jonathan began to ponder what he had done. They had done, he
But he had raped her, and that was wrong. Everybody knew he was wrong
except him himself. Or perhaps he knew and just pretended he didn’t. Truly though,
he didn’t know she was a virgin. If he did, maybe he wouldn’t have taken her the
30
way he had. He wouldn’t even have taken her at all if not for that pornographic
magazine he had been reading, the one he had flung into the kitchen, when she
entered.
It had heightened his arousal and he desperately needed an outlet for the
pressure that had built up in him. Then she had presented herself. What else could
he have done? And then, her dressing had been inviting. He could see between her
legs for goodness’ sakes! How then was he to avoid making love to such a nubile
damsel?
Again, maybe she wanted him too. At least she wanted the money. Maybe
she had thought he wouldn’t be willing to help, so she had dressed up provocatively
to seduce him. All he did was save her the labour of seduction. Didn’t you see she
still demanded the money even after they had made love? She should immediately
have fled from his sight. Still, if only he knew she was a virgin…
But for goodness’ sakes, why didn’t she tell him? If only she had muttered it.
Perhaps she craved him so much and feared it might turn him off should she
Shove things, it wasn’t really that bad. He would have her. Now, he knew he
wanted her more than he did Rachael and that his other girlfriend. He even thought
he loved her in a way. She was fertile, nubile. She was the kind of thing he wants.
And he wouldn’t really have to struggle to get her. He knew that girls who
esteemed virginity, and then lost theirs, would cling to the one who had taken it
away from them like a baby ape clinging to its mother. That was how he had won
his former girlfriend. When Rachael had come along, he had asked her to leave him
alone, but she wouldn’t because he had taken away her virginity. He didn’t think
Niye would be different. She would come after him soon and she’ll be his. All his.
31
FOUR
N iye was crying. She had not stopped crying since she returned from
Jonathan’s place. The treasure she had hidden for such a long time now had
been forcefully taken away from her. And by no one but one whom she had trusted.
Why, Jonathan? Why? Niye’s pale mind roamed her brain helplessly for an
answer. She found none. But she could see Jonathan the first time they had met. He
32
had been so gentle, so kind, so friendly, so brotherly. Then suddenly, he had raped
her. Niye was almost going crazy trying to find an answer to the question, “Why?”
It was because she was poor, she concluded. It was because her uncle had
no money. It was because she had gone to him for help. It was because her father
had died.
Her life was crumbling now, she told her father, and ever since he was gone.
All her plans, her dreams; they were gathering in shambles. Wouldn’t it be better if
she were dead? If she had died along with her father? Wouldn’t it be better than
Niye wept bitterly as the whole event of previous hours seeped through her
Niye looked in the direction of Osato who was standing by her bed now,
Niye managed to sit up and wipe the tears off her face.
“Are you?” The little girl was peering into her elder cousin’s face.
“No.”
“Why?”
33
Osato might have been trying to help the only way she could, but in truth,
she was doing more harm than good. That she was sad was only more reason for
“But you-”
The little girl’s mouth snapped shut in surprise and fear. Had her beloved
Niye spoken to her that way before? She could not remember. Something was
wrong; but as she was in no position to find out what it was, Osato turned and left
the room.
Niye regretted her action-the way she had barked at Osato. But of what help
would Osato be? Her young, innocent mind would not understand what it meant to
be raped, especially when it pertained to your first sexual experience. Niye sighed.
Niye opened her drawer and brought out the three thousand naira Jonathan
had given her. She smiled despite herself. At least now she would take the S.S.C.E.
At least now she could have a future. At least now she had hope.
And Jonathan; she would ruin him. She would go to Rachael and tell her
what he had done. And Rachael would break his heart and he’ll be doomed forever.
She put the money back in the drawer, and wiped the tears off her face.
Then she got up and walked into the sitting room. It was then pangs of guilt stung
Immediately, Niye rushed to where the girl lay, and carried her in her arms.
34
As she continued to address Osato soothingly, and as Osato was beginning
to stop crying, there was a knock at the door. Niye laid the girl gently on the sofa,
It was Omo who had knocked, but he hadn’t smiled at Niye when she
embarrassment, fear and guilt, had crept into her the moment she saw Omo. She
felt like she had somehow betrayed him. She felt like she owed hin an explanation,
an apology.
“You must come with me,” Omo said, ignoring her invitation. “I don’t know
“She’s been crying since she came back from town,” Omo answered rather
impatiently. “And she wouldn’t say what the problem is. She was talking about
Niye immediately called Osato and took her to their neighbour’s apartment.
Then she went with Omo to see Rachael. She was surprised how uncomfortable she
was, walking with Omo; not that it was her first time walking with him; but this
time, she was fidgeting and was feeling pains in her conscience.
But she walked on with him, seeking a reason to laugh at the things he said
as they walked, and finding none, even till they reached his house. She went
straight to Rachael’s room. The sight of Rachael Niye saw frightened her and made
35
Rachael was sitting on the bed, her back resting on the wall. Her knees were
facing the ceiling, her hands clasped around her shin. Her hair was flying in all
direction, and her eyes were remote and expressionless. Her lips were pouted.
It seemed she didn’t even notice Niye, for she was staring darkly in front of
her. No tears.
Niye could trace black lines of anger in Rachael’s voice. But she was yet to
“Jonathan.”
Niye’s mind flickered on and off. “I-I thought you said he loved you.”
Tears began to flow down Rachael’s cheeks. But the undiluted anger
Rachael went on to explain what had happened when she had gone to
Jonathan’s place earlier. She had simply gone to request the money on Niye’s
bahalf, she began, when she noticed the staleness of the air. She thought he had
been working out in his room, but she was terribly wrong.
“…Then he just called me ‘Rachael’ and said it was over,” she recounted
bitterly.
She thought she had not heard him correctly. But as she noticed the red
piece of toilet paper on the floor, she understood the staleness of the air and heard
36
“I immediately went on to confront him on my findings,” Rachael continued.
He had laughed at her sardonically and told her how much of a fool she was
to think he loved her. She was good at nothing, he had explained, and was too
officious.
“He said he had found someone who was better than me in every way,”
Rachael narrated, “and that if I had come in earlier, I would have seen them in
bed.” Rachael sniffed before she continued. “The girl must have been a virgin. I
In anger, Rachael had slapped him across the face. She could have thrust a
knife in his heart if she found one close by. But Jonathan did not slap her back. He
had simply opened the door and asked her to leave. She could not stand the sight
“I don’t blame him now,” Rachael finalised. “That virgin girl must have
seduced him to make love to her. I wish I could see her; then I’ll crush her to pieces
Niye shuddered at the thought of being crushed to pieces. All the while as
Rachael was narrating, she found herself swallowing stone over an over again, and
she felt thousands of snakes slithering up and down her spine. Now that Rachael
Pain, anger, fear and bitterness accumulated in her stomach. What now was
she to do? She was the virgin girl. Should she tell her friend so? Would Rachael
believe she had been raped by Jonathan and not the other way round? It pained her
that her friend, like she, was in pains. She was angry that Jonathan would not be
heartbroken. Instead, he had comfortably shattered two hearts. There was fear at
the possibility of her being found out as the man-thief. And she was bitter, for
37
Then again, there was guilt. Niye felt responsible for her friend’s sorrows. If
only she had not gone to Jona alone, she thought, Rachael would be happy now. But
shove things, she would make up for it. Niye would go to Jonathan again…for her
friend’s sake. It was the least she could do. She wouldn’t go now anyway. She hated
Jona now, more than the Devil himself. She would kill him if she saw him now. She
shouldn’t go now.
Now, her friend was crying. Niye could not help but cry too. Slowly she
moved to Rachael and took her in her arms, wiping the tears off her face like
“He broke my heart,” Rachael reminded Niye bitterly. “Another girl has taken
“I wish I was like you, Niye,” she said. “I wish I didn’t have to fall in love. I
consciousness. She was no longer a virgin; she was no longer who she used to be.
She had lost her treasure; she had lost her pride.
And the more she comforted Rachael, the more she yearned to be
comforted.
IT WAS about six o’clock when Niye heard a knock at the front door again. She
knew it was not her uncle and it was not Rachael. So, who could it be? She
wondered.
Wearily she rose from the sofa where she had been hopelessly trying to
sleep, and went to the door. She opened the door, and behold, it was Omo who had
knocked again. Her heart skipped three beats at the sight of him solemn. What had
38
“May I come in?” Omo asked, forcing a smile to his lips.
He entered and sat on the floor that was always bare. Niye shut the door
Niye was confused the way he spoke. “What are you saying?”
Omo rose from the floor to sit by her on the sofa. That fear penetrated Niye
again; but she didn’t run away. She couldn’t run away from Omo.
“Niye, the moment I saw you when I came here earlier today,” Omo began,
Niye was relieved that this was about her and not Rachael, and felt herself
suddenly full of gratitude and affection towards Omo that he was here because of
her, because he cared for her. But she was fine, wasn’t she? He shouldn’t have
bothered to come.
He took her hands in his. She felt the gentle warmth of his touch flow from
her palms, even to her brain. Instantly, she remembered her father.
“Don’t lie to me,” he told her. “Haven’t our friendship grown beyond that?”
Niye suddenly found reasons to begin to cry again, and she knew for some
Omo hunched his shoulders and shut his eyes so tightly, that one would
imagine they’d never open again. He could have fainted, for what he had heard had
“I went to him for help,” Niye continued, “and he forced me. And because of
39
Omo placed his fingers on her lips to stop the words that were to proceed.
Then he pulled her closer to him, so that her head was resting on his chest. Still she
Niye now increased her pitch of sobbing, like he had just told her how much
“Omo, I didn’t want this,” she said. “I wanted to be a virgin till I got married.
And I can’t tell Rachael ‘cos she won’t believe me. I tried Omo, believe me, I tried to
Omo didn’t say anything now. He just held her close and let her cry; let her
talk.
“Omo, I’m tired,” Niye cried profusely. “I’m tired of my life. Will there be no
time when I’ll be truly happy? Will I live all my life in tears? Look at me, Omo. All my
life, my dreams; they’re falling apart. I feel like dying, Omo. Now.”
“I understand,” he said soothingly. “But it’s not the end of the world. Look at
me.” He lifted her face to meet his gaze. Niye was staring into his eyes, searching
all over it for reasons to live, to believe her case was not hopeless.
“It’s not over,” he told her. “Things happen for reasons we might not readily
appreciate. But we have to look beyond them and see life, the bright side of life.
And even if we can’t fulfil all our dreams, someday we will fulfil the ones that
matter.”
He was barely older than her, he hadn’t spoken much; but Niye found
herself being comforted by his words, trusting them with all her heart. She
wondered if this was the clown speaking or someone else. She could see life and
hope and…she could also see pain in his eyes. He seemed to be distressed, like he
40
And he was. If only Niye knew what he had been through in his life that was
a little longer than hers, then she would have no choice but to stop crying and
begin to comfort him. But he wasn’t going to tell her. He had decided long ago to
live beyond the pains and the wounds he had gotten so early in his life-just when
he was ten.
So he held her in his arms and comforted her, speaking softly to her just like
her father always did when she hurt herself, until eventually, she fell asleep.
FIVE
N iye was happy. It was Monday now and she had just registered for the
S.S.C.E and she was happy. She would go home now and begin to study, she
told herself. And she would come out in flying colours. She knew she would.
As she continued her journey home, thoughts of Omo floated to the surface
of Niye’s mind: how he had held her close and comforted her, how he had spoken
to her. To her now, Omo was nothing but amazement. He was about a year older
than her, yet he had spoken like one of those elders in the village. He simply
reminded her of her father. And then there was that pain in his eyes as he had
spoken to her. What was it that pained him so? What experiences had he had that
Niye looked up and saw her elderly neighbour in the porch of the apartment
upstairs.
“Ah, Iye, good afternoon,” she greeted back. “How are you feeling now?”
41
The old woman lifted her hands skywards in genuine appreciation of the one
far above.
“I can see it,” Niye concurred. “You’re looking stronger than ever.”
“Okay, my dear.”
Niye would go in now, take a quick bath, and then go to bring Osato from
school. When she got back, she would go and see how Rachael was doing. Or was
she intending to go to their apartment because of Omo? Niye didn’t know. Then she
would come home, eat, and sleep. When she woke up, she would…
Niye suddenly noticed an envelope sticking out from under the door. She
picked it up and looked inquiringly at it. To her surprise it was addressed to her. And
Might very well be from one of those stupid boys off the street, Niye
concluded. Then she opened the door and entered. She began to open the seal of
the envelope as she sank into the sofa. To her further surprise it was a letter from
“How are you today? I hope you are fine. I hope you’re not still angry
such to happen. In fact, I don’t know what suddenly came over me that
“I love you Niye, and I’ll do nothing to hurt you. I’ll do whatever it
takes to prove my love for you and show you how sorry I am. I promise it
will never happen again. Please forgive me, and come back to my waiting
arms.
With love,
42
Jonathan.”
Niye sighed and began folding the letter neatly. On a good day, she would
rip such letters to pieces; but today she found herself folding this one neatly. And as
she was yet making up her mind what to make of the letter, there was a knock at
the door. She was too lazy to answer the door so she told whoever it was that had
It was a sturdy, heavily bearded fellow that entered. Niye shuddered at the
sight of the person she had let into her uncle’s apartment. When he smiled at her,
she couldn’t help but shudder more. He looked like a rogue, if anything, and Niye
He took his time to look around the nearly empty sitting room before he
spoke.
He would have asked for a seat, but he noticed there was only one sofa in
the sitting room and Niye was sitting on it. He didn’t bother.
mechanically.
A wave of relief and anger surged through Niye’s veins. What did Jonathan
want with her now? Why had he sent this thug to her? She would have walked him
out of her apartment, but on second thought, she decided to let him be. She should
“Please sit down,” she offered, rising from the sofa, the tone of her voice
suggesting that she would only be too glad to see him leave.
43
The young man didn’t seem to mind. He thanked her and sat on the seat
offered him. Niye went into the kitchen and returned with a low stool on which she
“Yes, you said you were here on Jonathan’s behalf,” she urged him to
continue.
Jonathan, and I know him to be a very happy and animated fellow. But these few
days however, his moods have descended drastically. As a concerned loved one, I
had had to interrogate him, and he told me what had transpired between you two.
“He is ashamed of himself,” Tamuno put in promptly. “He cannot stand the
sight of you. He is aware that he has lost your most esteemed respect and trust,
“Well, I can’t stand the sight of him either,” Niye told Tamuno. “I’d kill him if I
saw him.”
“I am,” Niye replied. “I hate him more than the Devil himself; and I have
The young man put his hand in his pocket and produced a handkerchief
with which he wiped away tiny beads of sweat that had formed on his forehead.
Wasn’t this getting harder than he had anticipated? Hadn’t the fine speech and
impeccable English which he had taken time to register upstairs been enough to
“You have all legal right and moral justification to hate him,” Tamuno said.
“I would do the same if I were you. But he is sincerely sorry. Believe me, he is; and
44
Niye had no reason to believe what Tamuno was telling her. All he had
spoken seemed to have been thoroughly rehearsed. But she thought about the
letter. Maybe he was really sorry. Jonathan was too gentle to lay a hand on a
female. Maybe something had really come over him that day. She should forgive
him. If she didn’t, how then was she to go to him on Rachael’s behalf? She would
forgive him, but as to what he had done, she could never forget.
Niye heaved and took in a deep breath. Then she exhaled slowly, before she
spoke.
“That is most-”
“And tell him I’ll never forget what he has done to me,” Niye continued. “And
The young man thanked her and promised to convey her message in her
own words, then he left. Niye took a quick bath, and went to bring Osato from
school.
**** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** ****
And on Saturday, Niye made up her mind it was time to see Jonathan again. At
least now she could see him and not feel an urge to murder him. She still hated him
She had taken Osato to their neighbour and was on Edo Street again,
headed for Jonathan’s place. But what about Omo-should she tell him of her plans?
Or should he go with her? She concluded it was unnecessary as she was no longer a
Niye reached Zenith Hostel and knocked on room five, like she had done the
previous Saturday. A smooth voice asked her to enter. How she hated the voice. She
entered and sat on the armchair, like she had done the previous Saturday. And
Jonathan seemed happy to see her, like he had been the previous Saturday. But she
45
was not here on a casual visit. She was here for serious business. Her friend’s
Niye shot him an angry look. Her eyes were quick to notice he was not on
his boxers’ this time, but was wearing a pair of denim trousers. And her ears were
also alert to pick up sounds coming from other rooms in the hostel. She nodded in
“My friend’s happiness,” she said. “I want to know why you have broken
Rachael’s heart.”
“I broke her heart because I love you, Niye,” he said plainly. “Rachael
“I don’t love you,” Niye responded instantly, succinctly, tersely. “But Rachael
does, with all her heart. Please Jona, love her back.”
“I have tried, Niye,” he informed her. “I have tried to kill this feeling I have
for you, but I have failed. I love you, Niye. It’s you I want.”
“No, I-”
Niye stopped abruptly as she saw Jonathan rise to his feet. It was then she
noticed the denim trousers were loose around his waist. It simply slid down his legs
as he got up, and he stepped out of it. He was naked now, completely naked.
She got up, but her legs were trembling again. Jonathan grabbed her around
46
Niye made to scream, but his hand closed around her mouth just in time. His
other hand found the zipper of her skirt and zipped it down, allowing the skirt to
slide down to her ankles. He pushed her to the wall and glued his body to hers.
His hand was still closed around her mouth, so that all her efforts at
to mean anything.
And since she was half his size, his weight was enough to pin her to the wall.
And he forced himself on her, like he had done the previous Saturday. When he was
Niye left him in haste, vowing to hate him all her life and kill him when she
had the slightest opportunity. She left him in tears, knowing that her virginity had
been taken away from her the second time by one and the same person.
47
SIX
It was about two and half months after Jonathan had forced her, in the month of
July after the S.S.C.E, when she had woken up one morning, feeling dizzy and
nauseous. The next morning the same thing had happened, and then the one after
Then she realized startlingly, a few days ago, that she had missed her
period, twice consecutively. She concluded that she must have started menopause
early. Then, that feeling of nausea returned; this time, not only in the mornings, but
So, the day before yesterday, she had picked up her clinic card and gone for
check-up. She had explained the matters on ground to the doctor who had then
ordered some medical tests to be carried out on her. And when she had gone today
to collect the test results, she was told she was pregnant. Now, she was back home
and thinking. She should be crying, but she wasn’t. Why would she? She could not
be pregnant. There were those who had sex everyday in every week in every year,
and yet they didn’t get pregnant. So why should she be pregnant? For crying out
loud, she had only had sex twice. And she had been forced those two times. The
Niye would go now to Rachael and tell her, her experiences. If Rachael said
she was pregnant, then she really was. But if otherwise, she would happily come
back home and continue the wait for her S.S.C.E. results.
48
She got up quickly, washed her face, and set out for Rachael’s place. As she
stepped into Edo Street, she prayed earnestly not to be approached by on of these
“opposition sex” off the street. Since Jonathan had raped her, Niye had found it
increasingly difficult to say plain “No” to the “opposition sex”. She had simply lost
her confidence. She felt they could somehow see through her and figure out that
she was no longer a virgin; that she was like every other girl, that she had no pride
She reached Rachael’s home and knocked on the front door. The door didn’t
open. She knocked again, and again; and still there was no response. Omo wasn’t
home, she remembered. He should be in school as it was yet Monday morning. But
Rachael should be home as they had both taken the S.S.C.E and were through with
secondary school.
Niye knocked again; the door did not open. Rachael must have gone
somewhere, she concluded, so no one was home. She should go home. As she
turned to leave, the door slowly opened, and there Rachael was standing in the
doorway. She must have just finished taking her bath, for a towel was strapped
“I thought you were never going to open the door,” Niye queried. “I’ve been
Rachael laughed.
“Market,” came the succint reply as Rachael sat by her friend. “It’s really
amazing how life is,” Rachael said. “Just one moment we were praying for school to
49
be over. And now I’m so lonely at home that I’d start school all over again if I
could.”
“You were so lonely that you could not come and see me,” Niye countered.
“Or have you found yourself one bobby that you’re spending all your time with?”
Rachael laughed.
“Niye, you know I don’t want to have any more boyfriends,” she said. “I
The smile on Niye’s lips vanished instantly as she remembered why she was
Rachael gave her a sideways glance that was nothing but curiosity. “What
business?”
“I’m listening.”
All the words were stuck in Niye’s throat. She opened her mouth to speak,
but no sound came forth. She needed some time to think of what exactly to say.
She mustn’t get Jonathan involved. She mustn’t get crushed. She needed time…
“Why don’t you just go and put on your clothes first?” Niye said.
Rachael looked at herself and realized she was still in her bath towel.
“You’re right,” she said, finding a reason to laugh. “Someone might just
So now, what was Niye going to say? That she feared she was pregnant
because she had slept with Jonathan and because the doctor had said so?
“That virgin girl must have seduced him to make love to her. I wish I could
see her; then I’ll crush her to pieces for laying her hands on my man.”
But it was months now. Rachael must have forgotten those wild, angry
statements she had made. She wouldn’t crush the virgin girl to pieces. She
50
wouldn’t crush Niye. Besides, Niye did not seduce Jonathan; Jonathan had raped
Rachael stepped back into the sitting room, now wearing a pair of flared
trousers and a sleeveless top. Niye watched her as she returned to sit by her.
“Okay, let’s look at something,” she began. “If a girl misses her period twice
consecutively and wakes up in the morning feeling to vomit, does it mean she’s
pregnant?”
“And does that girl happen to be you?” Rachael asked in suspicion, her face
“Those are the normal signs of pregnancy,” she said. “But in your case, I
Rachael’s face turned in Niye’s direction again, and the expression written
on it was pure bewilderment, especially when she knew that Niye had no boyfriend.
“When?”
“The doctor said I was pregnant, but I didn’t believe it because…” Niye
ended her sentence halfway as she noticed Rachael sinking into the sofa. Was she
collapsing?
51
“Niye, you have killed me.” Rachael’s voice was unstable now. “What have
you done?”
Rachael seemed to remember something and turned to her again. “Did the
“No.”
Rachael’s eyes shut tightly, the way Omo’s eyes had shut when Niye had
“I think the doctor’s right,” Rachael whispered, her eyes still shut.
Niye’s mind suddenly went blank. She didn’t know what best to do in the
instant: to cry or die? So she did neither. Thousands of thoughts flew across her
face. Her uncle would disown her. Her education would become history. Her future
would be bleak. Her life would be hopeless, destroyed and finished, worse than
death…
It was then she appreciated the gravity of the situation and broke down in
She rose to her feet and began jumping and rotating around a spot like a
robot commanded to move in all directions at the same time. Her hand was lifted
up to the ceiling like she was expecting to lay hold on something that was
everywhere at the same time. She was turning and twisting like a ballet dancer,
Rachael knew it was time to act, before her friend went completely mad.
She got up and grabbed Niye by the waist. Niye protested and struggled for her
independence. Why was Rachael holding her? She should be left to lament and cry.
She should be left to die. She should be left to end her life, here and now.
52
“Niye, calm down,” Rachael pleaded. “People will soon start coming to ask
Niye continued to try to break loose from Rachael’s grip. But the older girl
was firm. It was all she could do; she needed her friend alive. Niye was restless, but
she could only struggle for so long. She became drained, and her tense body
SEVEN
N iye’s head was on Rachael’s shoulder now, as one of Rachael’s arms kept
her close. They were sitting on a sofa. She was no longer crying.
53
“God will make a way.”
“He will.”
“And all you have to do now is confront the bastard that got you pregnant.”
Niye shuddered.
“It’s past now,” she said. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Then there was silence again. Niye was wondering what Rachael was
thinking. Had she already figured out it was Jonathan that had slept with her?
“But who was this guy?” Rachael asked. “We should teach him a lesson.”
Niye looked away. She didn’t want her friend to see the fresh tears that were
“Rachael, just forget who the guy is, please,” Niye begged.
But it only made Rachael more determined to know who the guy that had
And even again, and again; until Niye was forced to conclude it was no point
keeping the secret, secret anymore. Some way or the other, Rachael was always
Niye shut her eyes and expected the worst-expected to be crushed. But she
54
“Jonathan,” Rachael whispered.
Niye didn’t say anything. She was busy imagining what was happening in
Rachael’s mind.
Niye could locate points of anger and bitterness in Rachael’s voice. For
crying out loud, why didn’t she tell this to Rachael before? Why had she thought
she could keep it all to herself? Why did she have to tell Rachael now?
“So you made Jona break my heart,” Rachael continued her allegations.
Niye thought it was time she spoke. She knew Rachael had been calm,
expecting her to say something for herself. And whatever she said now would be
“That virgin girl must have seduced him to make love to her. I wish I could
see her; then I’ll crush her to pieces for laying her hands on my man.”
“I didn’t steal your man,” Niye began her defence, willing her voice to be
Niye was hurt. But still, she had to continue, to finish her defence.
“That Saturday, I was at his place to ask for the S.S.C.E. registration fee,”
Ugly memories were now being catapulted to the forefront of Niye’s mind,
“He raped you or you seduced him?” Rachael asked, still calm, ignoring
Niye’s tears.
Niye frowned, not in anger, but in pain; for her best friend, for the first time,
55
“He raped me,” Niye said, “like an animal.”
It was one thing not to believe a person and it was definitely another to call
them liars.
“Me?” Niye pointed to herself. It was impossible for Rachael to call her a liar.
Niye realised she was the only Niye in the room and Rachael was talking to
“God! Niye, I can’t believe you did this to me,” Rachael continued, perhaps
unaware that Niye had started saying something. “You of all people? You made Jona
break my heart?”
Tears were flowing down Rachael’s cheeks, and Niye felt guilty. She couldn’t
find words with which to defend herself anymore. All she wanted was for Rachael to
stop crying.
“I’m sorry, Rachael,” she heard herself say. “Please don’t cry.”
“I said I’m sorry,” Niye apologised. “Please forget about the past.”
Rachael’s entire being began to tremble. Niye knew what that meant, and
The crush.
“Niye, please leave,” Rachael said, her face radiating enough heat to burn
“Rachael, I-”
“Go away,” Rachael said again, “before I do something we’ll both regret.”
“I didn’t-”
“Get out!”
56
And there was silence. Niye’s face turned to the ground; she shut her eyes.
Tears accumulated beneath her eye lids: tears of pain, of bitterness, of sadness, of
guilt, of fear, of misery. She knew it was time to leave. She had to leave.
“Alright,” she whispered. Then she forced her eyes open and lifted up her
face. “I’ll leave.” She rose from the sofa and moved to the door. Then she heard
Niye turned to face Rachael, sniffed and wiped the tears off her face, as if to
“If I as much as see you within a hundred yards of this building, I’ll crush you
Niye stood there staring into Rachael’s eyes. There was nothing there now
but raw hate and contempt, in a place where there used to be love and sympathy.
Niye didn’t know how she was going to leave when memories of Rachael occupied
the largest space in her mind. The good times they had had together. The times
Rachael had been there for her and by her. The times Rachael had held her close
and told her all was well. The times they had laughed together, cried together. The
times she had stared at Rachael’s picture, and concluded that she would be nothing
So this was how it was going to end. Their relationship would be severed
because of a man. This was how they were going to be friends forever.
AS SOON as she left Rachael’s place, Niye decided it was time she told Jonathan
matters arising, the consequences of his cruel actions. She wondered what his
reaction would be at the sight of her. Since he had forced her the second time, Niye
had never been to Jonathan’s place and she had dismissed the numerous
57
emissaries he had sent to plead on his behalf, even Tamuno. She could only wonder
She reached room five, Zenith Hostel, and knocked. That smooth voice
“Jesus! It’s a lie!” Jonathan screamed, flying to a sitting position on the bed.
Niye’s dazed mind began to try to remember if she had a twin. She couldn’t
remember any.
“I came here for serious business,” Niye said blandly, and sat on the
armchair.
“Really!” Jonathan said, still soaked in excitement. “I can’t wait to hear it.”
“You forced me twice,” Niye corrected. “Now see the result of your actions.”
Niye could not hold back the tears that had formed in her eyes; she let them
fall freely. Jonathan too seemed hurt. Wasn’t it enough that he had taken away her
He was pensive as Niye cried. What in the instant was the best thing for him
to do? Slowly he rose to his feet and moved to the armchair. Then he sat on the
edge.
Niye did not stop crying; neither did she protest his nearness to her. She had
lost Rachael now and she couldn’t see Omo again. But still she needed someone to
58
tell her all would be well. And Jonathan here was doing just that. Why should she
protest?
“I hate you, Jona,” she said. “Look what you’ve done to me.”
“Please baby, I’m sorry,” Jona said. “I didn’t mean to. I love you.”
Niye didn’t know what to say, so she just kept on crying. But she still hated
“Listen,” Jona began. “You’re going to have the baby, okay? I’m in my final
Niye automatically stopped crying; not that she was relieved, but was just
surprised.
“Yes, I will,” Jonathan replied, brushing the tears off her cheeks. “I love you.”
Niye did not know what to think or do or say. But maybe Jonathan really
loved her. Otherwise, why would he want to marry her? Maybe he was really sorry
for what he had done. Maybe she shouldn’t really hate him so much. Maybe this;
“I-I don’t know, Jona,” she replied. “I’m confused right now.”
“Marrying me would be the best decision you’ve ever made,” he said. “I’ll
make all your dreams come true. I’ll give you all you ever want. I’ll love you like I’ve
Niye still did not know what to say; her head was still on his body. His hand
moved to her face, and then down her neck, and into her blouse. Niye knew what
was coming, but somehow, she didn’t flee. Perhaps if she did, he would change his
mind on marrying her. But she didn’t want to have sex with him. Not today. Not
now.
“Please Jona, let’s not do this,” she said. “Let us wait till we’re married.”
59
“Why wait?” Jona whispered in her ear. “We’ll still be husband and wife soon,
Niye thought he had a point. It didn’t really make any difference, did it? She
should just give him this chance. Deep down though, she knew she didn’t want to.
So she closed her eyes and let her thoughts wander afar even as Jonathan’s hungry
EIGHT
A nd he had made love to her. Now when Niye was back at home, when it was
night, she didn’t know whether or not to regret letting Jonathan in. For one
thing, she had sinned against God because she had willingly committed fornication.
But what else could she have done in the circumstance? She had had no other
choice.
He knew that she did not want such to happen. He knew she was forced to
willingly let Jonathan in. He knew Jonathan would not marry her if she did not let
him in. And if he did not marry her, she had no life. Even if he did marry her, the life
she would have was uncertain. God knew all that; so he would understand.
But Jonathan was not the man Niye would have wanted to marry her. No
normal woman would ever want to marry a man who had raped her. Niye just hated
Jonathan. No matter how hard she tried to like him, she still hated him, even after
this last contact. And she knew she had disappointed and embarrassed him in this
60
last act of intimacy. She knew he had hoped that the lovemaking would be pleasant
for them both, but that was no to be. She had been as stiff as a pole, letting her
mind wander to her father’s graveside. It was only when Jonathan had rolled off
from on top of her and was shaking her gently that she realised he was done.
So what kind of marriage would exist between them? What kind of bonds
Niye did not know. But she had heard that even marriages built on love sometimes
collapsed.
Still, she had no choice. She would have to marry Jonathan, at least if only
because he took away her virginity. More importantly, it might well be the only
decision that would keep her alive. But she knew she didn’t want to.
Tears now began to roll down her cheeks as she remembered the life she
had dreamed of having when her father was alive. Now, seven years after his
death, she almost certainly had none. What life could she have when she had lost
Rachael? Why must she lose all those that meant the most to her? Why was she so
doomed?
“Epa, please come back,” she heard herself muttering. “I need you.”
She was lost now, she told her father. Completely lost.
She continued crying in the darkness of her room. Then suddenly, the light
went on. Niye looked in the direction of the switch and saw Osato staring back at
her.
Niye sat up and beckoned Osato to come to her. Osato went to her and took
her place on her elder cousin’s laps. Then Niye wrapped her arms around the girl.
61
“Why are you crying?” Osato asked again.
“I’m not happy, Osato,” Niye replied. “One man made me unhappy.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
Osato was quiet for a while, then suddenly she looked up at Niye.
Niye could not figure out how Osato’s miniature mind could discern that she
was pregnant, so she was staring at her in disbelief. When did Osato become so
precocious?
“You said it yourself,” Osato replied. “But that shouldn’t make you cry. You
should be happy you’ll have your own child soon; and me, I’ll have a younger
sister.”
Niye was forced to smile, despite herself, at the little girl’s reasoning. She
wished the girl was right. She wished it was that simple.
“I’m not happy because I’m not supposed to be pregnant yet,” Niye began.
“I’m supposed to graduate from the university, and get married, before I get
pregnant. Now I’ll have to leave school to take care of the baby, and I don’t even
“Okay.”
62
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Niye found solace in the girl that was on her laps. She hadn’t lost
everything, she thought. She still had Osato. She cuddled the girl more tightly, for
this was all she had now, and could not afford to lose.
**** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** ****
By the time Mr Efosa Esosa had finished eating, and taking his bath, and was
relaxing in front of his apartment, Osato was asleep and Niye thought it the right
She knew her uncle might react rashly at first. He might even threaten to kill
her. But once he knew who was responsible, and his promise to marry her, he
probably would begin smiling. For one thing, Jonathan’s parents were rich and if he
married Niye, that wealth would spread into her family. And that was enough reason
for her uncle to be happy with her for getting pregnant for Jonathan.
Niye found herself being thankful to God that it was the son of a rich man
who had raped her. What if he had been poor…like her uncle? What hope had she
then?
She took in a deep breath, mumbled some prayers, and went outside to
meet her uncle. Then she sat by him. He didn’t seem to notice her. He was staring
He didn’t answer her. Did he even hear her? His whistling did not stop;
neither did his face turn in her direction. Maybe he didn’t hear her. But Niye knew
better than to call him again. She waited patiently till he was done whistling, then
63
Niye tried to find her tongue, but she could not. It had simply slid down her
throat. She couldn’t even remember why she was sitting by her uncle in the first
place.
The harshness of his voice this second time simply propelled the words out
of Niye’s mouth.
Niye looked away from him and swallowed hard, expecting the worst-
expecting to be crushed. But she was not crushed. She was not even touched, at
His voice was surprisingly calm and Niye could only wonder why. Suddenly,
he began to laugh. Startled, Niye turned to look at him. Hope he was not going
mad.
“I knew it,” he said. “I knew you have been sleeping around with all the boys
in the neighbourhood. Now you see the result? It is written, my dear, ‘whatever you
Niye was hurt at her uncle’s statement. She was hurt because she was
reaping what she had not sown-what she had not even thought of sowing. And God
knows she had not been sleeping with all the boys in the village. God knows she
had slept with only one man and that one had forced her.
“Epa, I’ve not been sleeping around,” Niye said in solemn defence. “I was
forced.”
“Will you shut your mouth or I help you shut it!” Mr. Esosa barked, lifting up
64
“You were forced,” he continued; “whom did you tell? Answer me; whom did
you tell?”
Niye was crying now. “Epa, I was afraid to tell you because I thought…”
“Epa, I went to a friend to help me with the money for my S.S.C.E,” Niye
Mr. Efosa felt something that made his lifted hand fall lifelessly to his side.
“Epa, I…I don’t know,” Niye replied. “Epa, believe me. I have never slept
with any man except him. I wanted to be a virgin till I got married. I was forced,
Niye cried bitterly, and Mr. Efosa believed her. He too was hurt. And now,
like many times before, he blamed himself for being poor. If he had had the money,
Niye would have registered for the S.S.C.E without stress. It was because of him
Niye did not stop crying, so he moved closer to her and cuddled her like she
was his own daughter. He cuddled her for the first time in seven years. And for the
first time in seven years, he felt truly responsible for her. For the first time in seven
The more Niye cried, the more Mr. Efosa blamed himself for her tears. For
goodness’ sakes, why didn’t he borrow the money for her at all cost? Now look what
he had done.Tears were beginning to roll down his cheeks even before he realised
it. When he did, he quickly brushed them away. And anger began to radiate within
65
him. The least he could do now was make sure that the idiot who got his beloved
daughter pregnant did not go unpunished. He should teach the fool a lesson.
It was about ten o’clock when Niye and her uncle reached Zenith Hostel, and
made their way to room five. Niye knocked gently, and the smooth voice asked her
Mr. Efosa had planned to pounce on the idiot and give him the beating of his
life. But that plan was instantly nullified the moment he stepped into Jonathan’s
room. The idiot was not an ordinary idiot-he was a wealthy idiot. And Mr. Efosa
would be a bigger idiot to lay a hand on the son of a rich man. What if he were
thrown in jail? Where would he get the money to bail himself out?
“You don’t know me, Jona?” she asked. “Are you denying me?”
66
Jonathan peered at her for a while, and then his face lighted up as he
“You were here this morning and we had sex,” Jonathan continued. “So what
“Excuse me?” Jona countered. “We had sex this morning and you didn’t
Niye could not say anything. She was moping at her uncle, and then at
“And by the way, sir,” Jonathan said to her uncle. “My name is not Jonathan.
I am Eriso.”
He handed his nearby student ID card to Mr. Esosa. Mr. Esosa examined it for
NINE
67
N iye was lying on the sofa when she heard a knock on the door. Reluctantly
she got up and moved to the door to open it. Her mouth went agape and her
eyes expanded to twice their original size at the sight of the person standing in
front of her. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her palms to make sure she
wasn’t dreaming. And when she reopened them, he was still there, grinning at her.
She flung herself into his waiting arms and buried her face in his neck, her
“It’s me,” the man replied, and together they moved into the sitting room.
The man loosened his grip around her and ushered her to a sofa. He sat
Niye suddenly found reasons to cry. But she did not answer the question.
She only cried. Her father put his soothing arms around her. How she loved those
“Daddy, it’s been terrible,” Niye told him. “I don’t know why I’m so
doomed.”
“I know it’s been terrible,” the man said. “But you’re not doomed. Never.”
“Daddy, I-”
deserve become our lot. But they happen today to test us, try us, and make us
ready for what lay ahead. Journey through life is never smooth.”
“I wish I had you all this time,” Niye said. “All these things wouldn’t have
happened.”
68
“That’s why you don’t have me anymore,” the man told her; “so they can
happen. You can’t have me forever, Niye. Everyone must go some time. But you
always can have you, your life. And all your dreams can become reality if only you
find the courage and determination to fight through today, to survive. If only you
are willing to rise when you fall, and keep on moving: stepping over obstacles,
swimming every river, climbing every mountain. And looking beyond today at the
day after, smiling in your suffering and pain and hoping tomorrow will be a better
day.”
Niye shut her eyes and tightened her grip around her father’s neck as she
assimilated every word he said. When she opened her eyes again, he was gone. In
his place was Osato, sleeping soundly by her. Niye could feel someone tapping at
her gently. She looked sideways and saw her uncle beside her on the bed. Her arms
“Take this money,” her uncle was saying, handing her some notes. “Go to
“Epa, I-”
“Here’s her address,” the man continued, handing her a piece of paper. “And
tell her why I sent you back. Tell her you’ve been sleeping with a lot of men, you
cannot even remember their names or differentiate one from the other. Tell her
you’re now a prostitute, a pregnant one. And that’s why I’m sending you back.”
This was the first time Niye had had an opportunity to say anything to her
uncle since they left Jonathan’s place the previous night. The man had simply
“Shut up!” Mr. Esosa thundered. “He forced you or you went to sleep with
him for money? Did you not sleep with him yesterday morning?”
69
“And his name was not even Jonathan; how can you explain that?”
Niye wanted to take her uncle to Rachael, but she quickly remembered she’ll
“How can you explain that?” her uncle reminded her of the question on
ground. The look in his eyes and the waiting in his mind showed that he earnestly
Her uncle sighed and looked upwards, biting at his lower lip. Then he
“You see how stupid you are,” he said. “You see how…And to think that I
embarrassed.”
Niye knew her uncle was hurt, and she was responsible. She suddenly felt
“Sorry for yourself,” her uncle replied instantly, coldly. “Take your things and
leave my house. Do you hear me? I don’t want to see you here when I get back.”
Before Niye could say anything, he was out of the room, and soon she heard
the front door slam shut. She wanted to cry, but could not. The tears would not
form. But there was someone whimpering behind her. Niye turned to see Osato who
Tears began to form in Niye’s eyes as she realised that the last thing she
“But he shouldn’t send you away,” Osato countered. “Who’ll take care of me
now?”
70
Niye was touched. She did not want Osato to speak any longer, so she
“I’m not going away forever,” Niye said. “I’ll be back for you.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“Now you’ll take your bath and go up to meet Iye,” Niye said.
“I won’t go to school?”
Osato nodded her head and rested on Niye’s chest. Niye held her close for a
long time. Her mind began to remember the words her father had passed on to her
in the dream. She smiled, for her father, wherever he was, had not forgotten about
her. And her mother? Niye was going to find out soon when she would face the
woman who had given birth to her, for the first time in seven years.
**** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** ****
“Airport junction, come down,” the driver ordered as he swerved the bus carelessly
to the side of the road.
Niye brought out the address her uncle had given her and peered at it, just
“No. 132 Airport road,” the address said, “by Hotel De Mark.”
wasn’t looking very different from where she had come from, only it was a little
neater.
This was Warri, she thought. This was where her mother was.
71
She had to find her mother now. She had to find Hotel De Mark. And Hotel
De Mark wouldn’t be far from where she was, so she should ask someone. Niye
looked to her side and saw a mobile police checkpoint. The policemen would surely
They didn’t answer. Or they didn’t even hear her. While some were sleeping,
others were eating, and yet others were zealously collecting illegal fees from
passing cabs. Maybe the drivers had no license or no seat belts; and instead of
being taken to the station to be fined, they would simply give the policemen a tip
“What are you hissing at?” a gruff voice asked from behind her.
Startled, Niye turned around. It was a policeman, about the same age as her
uncle, who was staring down at her. Instinctively she moved three steps backwards.
“What are you hissing at?” the policeman asked again. “You don’t like what
you see?”
“Yes.”
The policeman was looking at Niye with a look she had seen in the eyes of
many boys before; but not in the eyes of a man as old as her uncle. Why should he
“But before we go there, why don’t you first come along with me?”
“Sir?”
72
“Let’s go to some cool spot.”
“Sir?”
Niye knew what he was talking about, what he wanted, the moment he
The expression on the man’s face was nothing but frustration. Was Niye
playing hard to get or did she really have no idea what he was telling her? Then he
willed himself to start smiling again. Niye wondered if his smile was supposed to
“Yes, coitus,” he replied. “I’ll give you whatever you want; pleasure beyond
“The first man who gave me wild screams and tears also gave me a baby,
which is right now in my womb,” Niye replied pointing to her stomach. “You want to
add another?”
“Oh, thank you,” Niye said to no one in particular. “I would never have been
She could have exploded in laughter as she left the checkpoint, but for her
own good, she restrained herself. But someone really had to instil some discipline in
73
And her mother; how would she look now? Niye could remember vaguely
how her mother had looked when her father was alive. She had been very beautiful,
with dark, long hair, and a smooth shapely body. But now; how would she look?
Then this baby in her womb; would her mother believe it had been planted
there by one and not two people? Would her mother believe she had been raped?
And what if her mother didn’t believe; would she send her back to her uncle?
No. She should believe. She had to believe. Niye had travelled with no
luggage whatsoever because she expected her mother to believe. She expected
her mother to sympathise with her and take her back to her uncle and plead on her
behalf. Niye was sure her uncle would listen to his sister’s voice. He had always said
he loved her dearly. Was that not even the reason why he had taken Niye away
So, that was what her mother should do-sympathise with her and take her
back. That was why she was her mother. She should believe.
Niye reached the hotel, and for a moment she surveyed the building. Such a
fine name; such an ugly place. It should have been a local brothel, if anything. Then
Niye began to look around at the smaller houses. She spotted No. 132 and began to
approach it. That was where her mother was-the woman who had given birth to her
seventeen years ago, and whom she last saw seven years ago. Tension and anxiety
which had nothing to do with matters on ground were mounting inside Niye. She
would see her mother today. Soon. She could almost leap for what should be joy as
“Niye!”
Niye looked to her side and saw a pale, scrawny woman with a basket on her
head approaching. The woman was smiling at her. But had Niye seen this woman
before? She didn’t think so. It was only when the woman threw her basket
carelessly away from her head and began to run towards her, that Niye recognised
74
Impulsively, she too began running towards the woman, screaming, “Iye!
Iye! Iye!” for she had found her mother. They collided in a passionate embrace, no
one willing to let go of the hold. Not anytime in the near future. They were solemn
Niye did not know what to say to that. She missed her mother dearly, but
didn’t think her mother missed her too. If her mother did, then why did she
abandon her for seven years; not even a letter to ask how she was doing? Niye
herself would have come around sometime to visit her mother, but her uncle of
course would not have the money for such “long journeys”.
Niye felt tears from her mother’s eyes drop on her shoulders, and she felt
her mother was sincere. She loved her mother too, she concluded. Just maybe.
There were scores to settle though. A lot of scores to settle. The woman would have
to explain why she had abandoned her only daughter whom she claimed to love, for
And as Niye continued to listen to the beating of her mother’s heart, little
did she know that this might well be the last time she would hold her mother close.
IT WAS about five o’clock when Niye woke up from sleep. She had been so
exhausted after the journey that she had immediately gone to bed. Now she was
awake, and it was time to talk to her mother. She would first inform her of matters
on ground, and if that went well, she would go straight to the scores which they had
to settle.
Slowly, Niye sat up on her mother’s bed and began to look around the room.
It was smaller than her room in Benin, and unlike her uncle’s apartment, her
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mother’s was a single-room apartment. There was only the bed on which Niye sat
Niye shook her head. See how her mother was living, just because her father
had died. Her mother had become so lean and pale that Niye could not even
recognise her when she saw her earlier. Her mother now had simply lost her
beauty, just because her father had died. Niye felt like crying.
Niye didn’t have to wait long before her mother rushed in like a man whose
Niye managed to put a smile on her lips, just so that her mother wasn’t
smiling in vain.
Her mother went to her side and began to stroke her hair.
But she couldn’t keep on smiling. She was too grieved to keep on smiling.
“What is it, my daughter?” the woman asked. “You don’t look happy seeing
me.”
“Look I know I have offended you in many ways, and I can explain what-”
Her mother was looking at her in a way that suggested she was finding it
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Niye couldn’t speak. God! Wasn’t it a shame that she had to see her mother
for the first time in seven years with a baby in her womb? How would her mother
feel?
Niye swallowed hard, and looked away from her mother, if only to hide the
“Why?” her mother inquired in a voice laden with surprise and concern.
Niye’s mother waited patiently for Niye to say the reason why she had been
sent packing; but as Niye was unwilling to speak, she decided to help with possible
clues.
Niye wondered what there was to steal from her uncle. There were only
“No.”
“No.”
Niye shut her eyes to let the tears fall. She should speak now, or forever
remain silent. But she could not turn to face her mother. The shame was too much
to bear. She mumbled something which her mother did not seem to hear clearly.
Niye expected her mother to say something, but the woman did not speak.
So Niye went on to narrate what had happened at Jonathan’s place the two times
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she had been there. And even when she finished, her mother did not say as much
as one word. It was only when she turned to look at her, that Niye realised her
mother was now lying on the bed, her pale skin paler.
But the woman was simply looking in her direction and not saying anything.
Niye felt her heart begin to beat faster as she reached out to feel the woman’s
pulse, and listen to the beating of her heart. Her mother’s heart was not beating;
neither could her pulse be felt. The woman was gone. She was dead.
Niye’s mind suddenly went blank. What now should she do: cry or fry?
No one would take her back to her uncle and plead on her behalf. No one
would sympathise with her and tell her all was well. The woman who had given her
Niye opened her mouth wide and screamed, her hand clasping around her
mother, shaking her vigorously. She could not be dead. No, her mother could not be
The woman did not wake up. Perhaps she did not even hear Niye. But Niye
continued to scream and to shake her mother, determined to give her life as she
had done to her seventeen years ago. The curtains flew open and neighbours
They did try to separate Niye from her mother, but Niye would not let go.
She would not even believe that her mother was dead. But finally, Niye realised
that nothing she would do could bring life back into her mother. Reluctantly she let
go, and held her face in her hands, and cried. She remembered that day, seven
years ago, when she had parted with her mother. The promise her mother had
made that they would be together again, the tears they both had cried as she was
cuddled in her mother’s arms. Now the woman was gone. They would never be
together again.
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“Why, Iye?” Niye asked, tears streaming down her face. “ Just Why?”
TEN
I t was night now, and Niye was back in Benin, in a cab, headed for Ekosodin
where her uncle lived. She could not stay in Warri, for she knew no one there.
The only one she knew was dead. She could only go back to her uncle, and hope
Her mind was blank; not because she wasn’t thinking, but because she was
thinking a thousand and one thoughts that she ended up thinking of nothing in
particular.
It was the old, toothless cabby who was asking. But Niye did not hear him.
Or she heard him and counted his voice as one of the louder thoughts speaking
within her.
Still Niye did not respond. The man began to peer into the rear-view mirror.
Was she deaf, or dumb? Or both? He should find out. He swerved to the side of the
road and turned off the ignition. Then he turned in his seat to look at the person he
“Hey.”
Niye heard him this time, barely. She became suddenly aware that the car
“What’s wrong with the car?” she asked. “Why are we not moving?”
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“I forgot where you said you were going,” the driver replied. “And I’ve been
The driver nodded and started the ignition again. But his eyes did not for
one moment leave the rear-view mirror. He was observing this young girl.
“So, where are you coming from at this time of night?” he asked.
“What did you go there for?” the man asked. Then he smiled knowingly. “You
Niye forced herself to smile. A nice chat with this old man would not be too
“You teenagers,” he said; “is there any one of you that does not have a
boyfriend?”
He nodded. Then he shook his head. “I wish I was a teenager. Your life is so
Niye wished he was right. But before she could make any attempt to correct
him, he continued.
“You have nothing to worry about, no pains to feel. Your parents provide you
with everything you need.” He shook his head again. “I wish I was still a teenager.”
“Things don’t work well for everyone,” she said. “Some of us have to
struggle to survive.”
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“Struggling is for us, the adults,” the man responded. “I struggled to make
Niye smiled weakly. Wasn’t she proud of this man? As old as he was, he still
struggled to make ends meet. She wished her uncle was like him. Not that her
“That’s good,” she said. “But some of us teenagers have to struggle for
“Legally or illegally?”
“You’ve forgotten!”
“Last night.”
“Biologically I have two,” the man began. “But when my younger brother
“He was a good striker,” the man replied. “And he loved to score goals.”
“Yes,” the man replied. “It had not been easy, but it was worth it. At least
today I’m proud when they come and visit me with their own families.”
“So why are you still a cab driver? I mean, you’ve got people to take care of
you.”
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The man smiled in a way that told Niye he had been asked that question
They had reached Ekosodin now, so he parked the car. Then he turned to
Niye.
“Sir?”
“I know you’re going through a lot right now,” the cabby said. “It’s written
all over you. You may not have your parents, or all those you love anymore. But you
can always have one thing in this life that no one can take away from you.”
He was smiling at Niye in a way that was both friendly and eerie. Niye began
“Choice,” the driver replied. “Whether you live or die, are happy or sad, rich
Then he gave her a hopeful smile, and Niye smiled back at him.
She was dipping her hands in her skirt pocket, searching for her change.
“No problem.”
She got out of the cab, watched the man reverse, and waved at him as he
sped out of sight. Then she turned to begin her journey home-her uncle’s home.
Whatever was going to happen tonight, she was ready. She was ready now to face
what lay ahead. It was her choice if she lived or died, was happy or sad, rich or
poor. That was what the old man had told her, and she had believed him. So she
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The sky was cloudy and soon, Niye knew, it would begin to rain. So she
quickened her steps until she reached her uncle’s place and knocked on the door.
Instantly the door opened, but it was not her uncle who opened it. It was
Osato. Niye could hear her uncle barking at Osato to “come back here!” but the
little girl did not listen. Her beloved Niye was back for her just like she had
“Osato, I-”
“What do you want here?” her uncle interrupted from the door, his arms
“You have a mother, don’t you?” the man queried. “Go to her.”
“I have no one but you now, Epa,” Niye implored. “Don’t send me away.”
“What do you mean you have no one?” he asked. “Is Warri so big that you
“So?”
“She collapsed when I told her I was pregnant,” Niye said plainly. “And now
she’s dead.”
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“What!” Mr. Esosa screamed. “Niye, you’re joking.”
“Epa, it’s true,” she said, tears forming in her eyes, “I-I…”
She could not continue, for her voice had been sealed by sadness. And as
her uncle watched the tears run down her face, he knew she was telling the truth.
Mr. Efosa looked up. Were these tears that were forming in his eyes? He
knew they were tears, but now for the first time in his life, he did not make any
attempt to wipe them away. His sister had collapsed when Niye told her she was
Now like many times before, the blame rested on him. How could he have
forgotten she had a heart condition? He should have known such bad news would
be too hard for her fragile heart to handle. He should have known better than to
send Niye to her. He had killed his sister, the one he loved the most.
He let the tears fall freely. Niye could only wonder what he was thinking as
she let her own tears fall. And Osato; she too was beginning to cry because Niye
was crying.
“Epa, I’m sorry,” Niye muttered, for what else could she say? What else?
Mr. Efosa’s gaze slowly descended from the sky, to the ground. It was
because of this stupid Niye girl, he reasoned. If she had not messed herself up with
boys, she would not have gotten pregnant and he would not have had to send her
to her mother. Now look what she had made him do. Suddenly, that evil specie of
anger erupted from his bone marrows, and flooded his system. He would kill Niye
Niye looked up at him and she knew she had to leave. Fast.
Without saying another word, her uncle entered into his apartment.
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“To where?” Osato asked in panic.
Niye turned to leave, but Osato clasped her arms around her waist.
“Osato, please,” Niye cried back. “I have to go. Epa is angry with me.”
Niye was touched. She looked up at the sky and bit at her lower lip, tears
“God,” she cried. “Why? Why have you done this to me? What have I done
But the sky simply stared down at her. Lightning flashed and thunder
“I want to go with you,” Osato informed her. “I can’t live here all alone.
Niye couldn’t suffer Osato to speak anymore. The words the little girl was
saying were stabbing at her heart, her body, her soul. So she placed her fingers on
Osato was shaking her head in disagreement. She didn’t want to be strong.
“Listen to me,” Niye said forcefully. “You have to be strong. We might not
see each other again for a long time, but one day we’ll be together, okay?”
Niye did not know whether or not she believed what she was telling the little
girl-that one day they would be together again. But she had to say it, if only to give
Osato hope. Osato was slowly nodding her head, like she understood perfectly what
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her elder cousin was telling her. She was staring at her elder cousin’s eyes,
wondering when next, that is if ever, she would see those eyes again.
Niye wondered if after seven years, she would have a heart condition and
Osato would come looking for her with scores to settle, with a baby in her womb
and would tell her she had been raped; and then Niye would collapse and die. Was
Suddenly, Niye cuddled the girl in her arms, savouring the touch of her body.
This might well be the last time she would hold her.
“I won’t. I promise. Just be strong for me, okay? Promise me you’ll survive.”
“I promise…and you?”
“I will survive.”
They were cuddled together, crying together, until Niye saw her uncle
approach from inside the apartment, a machete in hand. He was coming straight to
where they were, and Niye knew it was time to flee. Hurriedly she disengaged from
“Are you still here?” her uncle asked, beginning to chase after her. “I will kill
you, murderer.”
Niye fled from his sight, and he chased after her with one intention in his
heart: to kill her. And she ran with one instinct in her being: to survive. She ran with
all she had left. She ran in any direction-every direction. She fell and rose, stumbled
and regained balance. She was tired, but still, she ran.
He chased after her, determined to end her life, for she had ended his
sister’s. Even when the rain began pouring, he did not give up the chase, as long as
she continued running. Although he had had nothing to eat throughout that day, he
kept on pursuing; till his body shivered in the cold and his vision became blurred;
till he fell to the ground, and became barely aware that he was helpless as the rain
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poured down on him. He should make it to his feet and continue the chase. But as
much as he tried, he could rise no more. All he could hear were the sounds of a
But even after he fell, Niye continued running, for little did she know that
her uncle had fallen apart. She fell and rose, stumbled and regained balance, until
it was clear to her that she could run no more. She was exhausted, and let herself
fall to the ground. She was ready for him, she was ready to die. So she waited for
the sharp edge of the machete to send her to the place where there was no life.
But the machete did not drop on her, for the machete had since been
motionless. Wearily she lifted up her face and looked behind her, but her uncle was
not in sight. She breathed heavily in relief as the rain poured on her. She should go
Her face was wet, but she didn’t know if it was the rain or her tears or a
mixture of both.
She should go to Jonathan, she concluded. He was the only one who would
take her in at this time of night. Even if she hated him, he was all she had now.
Slowly, she rose to her knees, then to her feet. But what was happening to
the water around her? It had suddenly turned crimson. It was only when Niye
looked down at herself that she saw blood trickling down her thighs, her shin, even
to the ground.
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ELEVEN
R achael had now come to her senses; this night she could not sleep. She had
tried to, but she could not. When she closed her eyes, all she could see was
Niye pleading and begging her to come back. She sat up and turned on the lights.
How right she was. Wasn’t she such a fool to have thought Niye had
seduced Jonathan? Wasn’t she a fool to have severed her relationship with her best
friend because of a man? For crying out loud, what had come over her that day that
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Rachael was sorry for what she had done. She was completely remorseful;
but would Niye forgive her? Would she even have the courage to face Niye? She
imagined the pains that Niye must be going through. Niye needed her now more
than ever, but she was not there simply because of Jonathan. She cried, not for
Jonathan, but for Niye-her love. She would make it up to her, she told herself. She
It was Omo who had asked. Somehow he had appeared beside her.
“You’re not asleep,” she told him as she wiped the tears off her face.
“It’s just almost ten,” he informed her. “Why should I sleep now?”
“You should say that,” he said, “because you finished school months ago.”
Omo sat up with a reflex. Was she saying that Niye was dead?
“I lost her.”
“What?”
“She…”
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Omo heaved a sigh of relief.
“So how did you lose her?” he asked a little less concerned.
“Anyhow.”
“She got raped by Jonathan, and she told me, and I didn’t believe her.”
“And…”
“Well, I told her never to come around me again. I thought she seduced
him.”
“I know,” Rachael interrupted him. “It’s crazy. I was…I wasn’t normal then.”
“So you both are through as friends: is that what you’re saying?”
“I miss her terribly,” she said. “I’ll do anything to bring her back, especially
Omo was angry. Why hadn’t Rachael told him this since? He had been
wondering why Niye had not been to their place ever since. He would have gone to
check on her, but for the stressfulness of his school work. But why would Rachael
ever think Niye had raped Jonathan? And why didn’t she tell him this before? Or
“I can’t.”
“Omo, please.”
“I can’t. I mean, what were you thinking when you told her you never
“Omo, I don’t know. Please help me. She needs me. She’s pregnant!”
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Omo felt his brain being electrocuted as Rachael mentioned that last
statement. Shock waves spread from his head down to the soles of his feet. He
shivered lightly.
“What did you just say?” he asked; his voice barely above whispers.
Omo was silent for what seemed like forever. Then he rose to his feet and
Rachael was watching him warily. He turned to face her, his eyes narrowed
in anger.
Rachael swallowed hard. Had she seen her brother look this way before? She
couldn’t remember. She suddenly had an absurd feeling he would hurt her.
“And even at that, you still had the conscience to abandon her.” Omo was
shaking his head in disbelief of how cruel his sister was. She was wicked.
“I did not-”
Omo didn’t know what to do to Rachael now. Snapping her neck didn’t seem
a very bad idea. He could have done it…but not now. There were much more
important things to do now. His beloved Niye was in pains. She was his priority. He
He turned like a robot and left Rachael’s room. He entered the sitting room
and headed for the front door to go outside, to see Niye. Rachael was calling after
him and warning him of the dangers in what he was about to do.
“If Mummy and Daddy were at home,” she was saying, “you wouldn’t be
doing this.”
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Omo opened the door and went out into the night, into the rain, to see Niye.
HE WAS thoroughly drenched and shivering when he reached her uncle’s place.
Now it was his heart that was discharging the electric current which was radiating
around his chest. With shaky hands, Omo knocked on the front door of Niye’s
uncle’s apartment. The door immediately flew open, Osato standing in the
entrance. Her face was wet with tears, and Omo didn’t know why. There was even
Niye?”
“Epa chased her with a knife because she was pregnant,” Osato explained.
Omo looked in the direction of the T-junction. He could see nothing but rain.
The rain was simply a huge silvery-white wall in front of him. He bit at his lower lip.
“Osato, the rain is not good for you,” he told her. “Stay indoors, I will bring
her back.”
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“Promise me.”
“I promise.”
And with that, Omo started for the T-junction to find Niye. He was cold and
shivering, but he was determined to find her, dead or alive. No, not dead. Niye
He continued in the rain, and instinctively, he began to run; for who knows:
his quickness might be the difference between finding her alive or dead. But in
Omo didn’t stop to think. He just found himself running, as if running for his
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TWELVE
N iye was knocking on the door of Jonathan’s room, cold and shivering, and
exhausted and hungry. At first there was no response. When she knocked
Please he should be home. Didn’t he know she had nowhere else to go? He
Niye knocked again, and this time she heard Jonathan speak.
“Who?”
“Niye.”
There was another round of hesitation before she heard the key turn in the
She entered. Her mind began to wonder many things. For example, why did
Jonathan have to ask her who she was this time? And then the door had been
locked. And he had even asked her who she was twice. What was wrong?
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Immediately Niye entered, Jonathan locked the door again. Then he
switched on the light, moved to the bed, and sat. The armchair was there beside
Niye, but she didn’t sit. She preferred to stand and stare at Jonathan. He got the
message instantly.
“Look, Niye, I’m sorry for denying you before your uncle,” Jona began. “I had
to do some thinking, and I decided your life was not worth wasting.”
“You began wasting my life the very day you forced me,” Niye told him.
“Then, I don’t want to continue wasting it,” he responded promptly. “My life
is really complicated right now, and I don’t want you to be entangled in it.”
Niye didn’t want to talk for long. She had little strength to spare on words.
She wanted to eat, and sleep, and become Niye again. Jonathan seemed to have
realised that the Niye he knew was not the one standing in front of him.
“What happened to you, Niye?” he asked. “You look horrible. Where are you
coming from?”
“My uncle drove me out of the house,” she said. “And he chased me with a
“I’m really sorry,” he said. “I would have married you if I could, but-”
Niye could see his eyes glisten in the light; but she didn’t know whether it
was tears that were forming or if that was the way his eyes normally glistened in
the light.
“Niye, you have to leave now,” Jonathan said. “You can’t stay here any
longer.”
“I have nowhere to go, Jona,” Niye said. “You’re all I have now.”
She cried as she spoke, and Jonathan was hurt. Why did he have to be so
cruel to this Niye of a girl? Now look what mess he had made of her and her life.
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But he could swear he never meant to do any of the things he had done to her. He
Slowly now, he rose to his feet, and moved to where Niye was. Then he
embraced her. At that moment, that thing in him arose. Now, like every time before
when he had been with her, he had just one desire: to make love to her. Now, like
many times before, he knew he could not quench this hunger. This thirst. He
wanted her more than anything, more than everything. His lovemaking to her today
would be exceptional. Perhaps this would be the last time he would ever see her.
His hands slid round her waist and tightened her to him. Then he began to
Now, like before, Jonathan did not listen to her. His hand reached beneath
her skirt, beyond her defences, and began to massage her roughly. Niye felt her
lower hairs being pulled out of their roots. It was a feeling of absolute pain and she
began to scream. But she knew no one would hear her, for the sound of the rain
was deafening. Her screaming only seemed to make Jonathan more violent. He tore
apart her last defence and began to massage her all over her body; gruffly,
brusquely. He didn’t even notice the blood all over Niye’s thighs. He was completely
immersed in his own world of fantasy. All he wanted was to sastisfy this hunger,
He lifted her and threw her carelessly on the bed. Then he fell on her, and
plunged his tongue into her mouth, down her throat. Niye was suffocating, dying.
When he withdrew his tongue, Niye found herself gasping for air, trying to catch her
breath. She had not been given a single chance to try to defend herself. None at all.
But she was dying, it was painful, and she wanted him to stop.
Jonathan found his way into her. He was jerking uncontrollably, his motion
resembling that of an overly zealous carpenter sawing on light wood. Niye found
herself jerking along with him, the bed creaking mightily under them. She was
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breathless, gasping and panting like an athlete who had run a marathon at full
speed.
Jonathan did not take her seriously, neither did she herself. It was only when
she saw a penknife lying idle nearby that the Devil entered her. She needed him
out from on top her. She needed to breathe. She needed to live. Impulsively, Niye
picked up the knife and thrust it in Jonathan’s back. She stabbed him again…and
again. Jonathan screamed and rolled from on top of her. She too screamed like one
startled, jumping up from the bed like one stung by a bug. The knife fell from her
hand.
Jonathan rolled to the ground and began twisting and turning, painting the
floor red.
“Niye, why?” he muttered, his hand reaching for the wound on his back.
Blood was gushing from his back, and he seemed to be making an effort to
breathe. Niye’s hand closed around her mouth in horror and confusion.
But Jona kept writhing and groaning, and blood kept on pouring from his
back like a fountain of living water. Niye couldn’t stand the sight; she turned and
fled from his room and out of Zenith Hostel. She had begun running again,
Jonathan’s groaning image tormenting her mind, chasing after her, fuelling her legs.
She ran in the rain with strength she never imagined she had. She ran until she
slammed into a brick wall. She fought with the wall, to push it out of her way, but it
“It’s me,” the wall said forcefully, holding her still. “It’s Omo.”
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Niye saw his blurred image, and immediately, all energy she possessed was
drained out of her being. Instinctively she threw her arms around his neck and
rested her head on the place that was his chest. Niye didn’t know what Omo was
doing here, or how he had found her in the rain. But somehow, she knew that she
had come to end of her journey because she had found Omo. She was relieved
Omo turned with Niye to take her home, but her feet were dragging on the
It was the last words she would speak that night, for by the time Omo had
hauled her over his shoulder, Niye had already drifted into the realm of
unconsciousness.
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THIRTEEN
I t was at about seven o’clock the next morning before Niye stirred in her sleep.
Her eyes opened slowly and she was aware immediately of where she was and
who it was that had brought her there. She was on her bed, and Omo it was that
She smiled as she saw Osato at her bedside, the little girl’s head on her
knees.
“Niye!” she screamed excitedly and flew into the bed, into Niye. “Thank
“Me too.”
Niye held the young girl close, like she last saw her decades ago.
prepare.
Osato dashed out of the room to fetch Omo. Niye stretched and yawned.
She realised she was renewed. She now had strength and new clothes on, which
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meant somehow, she had eaten and taken her bath the previous night. But she
Omo walked in calmly, smiling as he went over to the bed to sit by Niye.
Niye realised that Omo had a handsome smile. She had never really bothered to
She suddenly felt she would feel much better with Osato out of the scene.
“Osato, go and take your bath and get ready for school,” Niye said.
“Get ready for school,” Niye told her calmly. “I’ll still be home when you get
back.”
Osato grumbled her way out of the room, and then there was silence. There
were many things to say, but no one knew what exactly was right for the moment,
or how to start. But Omo should take the initiative. He was the man.
“Niye, I really need to apologise for…” he halted. “I really did not know you
“I should,” Omo protested back. “I should have been there for you all this
while.”
Niye freed her hands from his, and placed her index finger on his lips.
“You’ve done enough for me,” she said. “I’m the one who should be
grateful.”
Niye smiled at him and released his lips so he could smile back. He did.
“What were you doing out there at that time of night?” she inquired.
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“I was looking for you,” Omo replied. “Rachael told me what had happened
between you two and last night I thought it was only proper I saw you.”
Niye shut her eyes and looked away. Tears were forming, but she did not
know why. Overwhelmed by emotions she could not explain, she turned and
hugged him.
“You’ve done what more than any friend could do,” Niye said. “You’ve saved
my life.”
Slowly, she let go of her grip, and she saw tears in Omo’s eyes. But she
He simply smiled. “I’m just….” There were no words left to express himself.
He didn’t even know what it was that he wanted to say. But Niye seemed to
Niye rested herself completely on him. How she loved to do that. His body
reminded her of her father’s: soft and comforting. Even if there was little flesh, she
felt no bones.
“I’m not hungry,” Niye replied. “You fed me last night, didn’t you?”
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“But you were there,” Niye told him.
Then there was silence again. She began to wonder if there was any other
man on earth like Omo. Jonathan’s attitude had forced her to conclude that all men
saw women as women if only they had protrusions on their chests and hollows
between their legs. But here was Omo seeing her differently, ignoring all the things
Niye decided there and then that Omo would be a part of her life. He was
what she had imagined a man to be, he was a real man. He was the only real man
in the world. All the others were a bunch of “illusions and oppositions.” And now,
she should tell him of what had happened last night. He was a part of her and
Omo said nothing. He had sensed that already because of the blood he had
seen when Osato had bathed Niye. He had been excited then but now he was
wondering if it really was good news. That was a baby whose life had been
terminated. Should he be happy about that? I mean, who knows what that baby
would have been had he been privileged to come into the world? But it wasn’t
Niye’s fault that the baby had to go. It wasn’t Niye’s fault at all.
Omo began to wonder what must have come over Niye’s uncle to make him
“Why did your uncle want to kill you last night?” he asked.
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“He sent me to my mother,” Niye began. “And she…she died when I told her
I was pregnant. And she was the only sister he had, so when I got back…”
Niye left the rest of the sentence for Omo to discern, as she could no longer
continue for the pain that was emerging in her heart was great. When Omo put his
arms around her and began to tell her it was okay, the pain seemed to increase.
“I didn’t mean to kill her,” she told Omo as a matter of sincerity. “I didn’t
mean to-”
“You didn’t kill her,” Omo informed her. “It was not your fault.”
“Oh Omo, I wish I was like you,” Niye said bitterly. “I wish I didn’t have to go
through all these pain. I wish I lived with those who love me. I wish I had those to
Omo placed his fingers on her lips to stop her from continuing speaking, for
little did she know that the things she was saying were resurrecting the pains that
had long been buried in his heart. Little did she know that he too wished he was like
her.
“Everyone has their problems, Niye,” he told her. Then he added that he
Niye lifted her head from his chest and looked up at his face. She saw in his
eyes the pain she had seen the day he had held her close and comforted her.
“I wish I didn’t have to live everyday, knowing that the very next day I might
die.”
Fear clutched at Niye’s heart. What was this that Omo was saying: that he
was going to die? Didn’t he know he was all she had now? She couldn’t afford to
lose him. She couldn’t. But she was yet to comprehend him. He was strong and
“I don’t understand, Omo,” she said, her voice a step away from panic.
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Omo shut his eyes tightly. And when he opened them again, there were
tears.
“Then make me,” Niye told him hastily, impatiently. “What do you mean?”
Niye noticed he was trying to avoid her eyes, so she held his face still and
“I don’t want to lose you,” she said. “Tell me: what is it?”
Tears began to run down his cheeks, and Niye was hurt that Omo was hurt.
What he had said struck her like lightning, and she shuddered. But her mind did not
go blank. She was simply HIV positive now because Omo was positive; so she cried
for him, with him, because of him. The pain she saw in his eyes, and the yearning;
Slowly, she let his head fall on her shoulder, and she wiped the tears off his
“I was ten years old then,” Omo began his story, “I fell ill and required a
blood transfusion. There was only one person in my family who had enough blood
to spare, and he was my uncle. So he was my donor. When I was twelve he died
positive, and then my parents thought it wise to check my status. I was found out
to be positive.”
Niye wondered how she never got to know about this all the years she had
“I’m sorry,” Niye said. “But you won’t die. I know you won’t die.”
“I wish you’re right, Niye,” Omo said. “It’s only a matter of time, probably a
few more years, before the symptoms begin to manifest. What hope do I have?”
“You’re right Omo,” Niye said. “You might not have hope. You might not have
anything, but you can always have one thing: choice. Whether you live or die, are
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Then she lifted up his face to meet her gaze.
Omo kept on staring in her eyes, making certain that she meant what she
said. He was comforted when he found the truth in her eyes: she would always be
there for him. Slowly he rested his head again on her shoulders.
With his head on her shoulder, and her hand on his plenty hair, Niye felt a
feeling gradually erupt from the deepest recesses of her heart. It was a feeling she
had felt for no man before: an aching, a longing to hold and to cherish the man
whose head was on her shoulders-to cradle him closer, and never let go forever. It
was a feeling of want-of need-of desire. She didn’t care now whether he was
positive or negative or even multiplication or division. All she cared for was him. All
But suddenly, out of nowhere, there was a bang at the front door, and
another louder one and the third louder than the second. Omo and Niye bounced
off the bed, startled, like two young people caught in flagrante.
Omo slid out of the bed, and Niye followed behind him, to the sitting room,
to answer the door. He was first shocked at the sight of the people who had
knocked, then amused. What was wrong with Rachael? He thought. Did she have to
declare him missing to get the police searching for him? But little did he know that
the policemen were here for Niye and not for Omo.
There were two of them, policemen, one tall and the other short. Without
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It was a statement, and yet it was a question, for the policeman was looking
“It is,” Omo responded. “And how can we help you, officers?”
The shorter policeman’s eyes narrowed. He looked at Niye all over again, as
if evaluating her from another point of view. But the taller officer didn’t seem
told Niye.
“No, officer,” Omo protested, shaking his head vigorously. “There must be a
mistake somewhere.”
“Hold your peace, young man,” the shorter officer declared prophetically as
the elongated one brought out the cuffs and cuffed Niye’s wrists.
“You have the right to remain silent,” the officer said, actually looking at
Omo although he was talking to Niye. “Anything you say can, and will be used
Omo’s confused mind now figured that Eriso Onaghinor was Niye’s mother.
But for crying out loud, Niye did not kill her mother. She did not mean to.
“She did not kill her intentionally,” Omo told the policemen. “It was an
accident.”
The policemen who were now making their way away turned instantly to
look at him. They didn’t say anything. They would go now to the station, process a
warrant, and come back to take Omo. He should tell them what he knew about Niye
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They ignored Omo as he continued to scream and protest, and they kept on
walking away. Niye uttered no word. She knew her fate was sealed, for she had
killed the one she knew as Jonathan-the son of a prominent chief in the Benin
Kingdom. She had no hope. This was now the beginning of her end.
Omo stood where he was, affixed to the ground, even as Niye was being led
away. But he was full of anger he didn’t know what to do with. He just stood where
He began to wonder what was wrong with the policemen. Couldn’t they see
that Niye was not the type to hurt a fly? Didn’t they realise they had made a
mistake? Something was definitely wrong with them. And they had even infringed
on her rights. For crying out loud, she didn’t have to be cuffed. Who knows if they
He would go now to the station and give them a piece of his mind. But in the
Omo stopped in his strides and turned to see Osato behind him, crying. He
seemed surprised to see her, for he had completely forgotten she factually existed.
He could no longer go to the station immediately. He could not leave Osato here
He gestured for her to come to him, but she didn’t. Instead he went to her
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FOURTEEN
A s he made his way home with Osato, Omo continued to wonder what was
wrong with Niye’s uncle. Wasn’t it irresponsibility for one to chase their
daughter out of their apartment and voluntarily get lost in the process? Wasn’t he
arising. Niye was still his responsibility whether he liked it or not. At least, Osato
was. As for Niye; well Omo was ready to be responsible for her. He had promised
himself that.
So now, first of all, he had to find Niye’s uncle and inform him of matters
arising. Then he would go to the police station and give those people in uniform a
piece of his mind. They had to know they could not infringe on everyone’s rights.
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They had to know that all people were not ignorant fools. He certainly was not one,
Omo reached home and knocked on the door. He didn’t have to knock a
second time before the door flew open, Rachael standing in the entrance like she
had been waiting there all night for him to return. An expression of surprise and
fear spread across her face at the sight of the little girl in Omo’s arms.
“What happened?” she asked. “Where is Niye? Why is Osato with you? Did
She must as well have been talking to a moving statue, for in the moment
that was what Omo was. He simply walked past her and entered into the sitting
room. Then he placed Osato on a sofa. It was only when he spoke to the little girl
that Rachael was relieved her brother had not gone dumb overnight.
Osato nodded.
“Give her some food,” he said to the space in front of him. “I’ll be back.”
“Sister Niye was arrested by the police,” Osato informed Rachael. “They said
“That’s not her mother. That’s…” Rachael’s mouth fell apart and her eyes
bulged.
She began shaking her head vigorously as if to literally force a stubborn evil
thought out of her mind. Omo swallowed hard. He didn’t know and couldn’t guess
what was coming. But he knew it was bad news, so he swallowed in anticipation.
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Even Osato seemed to be interested. At least she was confused now, not
Rachael stopped shaking her head as it dawned on her that the thought
Omo suddenly felt his brain being electrocuted. A wave of electricity flowed
from the hair on his head even down to the nails on his toes. He could have fainted,
for what he had just heard had been totally unexpected. His eyes went shut. And
Omo didn’t know what to say to that. He had seen Niye run out of Jonathan’s
hostel the previous night. Surely, something must have happened there to make
her run. But could it be that it was because she had killed Jonathan? Could she have
killed Jonathan?
“She was running out of Jonathan’s hostel when I saw her last night,” he
said.
Omo was still pacing, and Rachael was silent. No one knew what to say, not
even what to think. But the more Omo paced, the more he convinced himself that
Niye could not have killed Jonathan. For some reason, he became sure. He turned
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Rachael took her time before she nodded in what would be agreement. She
“He’s lost?”
“No,” Omo said sternly. “Stay home and look after Osato.”
Omo didn’t wait to see whether Rachael had agreed to his terms. He turned,
went out straight through the open door, and shut it behind him. He was headed for
**** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** ****
Chief Onaghinor’s wife was sprawled on the floor, wailing. She had not stopped
wailing since the previous night when it was reported to them that Jonathan had
been murdered in cold blood. Even now as almost millions of sympathisers were
“Oh, Jonathan my son,” she lamented. “Who has taken my son away?”
She rolled from one end of the parlour to the other and back, crushing
“My son, my only son,” she continued to lament. “Oh, my God; punish. Oh,
“Iye, it’s okay,” one sympathiser said. “Your crying would not bring him
back.”
stopped rolling and lunged forward at the woman. Her hand found the woman’s
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“Is it your nonsense words that will bring him back?” she asked the younger
woman who was now struggling under her. “Tell me, will you bring him back?”
The younger woman could not free her neck from the older one’s grip, and
she knew that her end was near if she failed to make amends sooner than later; for
although other sympathisers were pulling on Jonathan’s mother, the older woman
“I didn’t mean what I said,” the younger woman cried in pain. “Please cry,
The chief’s wife seemed placated; slowly, after a while, she let go and
But the chief was far away from the scene. He was in his bedroom. He had
refused anyone seeing him since the previous night when he heard the news of his
only son’s death. He was lying on the bed now, staring up at the ceiling with his big
round face, his large pot belly staring as well. He would easily pass for a pregnant
woman whose time of delivery was almost due if he was seen afar of.
He should have sent the boy abroad to study. The boy would still have been
alive today. But his mother had been afraid to let the young lad go so far away from
home, to a strange land where he knew no one. She was afraid to lose him. And
now, even when he was near home, they had lost him.
But who was this that had killed him? Imagine how gruesomely he had been
murdered-knife to his back and rope to his neck. It was only a devil who could
murder someone that way. The chief’s heart now was smeared with one desire: to
bring the perpetrator of that dastardly act to book, come what may.
He had already been in touch with the Inspector General of Police and the
Police Commissioner in the state, and they had promised to act speedily. So now he
was waiting patiently but anxiously to hear back from them. He should hear from
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them soon. All through the night was enough time to find and apprehend the
culprit.
Chief Onaghinor looked at the wall clock. It was nine o’clock. If he does not
hear from them in the next thirty minutes, he would have no choice but to get the
president himself involved. His son’s killer must be found and brought to book at all
The phone rang. Immediately, he rolled out of bed and picked up the
receiver.
“Yes?”
The person at the other end must have understood. He had to understand.
This was one of the most influential men in the state speaking.
“I want her interrogated and charged to court in the next forty-eight hours.”
The other person must have disagreed with him on this one, for his face
Just do it!” he barked into the phone. It would be nothing but a miracle if the
policeman at the other end didn’t have his ear drums busted.
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FIFTEEN
N iye was placed behind the counter. She shouldn’t be put in a cell yet, not
until the chief had seen her. In the meantime, the two police officers that
had taken her captive had returned to her uncle’s place to pick up Omo.
“Hope they don’t find him,” was all Niye continually muttered as she sat
She didn’t care about herself now, for she knew her end was near. All she
cared for was Omo. She wished he would have a pleasant life no matter how long or
short it was going to be. But why did Omo have to be positive? She asked. Why did
he have to live a life of pain and misery? Now that she wasn’t there for him, who
Niye wept as she thought about him. Her sobbing increased when she
thought about Osato, her dearest, her love. She even cried for Jonathan. Even
though she hated him, she never meant to kill him. She didn’t hate him that much.
But what had come over her that night, she did not know. She only knew that he
was dead because of her and Omo would be lonely now because of her. She
continued crying.
Even as much as she cried, the three officers at the counter did not bother
to give her as much as a glance, let alone urge her to stop crying. They even
seemed elated she was crying, and since they were ladies, they spent their time
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“Good morning, sir, good morning, sir…” the ladies continually greeted him.
He should be a god: the way they bowed their heads in reverence as they greeted.
One pointed accusingly at Niye who was shuddering behind the counter. The
chief stretched his neck like a giraffe to look at the poor thing behind the counter.
Niye could not discern whether he felt for her pity or enmity, with this look in his
eyes.
“Is the IPO on seat?” the chief asked after he had satisfied his eyes.
“He has been expecting you, sir,” one of the officers said.
The chief turned and walked past the counter, headed for the IPO’s office.
He didn’t need to knock. He just opened the door and entered. The IPO rose to his
“Is that the girl that killed my son?” Chief Onaghinor asked.
“We’ll know our stand after interrogations have been done, Chief,” the IPO
said.
The wiry man who was the IPO exhaled. He was exasperated but he dared
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“Like I told you,” he began, leaning forward, “I want that girl interrogated as
soon as possible and charged to court in the next forty-eight hours. I want to see
justice done.”
“Justice has to be a little bit slow, Chief,” the wiry man said, “for it to be
efficient.”
“Chief,” he began, “the girl cannot be charged to court in the next forty-
eight hours. It’s impossible given the circumstances. I mean, it might take more
than forty-eight hours to be certain that she really is responsible for your son’s
The chief looked at the wiry man and decided not to argue with him.
“You worry too much, Chief,” he said. “I assure you, we’ll make sure she’s
brought to book.”
The tall detective, the officer that had arrested Niye, entered. He stood
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“Very well,” the IPO said. “We still have enough evidence to pin her to this
tomorrow morning.”
The detective saluted again, and left. Then the IPO turned to the chief who
“Chief, that will be done after we have interrogated the lady,” he began his
explanation, “and are convinced beyond every reasonable doubt with the evidence
“Keep in touch.”
IT WAS time for interrogations. Niye was bound in cuffs and sitting at a table in the
middle of an empty room. The air here was stale as there was no window
whatsoever, present. The tall detective was sitting opposite her, and the short one
“And you are Niyemamwen Atche,” he said, and waited for a reply.
“Good. Since we all know each other again, why don’t we begin? First-”
“You should read her, her rights again,” the shorter man suggested calmly.
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“Oh, yes,” the one opposite Niye agreed. “You have the right to remain
silent. Whatever you say can and will be used against you in the court of law…You
have the right to a lawyer. If you have none, the state will provide you one…Are we
clear?”
Niye nodded.
“But it will do us all much good if you answer all questions thrown at you
Niye swallowed hard. She was ready for whatever it was that they were
going to ask. She would tell the truth as she knew it, as she had never known
herself to be a liar.
He was waiting for Niye to answer the statement made. But Niye was simply
“Did you kill Eriso Onaghinor?” Detective Udoh asked this time.
“Yes.”
“I don’t know.”
“Please estimate.”
“And that was about the same time Eriso Onaghinor was killed.”
Niye didn’t know whether this one was a statement or a question, but she
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The detective nodded.
“So, my Niye,” he said almost affectionately, “why were you at his place at
“Oh, you mean they saw you and Jonathan in the act.”
Niye frowned. She was angry at this man’s sarcasm. The Police was
supposed to be her friend. That was the inscription on all the walls in the station.
“They know Jonathan raped me,” she said. “And he’s the only one I’ve been
with.”
“I get it now,” the detective continued. “He raped you and you went to his
“I went there because I had nowhere else to go,” Niye willed herself to say.
This was the crux of the matter. This would test the strength of Niye’s virtue.
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“When I got there,” she began, “it was raining, and I was glad he was
home…”
“Please continue.”
“He let me in, and began to apologise for all the wrongs he had done me.
wanted to have sex with me and I told him ‘No’. But he was forcing himself on me,
so I…”
Detective Udoh was on the edge of his seat in anticipation of the remainder
of the sentence, and The Squeezer was now standing right beside Niye.
“I found a knife nearby and stabbed him with it,” Niye said.
The two men looked to each other, the same expression of shock and
pleasant surprise on their faces. Surely they had not anticipated a confession so
soon. They had not even been sure this young lady was guilty. This was a miracle.
The detectives were totally unconcerned to the fact that it was an accident.
The good news was that Niye had admitted to killing Eriso, and that was all that
mattered.
The shorter detective produced a tape recorder and handed it to the taller
one.
“We would like to record your confession,” Detective Udoh said. “Could you
Niye wiped the tears off her face, and narrated to the detectives all that had
happened the previous night, as they had happened; at least, as much as she could
remember.
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“So what about the rope?” Detective Udoh continued the interrogation when
“Come on, you’ve done so well by telling us the truth so far; don’t lie now,”
Niye shook her head slowly. “I know nothing about any rope.”
“Speak the truth,” Detective James ordered calmly. It sounded like a threat.
“No problems,” Detective Udoh said. “At least you killed him with a knife.
“Why?”
“That’s a very long question.” He rose to his feet. “You’ll go to court soon
anyway.”
“Oh, you’ll find one,” he told her. “Get up: let’s take you to your new home.”
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SIXTEEN
I t was about five o’clock when Omo reached the station. He was tired and
disappointed, for his search for Niye’s uncle had been in vain. He had looked
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everywhere he could but had not found the man, not even in the mortuary. But he
knew Niye would be hungry, so on his way, he had stopped by a restaurant and
“Yes…” one said, peering at him intently with his bulging eyes on his tiny
face.
The other policeman who had been busy writing something down instantly
The tiny-faced man hissed, and shook his head slowly as if in sympathy for
Omo.
“She’s no longer here,” he said. “She’s been taken to the Oko Prison.”
Omo opened his mouth to speak, but on second thought, he shut it back.
But he was angry. He decided to nod curtly, and then he left their presence. He
went straight to the Oko Prison. There he was told that visiting time was over, but
that he could still see Niye if he offered “something”. He knew what that meant and
he was forced to comply. Then he was shown to the visitation room. Omo began to
wonder why the policemen thought he wanted to see Niye. He didn’t want to
suffocate her, if that was what was on their mind. Or was this really the visitation
room?
He made his way to one of the tables, and sat. Then he waited, until he saw
Niye being led in by an officer. Tears filled his eyes as he saw the look in Niye’s
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face: a look of resignation, of suffering, of pain, of death. He shifted his gaze to the
floor. The more he looked at her, the more he felt like her. He shouldn’t look.
Niye reached the table and sat opposite him, the officer standing by the
door. She could have reached out and hugged him, but these cuffs won’t let her. So
Omo shut his eyes and looked to the ground, so Niye wouldn’t see the tears
that had formed in his eyes. But she had already sensed it.
But Omo did not listen to her. Her pleas only made him cry all the more.
Still Omo did not stop, and she began crying. Now her tears hurt Omo so
“But you’re crying,” Niye pointed out. “Don’t you know it hurts to see you
cry?”
Slowly, Omo wiped the tears off his face, and lifted his gaze to her eyes.
As Niye couldn’t wipe the tears off her face because she was bound, Omo
reached out and brushed his soothing palms across her face.
Then he smiled, and Niye felt that really, it was okay. So she stopped crying
and began to stare at the table. It took a while before she decided it was her turn to
speak.
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“How is Osato?” she asked.
“She’s fine.”
Niye suddenly felt afraid. Hope nothing had happened to him. If anything
had, she would be responsible, just as she was responsible for her mother’s death
Niye shook her head slowly, and then there was silence again. Omo wanted
to know if it was indeed Niye that had killed Jonathan, but he didn’t know how to
Jonathan’s place?”
Niye did not hesitate to tell Omo all that had happened the previous night:
how she had arrived, how Jonathan had apologised to her and hastened her to
leave, how he had approached her and held her and kissed her, how he had flung
her on the bed and started making love to her, and how finally she had picked up
“I didn’t mean to do it,” she said, beginning to cry. “Believe me, Omo, I
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Omo felt sorry for Niye, and disappointed and hurt for himself. He had hoped
that Niye wasn’t the one who had ended Jonathan’s life. He had hoped she was
innocent. But lo and behold, she was guilty. He didn’t want to think of the future: if
he would ever see her out of prison again, if he would ever hold her again, if he
would ever have her for the rest of this his short life. No he didn’t want to think of
that.
“It’s alright,” he said. “Stop crying. It’s not the end of the world.” But he
himself doubted that very statement. At least it was close to the end of the world.
Niye obeyed; not because she wasn’t willing to cry anymore, but because
she had cried so much that the tears would not form much.
“Everything,” Niye answered. “They had it taped. And they said I’ll be
“Why, Niye?” Omo asked, as if puzzled. “You shouldn’t have let them. You
Omo rested his head on the table, and tapped at it slowly. He was not happy.
“I’m sorry,” Niye said. “Please forget about me and move on with your life.”
“How can I forget about you, Niye?” Omo asked in a feverish tone. “Tell me,
how?”
Niye didn’t know how; so she didn’t answer. She knew deep down that she
needed Omo, and she needed him very much. She wouldn’t want him to forget
about her. It would simply be death before death. She wanted him to remember
her, to stay with her. Why then was she lying that she wanted him to leave? Why
was she killing the truth? The yearning of her heart? Was there any point in that?
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Slowly, Omo lifted his head from the table, to stare in her eyes. Was it a
relief or a thing of joy that Niye didn’t want him to go? He couldn’t immediately
decide. But he could see faith, and trust, and hope in her eyes. She believed in him,
although she was yet to realise it. She knew that somehow he could bring her out of
this predicament. And she hoped for the day when she would cling to him forever.
Omo saw it in her eyes, but she was yet to admit it.
Niye smiled.
“Omo, you don’t have the money to hire one,” Niye reminded him.
Niye didn’t say anything. She had trusted him even before he told her to. He
deserved it. Omo leaned forward, and held her face still so he could peer into it.
There was not supposed to be any form of contact between inmates and visitors.
But as Omo had offered the officers “something”, this one standing at the door did
“You won’t die, Niye,” Omo said. “I know somehow, you’ll come out of this.”
Niye looked away from his compelling eyes. She wished Omo would come to
face the reality of the situation. There was no hope for her. Couldn’t he see that? It
But for some reason, she heard herself say, “I believe, Omo. I believe.”
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SEVENTEEN
I t was the dead of night now and Niye was sitting at one corner of the cell
watching her cell mates crowded on the floor, asleep. All of them were asleep,
their loud snoring complementing one another. They seemed so different from her.
At least, all of them were older than her and were masculine. Niye wondered if
The cell was small, smaller than her uncle’s sitting room. Originally, it should
have been designed for five people at the most. But Niye could count seventeen
people crowded on the floor. They should have been more than that, but she had
heard from a very reliable source that some had passed away a few days ago. She
Everywhere she looked, she could see roaches and mosquitoes creeping and
hovering about. Worse still, their lavatory was a small bucket, the stench from
which could actually force a statue to relocate. All their wastes for the day would be
deposited there, only to be emptied the following morning. Again, there was no
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Niye had thought her uncle’s apartment was the worst place anyone could
ever live in, but at the time, she had not known here.
As to the food they would eat; there was almost none. One had to rely on
their family members and friends to bring them food or else they’d starve to death.
And this place was made like this because it was reserved for the worst criminals.
On a good day, she would not have been placed in such a cell, but, as she
suspected, the chief wanted it so. He wanted her to suffer like she had made his
son suffer. He wanted her to die because she had killed his son. And he would be
grateful if she died in the cell, even before she was tried.
It wouldn’t be that hard, Niye thought to herself. She knew she would die in
cell. What normal human being would survive such torture? She would die soon;
she was sure of that. But she wouldn’t die of hunger. She was sure Omo would
provide for her stomach needs. How she wished he could do more. How she wished
he could somehow pull her out of this predicament. How she wished he could give
Hadn’t he done enough? Who in the world would have thought that Omo
would be the one standing by her now? Omo; the one she had so ignored and
looked down upon like he was no good. Look at Rachael, the one she loved so
dearly, her best friend. Rachael had abandoned her when she needed her the most.
And Jonathan, the one she had trusted and respected. He had raped her when he
had the slightest opportunity and denied her when it was time to face responsibility.
But Omo, so suddenly, and when she had least expected. He had plunged
himself into her life, like he had anything to gain out of that. He had accepted her
when she was nothing, had received her when she was rejected by those that
mattered. He had searched her out in the storm, putting his own life at risk, all
because he wanted her alive and well, because he cared for her. He had carried her
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when she was weak, fed her when she was hungry. He had washed her clean when
she was dirty, ignoring all the things other men would see as significant. He could
have taken advantage of her, he could have raped her that night and she wouldn’t
He had been with her till morning, ready to leave only when she was back
on her feet. And even when she had been arrested, he had not abandoned her to
her fate, but still had shown up with food to feed her, because he cared about her.
And even when she told him she had killed Jonathan, he still stayed with her just
like she knew her father would do, without despising or hating her, but giving her
have been sent from up above. It was a miracle if there was any human like him
She could spend the rest of her miserable life thinking about Omo, but for
stomach’s sake, Niye temporarily gave up the thoughts. She had deliberately
reserved the food Omo had given her earlier in the day for the moment of most
hunger, which was now. She could have eaten it then, and would still be hungry
now. So she had decided to eat it now, sleep full, and be hungry in the morning.
As she was about to begin eating, she heard someone speak from beside
her.
Niye turned in the direction of the voice. The girl’s eyes were wide open and
Slowly, the girl rose from the floor to a sitting position. Niye could observe
her well now, illumination being provided by a fluorescent bulb in the centre of the
cell. The girl had a fair skin, almost blonde. She had cat-like eyes that shone in the
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darkness, almost frightening. And her face was the shape of a banana, only wider.
Her lips were small, just like her nose was. But she was lean, and her skin was
Niye sighed inwardly. She knew this girl must have been a very beautiful
damsel before she was thrown in here. Her eyes displayed such childish innocence
that Niye could only wonder what she was doing in the midst of the hardest
criminals possible.
The girl corked her head to one side like she was leaning on someone else’s
shoulder.
Niye immediately handed the girl all of her food. This she did, not because
she was no longer hungry, but because this girl in front of her would die the next
moment if she did not have anything to eat. Niye felt for her, pity.
The girl seemed surprised that Niye was handing her all her food, and she
The girl was staring at Niye, wondering why a human being would be so
The girl searched Niye’s eyes for an ulterior motive. Finding none, she
nodded thankfully and took the food. Then she began to eat. Niye wondered when
last the girl ate or if she had ever eaten in her life: the way she was devouring
Niye shook her head slowly. She didn’t know she could be better than
anyone in this world. But this was how she was going to be soon, was it? She didn’t
“Thank you,” the girl said when she had finished eating.
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The way she looked at the empty plate, Niye knew that she wished she had
more.
“I had not eaten for three days,” she said. “Thank you for this.”
But Niye was curious about this girl. She wanted to know more about her.
“I’m Niye.”
“Two years.”
“Two years!”
The girl immediately cupped Niye’s lips before it was too late.
“Please don’t scream,” she whispered. “You’ll wake up the Amazon and that
“No.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Most of us here are like that. Some have been here for over
six years.”
Niye made to exclaim again, but she remembered Beauty’s warnings and
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“I didn’t do anything,” Niye said. “I was accused of killing one Eriso
Onaghinor, and-”
“Yes.”
Niye inhaled deeply, and exhaled slowly. Then she went on to tell the girl her
story. Surprisingly she didn’t feel bad about it now. It just seemed part of a normal
conversation.
Niye didn’t know what to say to that. Really, should people always get what
they deserved? She didn’t know. But if they should, why then was she in this
“As for me,” the girl interrupted her line of thought, “I was accused of
“I didn’t do it,” the girl responded. “I found an abandoned baby and took
him home. The next morning, some woman showed up at my door with the police
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Niye was sad for Beauty. If anyone didn’t deserve to be here, it was her. And
“For two years now, I’ve been here,” Beauty continued. “It’s like they’ve
“Oh please,” the other girl replied. “I’ve gotten over it. This is going to be
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“God forbid!” Niye was forced to exclaim. “How can you say a thing like
that?”
Niye didn’t know what to say. She had been in the cell for less than twenty-
four hours and she had already come to the conclusion that she would not survive
the next twenty-four. Didn’t someone who had been there for over two years have
The girl shook her head, and then she looked up at Niye.
“I was a prostitute,” Beauty said. “It was the only way to survive.”
Niye was touched. She had cried all her life when she lost her virginity to
Jonathan, yet look at someone who had lost it to hundreds of different people. Truly,
she was touched, especially when she noticed tears in the other girl’s eyes.
“Please don’t cry,” Niye urged. “It’s no point crying over what is past.”
The girl shook her head in agreement. Obviously she had always told herself
“I wish I could have a life though,” she said. “I mean, I’m barely nineteen. I
Niye felt it was time she became an optimist, if only for Beauty’s sake.
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“No matter how old you are or what circumstances you find yourself, always
remember that it is never too late to start all over again. You always have a
choice.”
Beauty nodded her head slowly. Obviously she believed. Niye smiled.
“You think I’ll come out of this place someday?” she asked.
The girl smiled. What a beautiful smile. The kind that was charming,
enchanting, and hopeful. Niye had no choice whatsoever but to smile back. Smile
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EIGHTEEN
T he IPO had barely entered his office this morning when there was a knock at
the door.
“We have it on tape,” he said. “You can listen if you want to.”
The detective was nodding his head slowly, and the IPO was convinced he
meant what he said. But wasn’t it a miracle that she confessed? So he would wrap
up this case soon, and maybe get a medal and a promotion, and fame and respect.
And he would be free from the fiery troubles of Chief Onaghinor and the
Commissioner of Police.
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The detective smiled lightly, proudly. “Thank you, sir.” Then he seemed to
“Yes?”
“She admitted to stabbing him with a knife, but not strangling him
afterwards.”
The IPO seemed amused. This must be the most ridiculous thing he had ever
“But she admitted to killing him, didn’t she?” he pointed out, chuckling.
“How then could someone kill him again after she had already killed him?”
“Maybe he didn’t die when she killed him,” the detective suggested. “And
“And maybe she just does not want to admit using the rope,” the IPO
suggested.
The detective inhaled deeply. Did this man have any brains at all? He
doubted it. Maybe the IPO was one of those people that reacted with only their
spinal cords.
“She would have no reason to handle the knife barehanded and then handle
the rope with gloves,” Detective Udoh said. “So someone else must have handled
the rope.”
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The IPO was silent. He searched his mind for any other question with which
to challenge the fact that someone else must have entered the room after Niye had
left. He found none. It meant that this Niye girl did not kill that Eriso. That was what
the detective was trying to tell him. What then would happen to his swiftness in
wrapping up the case, his medal, his promotion, his fame and respect? What would
happen to them?
Nothing would happen to them. Since the girl had confessed to killing the
boy, the rope didn’t matter. It was no point bringing it in. They would survive with
the confession and her prints on the knife. That would be enough reason to convict
her. They would make sure no one knew about the rope, not even the prosecution.
“Detective,” he began. “It’s too late to begin investigations all over again,
especially when there are no prints on the rope. We would have to rely on the knife
“Might be,” the detective agreed. “But it also means that whoever used the
The IPO grimaced. What was this detective trying to be-a saint?
and my job is to investigate and come up with the truth, so that justice would be
“Spare me, Detective,” the IPO said, irritated. “You really don’t get the
“Now this is Chief Onaghinor’s son we’re talking about,” the IPO reminded
him. “The chief is on my neck. He wants justice, and he wants it fast. The
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Commissioner of Police will have my head on a tray if I don’t deliver. Let alone the
“Besides,” the IPO continued. “Imagine the honour we’ll receive should we
solve this case fast…and the money. The chief is rich, so you can just imagine.”
“It’s Thursday,” the IPO still went on. “We should get across to the DPR
immediately.”
NIYE WAS sweating in the rays of the morning sun. It had been at about six o’clock
when the warder had appeared and told them it was time for a little exercise. Niye
had been excited, happy that at least she would be given the chance to stretch her
But here she was at the back of the prison yard cutting grasses and weed
low; she and Beauty. But was this normal, that is legal, for an un-sentenced criminal
to be engaged in hard labour? Niye did not know. All she knew now was that she
“Finished!” she announced in glee. “I told you I’ll finish before you.”
Niye stopped cutting to look at the portion of bush that had been given to
Beauty to cut low. Her jaws dropped in amazement. There was almost not a single
Niye shook her head, still amazed. So there was someone in this world more
“Let me help you with the rest of your portion,” Beauty offered, coming over
to Niye.
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“Are you sure you want to do that?” Niye asked.
Without hesitation, Niye handed her the machete, and sat on a dead log of
“Believe me, this is the easiest thing you can ever find to do here, apart
Niye could not believe that. There must be other simpler things to do.
“What?”
“There are many things involved, Niye,” she said. Then she bent low and
resumed cutting.
There was something about her voice that frightened Niye. What were these
many things involved? Niye was determined to know, and as Beauty finished
clearing her portion and came to sit by her, Niye decided to ask.
Beauty turned away from her and looked up at the bright sky.
Her head descended from the sky, and she turned to face Niye.
“Have you noticed that no one has approached you since you came here,
but me?”
“Yes…why?”
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“And did you notice I had to talk to you only when it was night and they were
all asleep?”
“Yes…why?”
“Yesterday was your day of grace,” Beauty explained. “And tonight, you will
be initiated.”
“The Dungeon of Bones,” Beauty replied. “That’s what our cell is called.”
“You could call it that…but I’ll simply call it a place where the strongest
survive.”
“Survival,” Beauty said plainly. “There are those who are strong and those
who are weak. And the weak must serve the strong. Obviously the strong are the
hardened criminals. You only need to look at them, and you’ll know they are guilty
of whatever crime they were accused of committing, and perhaps even more
heinous crimes. Most of them have committed crimes ranging from armed robbery
to cold-blooded murder.”
“You must do anything they ask you to,” Beauty continued, “anything at all.”
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“What if I don’t?” Niye dared to ask.
“Please do,” Beauty advised. “You don’t want to be marked for destruction,
do you?”
Niye shook her head impulsively. No one wants to be marked for destruction.
“To what?”
“You’re beautiful, Niye,” Beauty told her. “Most of them have agreed to
Niye’s mouth fell open to its widest. “Why did you let them?”
“Look,” Beauty continued. “You just have to be strong, okay? It takes great
“You’ll have to drink urine from the toilet,” Beauty informed her. “And you’ll
NINETEEN
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O mo was on the move. The previous day, he had assured Niye he would get
her a very sound lawyer, not knowing where or how he was going to fulfil
that promise. And at night, he had been forced to speak with Rachael who had
suggested he contacted one Barrister Maria ‘Tas. The woman was a human right
activist, she had explained, so it was unlikely she would be overly interested in
Omo had had no choice but to agree with Rachael, and now he was on his
way to the barrister’s chamber. But before he left home, he had instructed Rachael
to go to the station to see how Niye was doing. He hoped Niye would accept
Omo reached the building with the address Rachael had given him, then he
stopped the cab and got off. It was a three-storeyed office building, so he had to
spend some time scanning the various offices till he found the one he was
searching for.
Maria ‘Tas.
Legal practitioner.
He nodded his head and entered the premises. Then he climbed up the
stairs to the third floor where the barrister’s chamber was located. He walked on
down the corridor until he reached her chamber, and then he knocked on the door.
He mumbled something and looked up, then he entered. The first thing that
caught his eye was a smallish girl working zealously on a computer. She wore her
hair in bunches and her eyes in glasses. Must be the secretary, Omo thought.
“Excuse me,” Omo said, and she looked up at him. “I want to see Barrister
‘Tas.”
“Name, please?”
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Omo told her his name. She spoke into the phone for a while. Then she
continued smiling.
Once inside, Omo stood by the door. He should have continued to move,
till he reached the barrister’s table, or he should have greeted her; but he stood still
and said nothing. He was dumb and paralysed because of the awe that had struck
The office was enchanting, first class. The floor was completely rugged
white, so were the walls painted white. Even the desk at which the barrister sat was
white, and the book shelves were white. The computer in front of the barrister was
white too, so was the air conditioners affixed to the wall. The office was simple, but
Omo was beginning to consider turning back and disappearing the way he
had come in as this place was obviously meant for those above his age and class.
The barrister looked up. He stiffened and swallowed hard, like a little boy about to
The barrister was staring at him with inquiring eyes. And even her eyes were
sparkling white. She was a fair lady with a matured and intelligent look. She was
“Please,” she said, directing him with her hand to the chair opposite her.
Omo suddenly seemed to realise himself, and moved to the chair opposite
“I am Barrister Maria ‘Tas,” the barrister introduced. “How may I help you?”
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Omo cleared his throat and leaned forward like someone important who had
“I have a friend who will be charged to court soon,” he began. “And I’ll like
“Your friend,” she said, and Omo nodded. “So tell me, what about your
friend’s parents?”
“No.”
The lawyer flinched lightly in her seat. Then slowly, she corked her head to
one side.
Then she shook her head in disbelief. “How come she’s being charged with
murder?”
“So make me,” the lawyer told him. Obviously she was running out of
patience.
He shook his head some more before he went on to tell the lawyer all the
matters that have arisen in Niye’s life-all the ones he knew, and how he knew them.
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And when it came to matters on ground, he made sure he emphasised all the
events where Niye’s rights had been infringed upon. When he finished, he looked
up at the barrister’s face. Omo could not discern this expression in her eyes:
The barrister looked away from him. Then slowly again, she turned to face
him. There were tears in her eyes, and Omo was shocked, or was he surprised.
Perhaps confused.
Omo nodded.
“I don’t know.”
“Of course,” she replied. “These law enforcement agents need someone to
stand up to them. Can you imagine how much abuse the girl is going through? She
Omo could not imagine, so he could only shrug his shoulders. But he wanted
to tell her that it was Chief Onaghinor who was involved here. He wanted to remind
the barrister that sometimes things worked differently when it came to the big
names. He even wanted her to know that Niye had already made a confession. But
before he could open his mouth to speak, the lawyer was already on her feet and
AND HE waited outside the Oko Prison. He waited for hours before the barrister
came out again. The expression on her face instantly told him that all was not well.
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In fact it seemed nothing was well. The barrister was muttering something as she
She flung her briefcase carelessly to the back seat of the BMW-5 series that
was her car, then she entered and started the ignition. Omo did not need anyone to
tell him it was time to go. He wouldn’t see Niye today as he had hoped. Too bad.
He opened the door and entered the passenger’s seat. Then the barrister
zoomed off. Till they reached her chamber again, she did not utter as much as one
word. Omo began to wonder what she had found out or who she was angry with.
Once at the office premises, Barrister Maria opened the car door and
stepped out. Then she took her briefcase and started marching towards her
chamber. Omo followed like a zombie. Actually that was what he was at the
moment.
She breezed past the secretary, opened the door of her office and entered.
She left it open so that Omo who was still far behind could enter when he arrived.
And when he did, he first of all heaved a sigh of relief. At least she knew he still
existed. Why then had she ignored him all the way from the Prison house?
He entered, shut the door, and moved to sit opposite her like he had done
earlier in the day. But she was not looking at him. She was staring at the computer
The barrister turned her gaze from the screen to his face. It was then she
exploded.
“Can you imagine how our justice system is being run?” the barrister fumed.
“So because a girl is accused of killing Chief Onaghinor’s son, she has to die even
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Omo didn’t really know whether that question was actually being directed at
“Imagine how many people are in that cell,” the barrister continued, “and
living under poor hygienic conditions. Some of them have been there for years
“I most definitely will!” the barrister said firmly. “I will stop all this trash. I
“But-”
“And when I protested her being kept there, they were not ashamed to tell
me that Chief Onaghinor wanted it so, so I couldn’t do anything about it. Can you
imagine!”
Wouldn’t this one slap a judge in court? He knew it was time to calm her down
“I know they’re wrong,” Omo said. “But please, let’s take things one after
the other.”
The lawyer opened her mouth to speak but it was like she had run out of
words, so she shut it back. Then she looked away. She was staring at the shelf to
her side. When she was tired, she turned to face Omo. Then she exhaled all her
anger through her nostrils, and it was time to brief Omo on the details of her
Omo became afraid. Was there no hope? Was that was she was saying?
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“She has already given them a confession,” the lawyer continued. “And she
“And there is evidence that she did. Her prints are on the knife. So…”
tried as a juvenile…And the prosecution would not go into any form of bargain.”
“Why?”
Barrister ‘Tas was silent, pensive. Omo wondered what she was thinking.
“I have this feeling in me,” she informed Omo, “that she was not responsible
Barrister ‘Tas was quiet again. Then slowly her face descended to Omo’s
face.
“If at all he died from the stabs of the knife, then the major cause of death
would be a haemorrhage,” she reasoned. “And since he was stabbed between ten
and eleven, he could not have died within the same period of time if the true cause
of death was loss of blood. Besides, my client told me he was still alive when she
Omo reasoned what she was telling him, and found himself agreeing with
“In fact,” he added. “He should have been mobile to an extent. He should
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“You’re right,” the lawyer agreed. “I think we’ll have to work along that line
“Alright then, we’ll have an independent medical examiner carry out a post-
mortem, and tell us the actual cause of death. We’ll also have to find a way to
nullify her earlier confession with the fact that the lad didn’t die before her very
eyes. She only assumed he would die, and that was why she confessed to killing
Omo hit the sides of his head to make it work more efficiently, and then he
“And the medical examiner would have to inform the court that it is
impossible for a man to die from excessive bleeding in less than an hour.”
“It is possible to die from loss of blood in less than an hour depending on the
nature of wound and some heriditory disorders,” the lawyer said blandly. “But in the
Then Omo began to scratch at his head. Just a look around him reminded
him that this place was one for the upper class. Hope he was going to be able to
afford her services. Had he even any money anywhere in the world?
“Em…barrister,” he said.
“Yes?”
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The barrister broke down in a smile, the way one would smile when they
“I won’t charge you,” she said. “I’m sure you can’t pay.”
Omo was forced to admit with a nod of the head, and his face turned to the
“I just want to help,” she continued. “I feel sympathy for your friend, and am
proud of the fact that you were bold enough to come to me.”
Omo waited to hear more, but as she said nothing else, he knew she was
done. He lifted up his face and smiled, the way a naïve girl would smile if she were
“I will.”
Omo turned and strolled towards the exit. It was only when he reached the
door that a matter of great importance and concern arose in his mind-something he
The lawyer broke down in a smile again, the same way she had smiled when
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TWENTY
I t was night now, and the cell was illuminated by the dim light provided by the
web-covered light bulb. Niye was seated at one corner watching in disgust at her
cellmates as they busied themselves with gambling, drinking, and smoking. From
all indication, they looked content, or even happy, with their present situation. Niye
And she wished Beauty was there by her side. She wished she could talk to
someone; she was lonely. But she couldn’t, because Beauty was somewhere at the
other end of the cell, playing the humble servant. Niye sighed as she realised that
soon, indeed tonight, she would be initiated. And as she was weak, she would join
It didn’t matter to her that soon she would be a slave. It should have, but it
didn’t. Why would it? Her life was going to be over soon, and it would not do her
much harm to spend the rest of it in glorious service to humanity. Niye was even
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willing to learn the secret of happiness in a place like this, and be happy with her
But she was happy now-a little happy-for seeing Osato again and reconciling
with Rachael. She would have been much happier if she had seen Omo as well. But
for some reason, he had not shown up, and it pained her. And talking about
Rachael; it was unimaginable how she had cried and begged for Niye’s forgiveness.
Niye could even sense that she felt some sort of gratitude to her for ending
Jonathan’s life.
Then suddenly she noticed that0 her cellmates had been assembled
together and discussing in low tones. She turned her gaze to Beauty who had a look
in her eyes that Niye could interpret without much effort. It was time for the
initiation.
Slowly, Niye rose to her feet as the cell approached her. They were twenty in
number, ferocious and murderous-looking creatures. They were like nothing she
had ever seen in her life, especially the one in front. It took a while before Niye
could actually decide whether she was a ‘she’ or a ‘he’ or an ‘it’. The only reason
she could be called a female were the two pointed objects on her chest. Otherwise,
Niye swallowed hard as they reached where she was and stopped. There
was utter silence before the cellmate in front smiled. Niye wondered if the smile
was supposed to ease her fears. If anything, it was bringing her tears. Then the
cellmate’s face turned to stone. It was almost the shape of a crescent moon. Her
eyes were round like those of a pig, and her nose was like that of a baboon. She
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“Niye,” Niye told her.
She tasted the name in her ears. It didn’t seem pleasant enough; she
frowned.
“We’ll call you Baraga,” she said, and looked to the others who nodded
enthusiastically in approval.
“This is the Dungeon of The Bones,” the crescent moon continued. “And I am
the Amazon.”
“Now, I would give other members of this most noble organization a chance
to introduce themselves.”
She stepped aside to let the introductions begin. Niye had thought that the
handshakes. But she was terribly wrong. There was the exchange of names quite
alright, but not of smiles or handshakes. In place of those were slaps across the
face-the way the people of Kuvukiland in that South African movie, Mr. Bones,
greeted. Even Beauty could not help but do the same. Niye thought Beauty’s slap
was more lethal than all the others put together. Anyway it didn’t matter. She was
When they were done, it was time for the Amazon to speak again.
Niye nodded. She didn’t know whether it was in agreement or not. But she
just nodded.
“But you wouldn’t be a slave,” the Amazon continued. “You’re too pretty to
be a slave.”
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Niye didn’t remember whether she had anticipated this last statement or
not. But right now, her mind was blank. She looked to Beauty whose eyes were
blank. Then she turned away to stare at the wall to her side.
stress.”
Beauty nodded and proceeded to bring the bucket of waste and urine. Then
“You would drink from this,” the Amazon said to Niye. “Three sips and you
She was stretching the bucket at Niye, but Niye was still looking away,
But Niye would not; the Amazon became infuriated. There was absolute
silence.
Then Niye turned to look at the one who had spoken, her mind abruptly
coming back to life. It was abusive for her to be subjected to such barbaric
treatments, and she concluded firmly that she would not stand for it. She just
“I will not be your mistress,” Niye said definitely, “neither would I drink of
that concoction.”
The Dungeon roared in disbelief, and each member looked to the other with
their eyes bulging out of their sockets. What was this weakling thinking? They
wondered. Didn’t she know that the last person who disrespected the Amazon had
her life terminated? Hope Niye was normal. And Beauty; she couldn’t help but
shake her head in disapproval. She admired Niye’s courage, but she knew it would
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But the Amazon didn’t flinch. Her face remained the stone that it had been.
Her eyes narrowed as she observed Niye from eyes to toes and back to eyes
The Amazon continued to smile. For minutes she smiled, and then her smile
vanished abruptly. She began taking off her clothes. Niye was confused now, as the
Amazon was done with her clothes and was approaching her. What did she want to
do?
Niye looked to the other cellmates. Their faces were expressionless. She
looked to Beauty who only shook her head. Niye wondered what Beauty was trying
to tell her.
When the Amazon was close to Niye, she pulled Niye to herself, the way
Jonathan had done the night she had killed him. Niye’s heart began to knock wildly
even as everyone else was quiet. She was sure they could hear her heart beat. In
one sudden movement, the Amazon tore apart Niye’s prison wear which was a
cotton pinafore and clasped Niye closely, so that their bodies were literally pressing
against each other. Then she pushed her, so that Niye fell to the ground, the
The madness began. The Amazon’s hands were all over Niye’s breasts. The
message was clear, and it was time to act. As the thoughts of Jonathan on top of
her filled her mind, Niye began to hit impulsively, violently. She didn’t mind who she
was hitting or where she was hitting. She just hit, and continued to hit, as long as
her hands were free.The Amazon retaliated with several slaps and blows across her
face. And soon, a fight broke out between them. Niye was hitting and slapping with
all the power and might she had and the Amazon was retaliating and the Dungeon
was watching. They rolled over each other from one end of the cell to another.
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“Stupid imbecile,” the Amazon yelled at one point. “I’ll end your life.”
And she meant it. Instantly her palms were compressing the walls of Niye’s
neck together, making it difficult for the girl to breathe. Niye wriggled and struggled
to be free from this lethal grip, but it was pointless as the grip was purely
professional. She was coughing soon, and her attempts at freedom became weaker
Finally Niye surrendered to the superior power of the Amazon, ready for the
end. She could see the end. Niye could see herself in a race, approaching the finish
line. She was tired as she ran, and she could have collapsed; but she did not. Her
father, and mother, and Jonathan were beyond the line, urging her to continue, to
Beauty was watching, feeling an urge to move forward and save the one
who had saved her only the night before. She managed to restrain herself, just
barely. But when she saw Niye’s iris disappear from the screen of her eyes, and her
teeth begin to chatter, and her wriggling coming to a halt; it was then she decided
Without thinking any further, Beauty flung herself at the one who was the
head of the Dungeon, her arm wrapped tightly around the Amazon’s neck. The
Amazon let go of Niye’s neck, and slowly rose to her feet, staggering in every
Amazon. But when the Amazon fell to her knees, the Dungeon decided that matters
were getting out of hand. They attacked Beauty, beating and clubbing her until she
finally let go. And even at that, they didn’t stop beating her.
Suddenly they seemed to notice Niye who had rolled to one side of the cell,
and decided she needed some beating too. They rushed to where Niye was, and
began to beat her mercilessly with everything they could find. But Niye couldn’t
fight back. There was no point in that. She simply lay lifeless on the ground and let
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them beat her, till she was bleeding from her mouth, and her nostrils; and her arms
and legs were grazed and her face was swolen. It hurt, so she began to cry. It didn’t
matter to them whether it hurt or whether she was crying. All they wanted to do
was teach her a lesson she would not live to learn from.
And they would have succeeded but for the timely intervention of the
“What is going on here?” one of them asked, as another fumbled with the
lock.
The Dungeon didn’t stop to answer the question. They didn’t even hear it.
Their minds now were wild, like those of some primeval beast, having just one
instinct: to kill. So they continued to pound on the body that was on the ground.
It was only when the warders had entered the cell and had brandished their
weapons and clubs that the Dungeon knew it was time to retreat. Niye just lay on
“That serves you right,” he told her. “You should not have killed the Chief’s
son.”
she still had life in her because she could still move.
“Which hospital?” the first questioned. “Let her be alone in one of those old
cells. The doctor will see her there. She would recover.”
They all nodded in agreement, and one hauled Niye over his shoulders. Niye
managed to raise her face to look at Beauty who was lying at the far end of the cell,
and wave to her, her goodbyes, wondering if she would ever see her again.
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But she knew she wouldn’t. Niye had made up her mind that she wouldn’t
live to see Beauty again. Just take a look at Niye, her suffering and pains. Did she
deserve them? Did she deserve to be in this situation? Wouldn’t it be better if she
were dead? Of course it would. Niye could have taken her life, but that would be
suicide. So she would wait until she was taken to court and there she would begin
the process to end her life. She didn’t care what Barrister ‘Tas had, and would tell
her to say or do. She would say and do what she wanted. At least sometimes, one
had to admit that it was over, that there was no more hope. And for her, the time
was now.
But in the moment, she continued to stare at Beauty with tears in her eyes,
hoping that the other girl would someday be free from this bondage, to live her life
the way she wanted, the way that was right. That is, if she was not squashed by the
TWENTY-ONE
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A nd when it was Monday, when Niye was arraigned in court, she declared that
It had been at about ten o’clock that Monday morning when the judge had
arrived, and the hearing had begun. Before then, the court room had been filled to
the brim with people from all works of life. The curious masses were there, so were
the “fans” of Chief Onaghinor. Even the Commisioner of Police was there and so
were Chief Onaghinor and wife. The media also was well represented. In fact, they
almost outnumbered all the other people gathered there. Omo was there too, and
Rachael. It was only Osato and Niye’s uncle that were absent.
The prosecution had been ready. They had all it took to seal the case, and
they were confident. The confession and the prints on the knife would be all it took
to seal the case. They had even planned on putting forward the notion that Niye
possibly killed another female. She might very well be a serial killer, who knows.
But the defence was ready as well. At least, so they thought. All through the
weekend Barrister Maria ‘Tas and Omo had been busy putting their facts together.
They had consulted with a medical practitioner who had told them that it was
impossible for the lad to die from haemorrhage in less than ninety minutes, given
the nature of wound. A post-mortem confirmed injuries and fractures around his
neck. Possibly, he could have been strangled; and of course Niye knew nothing
about that. So Niye was not guilty, and that was what Barrister ‘Tas had told her to
plead.
But to the surprise of the entire court, when Niye was asked to plead
“guilty” or “not guilty” to the two-count murder charge heaped on her, she lifted up
her face, looked round the court, and then at the prosecution counsel, Barrister
The court had roared in disbelief or in confusion or both. Some were shaking
their heads, and others were muttering to one another, all forgetting that it was
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illegal to speak in court. They could all be charged with contempt if they were not
careful. But they didn’t care. Why should they, when the judge himself was in the
The judge had even had to have the charges read again, and this time, Niye
hesitated a little longer. Her face was to the ground. Then slowly she lifted it up and
turned again to Omo with tears in her eyes. Then she said again that she was guilty.
At that point, Barrister ‘Tas had shot up from her seat. Perhaps her client did
not understand the charges levelled against her, she had explained. Her client
probably was not all together mentally fit. How could she be fit when she was
thrown in the same cell as those that were condemned for life? She must have gone
through some form of physical and mental torture and abuse that in the moment
she was in a daze. The defence concluded by asking for a recess with her client.
And immediately, the prosecution sprang to his feet; but before he could
The prosecution smiled and began his nullification starting from Niye’s last
statement. The lady was normal, he had begun. Wasn’t it clear enough? What she
was, was a criminal tired of crime. She had killed two innocent citizens of the
country, and obviously she thought it was time she became extinict before she
killed another. It seemed to be, however, that the defence was trying to force her to
do what she did not want to, and she was simply standing up to her rights.
Barrister Maria was sealed to her seat. She could only wonder what was
wrong with her client. In their last encounter the previous day, she had told Niye
what and what to say, assuring her that she was not responsible for the lad’s death.
And Niye had seemed to believe her. What then had so suddenly come over her
The judge ordered that she be kept in custody. The case was then adjourned
to the next Monday when the verdict would be passed. The case was over;
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everyone knew the case was over, even Barrister ‘Tas. There was nothing that could
The media immediately flocked around every notable person in sight. Chief
Onaghinor was thankful that the case was sealed fast, and reminded the media that
he once told them that whoever it was that had killed his son would have to face
the full wrath of the law. And he advised all Nigerians not to take the law into their
hands in any given situation, but to take all matters of distress to the court of law
levels and bringing offenders to book. He praised his “boys” for their alacrity in
making sure that the offender in this case was rounded up quickly before she had
Barrister ‘Tas had simply stomped out of the court room with the media all
over her as she got into her car and zoomed off. How could she speak after what
her client had done to her? It was an embarrassment beyond measure, such that
she had never received in her entire life time. It was a shame and a disgrace. To put
it simply, Niye had made her look purposeless. And that made her angry and bitter.
Niye had stayed where she was and continued to stare at Omo, tears rolling
down her face. He had stared back at her, his face blank and expressionless like he
was unconcerned as to what was happening. But he was confused. God, he was
bewildered. He was wondering what had come over Niye, what had made her
decide it was all over even before the trial had begun. Why had she so suddenly
chosen to give up? Why had she conceded? Why was she so heartless, so
ungrateful?
He had gone to Barrister ‘Tas because of her. He had spent the whole
weekend with the barrister, all for her sake. He had not gone to school today
because of her, even though he knew that his exams were fast approaching. And
then after all the sacrifice, all the labour, she had opened her mouth and declared
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that she was guilty. But why hadn’t she said so all this time? Why had she made
Omo shut his eyes and looked away from her. And when he reopened them,
the court room was empty. He was alone. How long he had shut his eyes, he did not
know. And even now that he realised he was alone, he made no attempt to leave.
Where was he going to go to? Where? He could not go to Barrister Maria. It was no
point. And he could not go home now. There was still no point.
As much as he hated it, there was only one place he thought could go, only
one place he needed to go. And that was the Oko Prison. He didn’t want to go, but
at the same time he wanted to go. He wanted to know what had come over, and
into Niye. He wanted to know if she was alright. He wanted to know if she cared the
slightest bit about him: his feelings, his sufferings, all for her sake. But really, he
The next Monday the verdict would be passed on her, and everyone knew
what that would be. Niye would simply be sentenced to death. She could have
passed for life imprisonment, but not with Chief Onaghinor in the background. She
would have to die, and that genuinely pained Omo, as much as he hated it. He
didn’t want to think about the past, about the laughter, and about the tears.
Neither did he want to think of the future. Was there even a future now? He did not
know.
He wanted to die now because Niye was going to die and she had made him
suffer for no reason. And for the first time in a long time, he agreed to accept the
fact that it was okay to die. He was HIV positive, wasn’t he? What then was the
virus waiting for before it manifested itself? It should do so right now. He didn’t
care.
With much effort after an hour or so, Omo rose to his feet and plodded his
way to the Oko Prison. He should have taken a cab, but he didn’t want to. He didn’t
want to be quick. He wanted to be slow so he could have enough time to think of all
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the bad things that had happened to him in his life. He was the worst human on
So now he was sitting at a table in the visitation room, Niye opposite him. No
one else was there. He was looking at her, but she wasn’t looking at him. She was
looking at the table aimlessly, pointlessly. And just looking at her, Omo became
almost could not recognize her anymore. Her neck was thin now like that of an
ostrich. The skeletal outline of her face could also be traced without much effort.
She had suddenly developed high cheek bones. And her skin was darker, and
rumpled.
But he was still angry that she had agreed not to try, at least try, to make
herself whole again. She had agreed to drown in the sufferings in which she had
been immersed. She had agreed to give up. And the fact that she was
inconsiderate about him pained him the most, made matters worse.
After a while, Omo cleared his throat and decided to break the wall of silence
Niye’s hand moved to her forehead. She remained speecheless in her seat.
“I’m asking you a question,” Omo informed her. “You didn’t kill him. The
post-mortem confirmed that there were injuries to his neck region indicating that he
must have been strangled. Why did you say you killed him?”
Slowly Niye looked up at him, and then she looked down again. His face was
frightening to behold, showing both sadness and anger in a way that she had never
“I said why did you do it?” Omo’s voice had shot up suddenly, forcing Niye
to look up at him impulsively, to shudder like one suffering from a severe cold, and
to speak.
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“Do you know anything about a rope or string around his neck?”
“Y-Yes,” she whispered. “The police mentioned that he was strangled with a
“Omo, I had no choice,” she said. “It’s better to die than to go on living like
this. You should have seen what they put me through. I can’t go on.”
“A wise person once told me that whether we live or die, are happy or sad,
rich or poor; it’s a choice we have to make. How about that, Niye? What happened
to that?”
Niye looked away from him and bit at her lower lip. He didn’t understand,
did he? He didn’t know what she had been through, what she felt. He didn’t know
what it was like to have no choice. And just seeing him and looking in his eyes
made Niye cry all the more. She was wasting his time, she was ruining his life. And
who knows, maybe he was already tired of her. Otherwise why didn’t he show up
throughout the weekend? Couldn’t he even just come to face the truth? It was over
with her. He should leave her to her fate, and go on to live his life to the full.
Omo shut his eyes again as the words rang in his brain. The pain and anger
that stung at his heart now was better imagined than felt. So Niye really did not
care about him. She did not appreciate all the things he had done for her. She did
not even appreciate him being there for her now, and trying to make sure she was
alright. She didn’t even want to see him. She wanted him to go away. Just like that.
Then he reopened his eyes and found her staring in his face.
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“Just leave me alone, Omo,” she said. “Go on with your life.”
“So this is how you are,” he said. “You don’t appreciate all I’ve done for you,
the sacrifices I’ve made for you. You don’t appreciate them.”
Niye was silent. She didn’t know what to say. Omo was misunderstanding
her, and of course it didn’t feel good. All she really wanted was the best for him.
“So you don’t want to see me again.” Omo’s voice was gradually ascending.
“After all I’ve done for you,” Omo continued in bitter rage. “After the
sacrifices I’ve made, after putting my life at risk for your sake, you still have the
guts to tell me to leave? Have I been wasting my time with you? What have you
done in return? Nothing. Even gratitude you can’t show. What manner of person are
you?”
Niye suddenly found her temper shooting up. What did Omo expect her to
do for him? What did he want from her? He should not have helped her at all if he
wanted anything in return because clearly, she could give him nothing. Or did she
even beg him to go through so much sacrifice for her sake in the first place?
“Don’t yell at me, Omo,” she said sternly. “Don’t…I mean, what do you really
want from me? I didn’t ask you for your help or compassion and you can take it
Omo was startled at her, and his anger rose beyond measure. He could have
hit her if she was someone else; but as she was still Niye, he could not bring
“I will yell,” he said. “You are so ungrateful…I cared about you, I did-”
“You cared about me,” Niye retaliated, “and you didn’t show up throughout
the weekend even to see how I was doing. Do you know what I’ve been through?
Do you?”
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“I don’t want to know,” Omo told her. “Do you know what I’ve been through
myself…all for your sake? I’ve been running around town looking for help, meeting
with doctors…just to make sure you come out alive. And even today, I didn’t go to
school…all because of you. Niye, why? Why are you treating me this way?”
“Leave me alone, Omo,” Niye said harshly. “Go away. Go and face your life.”
Omo became silent. He did not know what else to say, so he just stared at
Niye. Niye stared back at him, and it was clear from the look on their faces that
they were both trying to keep their temper in check. The officer at the door was
Slowly Omo rose to his feet, maintaining his eye contact with her. He had
made up his mind now because he realised she was right. It was pointless helping
her, having compassion for her. He would put her behind him and move on with his
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TWENTY-TWO
N iye sat still after Omo left. Everything had happened so fast, that suddenly
her mind was blank. It was only when the officer at the door came to usher
her back to her cell that her mind came back to life. Humbly, she followed him like
a lamb being led to the slaughter, to the lonely place that was her home, even till
She entered, and the officer locked the barred gate. It was an empty, small,
narrow cell, more like a corridor. But it was her cell, and she preferred it to the
bigger dungeon. At least here, no one would come and ask her to be their mistress
neither would she be bullied or beaten. But here also, she was alone. No Beauty, no
Niye moved to the end of the cell and sat on the bare floor. She looked
around, as if looking for someone or something. And finding none, she began to cry.
It was all she could do now-cry, for her life was miserably hopeless. She was the
She was exhausted, because she had not eaten all through the day. Besides,
the effects of the beating she had received the previous week were still heavily
fresh. Her body ached as she sat there against the wall, so she lay down, and shut
her eyes, and found herself praying for sleep-or death-to overtake her.
Slowly, Niye’s mind drifted to the life she once had, when her father was
alive. It was happy and blissful, and then suddenly when he was gone, it was gone.
Everything had turned for the worse. Things would have remained at worse, but
they began their quick journey to worst, the very day Jonathan had forced her the
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first time. And he did because her uncle had failed to give her the money to register
And then she had lost her mother too, and her uncle, and everyone that
meant anything to her. But worse of all, she had lost her life. All her dreams, her
hopes, her ambitions, her desires: all of them were gone, just like a passing day. But
most painful was the fact that she had lost Omo. There would be no more miracles
for her now; no more miracles. Her life was as good as doom.
She thought about her father and his dreams for her. He had always wanted
the best for her. He had always dreamed of the day when she would stand shoulder
to shoulder with the worlds greatest. He had always believed she could, and she
too had always believed. She was good at writing, and she hoped to be a successful
writer someday. But now, she would not be. Not anymore. Now she had let her
father down, and she was sure that wherever he was, he would not be proud of her.
But she did have a choice, didn’t she? Wasn’t Omo right that she had a
choice? She could have pleaded “Not guilty”. She had wanted to, but she felt it was
useless, pointless. She was going to die, and she needed not to be fought for. She
needed nothing to delay the whole process. She was already ready to die.
Even if she had said she was innocent, and somehow the Barrister was able
to pull something off, what life still had she? She would still have nothing and her
future would still have been bleak. She would still have continued suffering and
eventually she would have had to give up. So it was better she did what she did. It
But now, she had lost Omo. She had lost him completely.
It was not her fault, she told herself. He was insensitive to her. He claimed
he cared for her and yet he didn’t show up throughout the weekend, even to ask
how she was doing. What sort of caring was that? And then when she told him, he
began to yell at her like her uncle always used to do. Besides, why did he have to
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emphasize that he had done so much for her and she had done nothing in return?
For God’s sakes, what did he want from her? What did he expect her to do for him?
So all this while, while he helped her, he had an ulterior motive. He was expecting
something from her. That was bad because she had absolutely nothing to offer.
But once upon a time, when she was at the brink of collapse, Omo had
appeared from nowhere like an angel, and had helped her stay on her feet, kept her
strong. He had risked his life for her; yea, he had sacrificed himself for her. He had
gone beyond the realms of friendship to a realm Niye could not readily define, and
had saved her, been there for her. And in the bad times, especially the bad times,
Niye remembered the day they became friends: when he had approached
her and expressed his feelings for her. He was such a naïve little boy then, and she
had given him little or no regards. But they had grown together, and had been
laugh partners for a very long time until the day she was raped, and all of a sudden
he was there to comfort her. He had simply changed from being a clown, and the
serious part of him had taken over. When her uncle threw her out of his house, and
she had nowhere else to go, Omo had shown up somehow in the storm where she
Niye remembered the smile of relief that had spread across her face when
he said those words. She had simply relaxed and trusted him to take her to a place
that was out of the storm, a place that was safe. And he had carried her across his
shoulder and had taken her home…And even now when she was destined to die,
when she had let him down by the words she had said in court, he still cared for her
But now, what had she done? Tell me, what had she done? She had been
insensitive to his feelings, and had been utterly nonchalant the way she had spoken
to him. And she had driven him out of her life. She imagined what he would be
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going through now that all his efforts to make sure she lived again had turned up in
shambles. She had acted to him like she didn’t care anything about him, like he was
pointless to her existence when in fact she would have been dead without him.
Niye shut her eyes as the truth in her heart began to beat. The desire flowed
in her veins. And now she realised that she needed Omo. There was no denying the
fact. Even if she were going to die the next day, she still needed him. She wanted
to see his face, hear his voice, feel his touch. Really, she wanted to tell him how
sorry she was for acting the way she did. She wanted him to know how much she
appreciated all he had done for her. She wanted him to know that his place had
been secured in her heart, since the very day he rescued her from the storm.
But she couldn’t see him because he was gone forever. All she could do was
continue to weep. Bitterly she wept. She rolled on the floor from one end of the cell
to the other and wriggled as she did, for the pain and longing she felt was way
beyond measure. Finally, she clutched her arms around her breasts and became
still. But yet she cried, for the one she loved.
OMO COULDN’T sleep that night. He had made up his mind never to as much as
think of Niye again, and he had succeeded through the rest of the day. But now
when it was night, he found his thoughts straying in Niye’s direction. He could only
wonder why.
He rolled out of bed and turned on the lights so he could see his thoughts
more clearly. Then he returned to the bed and lay down again. He shut his eyes
tightly; not because he wanted to sleep, but because he was thinking of Niye and it
brought him so much pain to know that all his efforts at bringing her back to life
had culminated in nothingness. Niye was going to die, and there was nothing he
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Slowly, he opened his eyes as he thought about two years ago when he had
asked her to be his wife. He began to wonder whether he really meant it then, or
what was it that had made him say it? It was a feeling; he knew that; but what
feeling? It was the same feeling that had made him vow to be responsible for her,
determined to save her. And even as he lay there on his bed, unable to sleep, he
But just take a look at what Niye had put him through that day. So, upon all
he had done for her, he still meant nothing to her. She had simply told him to get
out of her life, and stay out. After slaving all weekend to make sure that he at least
had enough material to propose her survival, she stood in court and agreed to die.
It didn’t make any sense. It didn’t make him angry anymore. It just pained him.
But maybe she was right. Maybe he was really insensitive. Maybe he should
have squeezed out time to be there for her at least once over the weekend. Who
knows what she must have been going through? Maybe if he were in her shoes, he
would have reacted the same way she had to him. Maybe this; maybe that…It was
all probability. But Omo was sorry. He wished he could go to Niye and tell her how
sorry he was. But it was no point. He wanted to forget about her and move on with
his life as she had told him to do. He wanted to be happy, even if he knew his life
was short.
But was there happiness without Niye? Could Omo be happy without her?
How? He had everything he could possibly have, but still he had nothing if he didn’t
have Niye. And it pained him that soon she was going to die. He should die too.
There was no point living. Please Dear Virus, come and take his soul away.
Tears filled his eyes as he remembered the sight of the Niye he had seen
that day: bony, hungry, pale, weak, almost dead-if not already dead. He thought of
her in those days when they were clowns, when a lunatic of great calibre had
stopped by to invite them to his birthday party. Niye had screamed and cleaved to
him for safety that day, fearing that the insane being would hurt her. And he had
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been proud to hold her, to protect her. His blood had run hot and cold at the same
time. And he had smiled, and had felt on top of the world, because he wanted her
to be his wife. And then they had grown together to be fond of each other untill the
time she was raped, and they became real friends-they became serious. They
became mature. He had vowed to be there for her, wherever he was, to be a father
to her.
Now see; just look how it was all going to end. She was going to die, and he
was going to forget about her and move on with his life. But Omo didn’t want to.
Tears began to run down his cheeks because he didn’t want to forget about Niye,
not in a million years. He didn’t want to move on without her. Truly, he didn’t want
to live without her. He wanted her by his side in this journey through life. He wanted
But he could not. Not anymore. He had been insensitive to her, and she had
told him to leave. And worse still she was going to die. He didn’t want her to die. He
couldn’t let her die. If she died, what then would become of him? Their dreams? If
she died, it meant living the rest of his life in darkness, never hoping for the dawn
of a new day.
But wait!
Was it really altogether hopeless? Was there nothing that could be done?
Couldn’t Omo save Niye like he had vowed to do? Indeed there was hope. Omo was
going to rescue Niye. She shouldn’t die, because she didn’t kill Jonathan. Someone
else did with a rope, and all he had to do was find the person, whoever it was. It
was not going to be easy, but he was willing to try. So that even if she died in the
end, he would be rest assured that he did his best to keep his promise, to keep her
alive. Her case was not altogether hopeless. There was something that could be
done.
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He smiled as he remembered the familiar words of his teacher when he was
in kindergarten. “Always do your best, and whatever the outcome, it would be for
the best.” So he was going to do his best, so that Niye would live again.
And she needed him now, more than ever. Or at least he needed her. He
would go and see her again, and tell her how sorry he was for being insensitive.
Then he would reassure her that she would live again because she can if only she
TWENTY-THREE
B arrister Maria ‘Tas had been in a terrible feat of rage since the previous day
when her client had simply made a fool of her in the court of law. Her client
had succeeded beyond any previously conceivable measure to wipe out any sort of
respect the barrister once had, and totally bruise her ego to death. Barrister ‘Tas
had reasons to have been angry. Even as she sat there at her desk in her chamber,
looking at the headlines of the dailies, her anger was constantly thoroughly
refreshed. She had spent years in the U.K studying law, only to come back home
and be humiliated, simply because she was trying to speak for those who had no
voice.
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But that Niye of a girl: what had suddenly come over her the previous day?
The barrister could not figure it out, and did not mind. What pained her was the fact
that Niye had made her waste her precious, invaluable time, for nothing. Just why
didn’t Niye tell her from the start that she was ready to plead guilty? It would have
She had been ready to defend Niye in all ways that she could because the
girl’s story touched her, and also in sympathy for her friend. And then in court, Niye
had betrayed them both. All their hard work and time, wasted. The barrister truly
couldn’t be angrier.
A gentle knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Barrister Tas’ wondered
who it was. She even wondered why she was there in her office that morning. She
didn’t want to see anyone, and that was why she had told her secretary to cancel
all her appointments for that day and not to bother coming to the chamber at all.
She wasn’t in the mood to see anyone. Who knows, it might even be one of those
The door opened and it was Omo that entered. Again he found himself
unable to approach, as the barrister fixed him with an indefinable stare. He didn’t
know what to make of it, but from all indication, he felt it was unsafe to move too
close too soon. So he stood at the door until the Barrister spoke.
He searched hard for the slightest traces of anger in her voice. And finding
none, he nodded and moved forward to sit opposite her. But she was still staring at
him, and it made him uncomfortable. He was suddenly shy and embarrassed like a
little child.
Just looking at him staring innocently at the desk, the barrister’s anger was
gradually transformed into sympathy. She felt sorry for Omo. She knew what he had
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gone through for his friend’s sake and Niye had let him down. So the barrister was
“Thank you,” he told her. “I thought you would be angry with me.”
The barrister heaved, and said nothing. But Omo knew what she was about
to say.
“Yes,” Barrister ‘Tas agreed. “And she succeeded in making me look like a
fool.”
Omo could sense danger in her voice and the earlier he abated it, the better.
“It was really…I think she was just over stressed,” he said for Niye.
“No, I don’t mean it like she had any good reason to do what she did,” Omo
corrected before it was too late. “It’s just that she was really under a lot of pressure
that she felt what she did was for the best.”
The barrister had no choice now but to marvel at Omo. Even after what Niye
The barrister shook her head in admiration. Surely this young man; he was
something other than human. And to think that Niye was just his friend was even
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more amazing. This was how things were supposed to be: where people would be
willing to take up the most difficult challenges and do the most impossible things,
just for the ones they loved. She knew somehow, that Omo was in love with Niye-or
“Just that?”
The barrister shook her head slowly, as if in pity. Or was it sympathy. It was
Omo frowned at the question. Niye had asked the same question the
previous day and he had not bothered to think about it. Was it really that important-
what he wanted from her? Must he want something from her? Did he want anything
The barrister noticed the confusion in his eyes. “What I mean is, what do
The barrister shook her head again, this time more slowly. What a pathetic
lad this was. She was going to inform him of what she felt he should know, but on
second thought she decided not to. It would be a lot better if he found out on his
own.
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Tears began to sprout in his eyes. The barrister’s heart was broken in pieces.
She wished she could do something about Niye’s situation. But she couldn’t. The
She reached out and wiped the tears off Omo’s face.
Omo took in six sudden sharp breaths that all seemed to happen at the
“I wouldn’t let her die anyway,” he said with great determination. “Not when
Barrister Maria withdrew her hand from his face and repositioned herself in
her seat so she could take a better look at him. She could have laughed at what he
had just said, but the look in his eyes, and the level of seriousness with which he
had spoken made her restrain herself. She could only imagine what he was
planning to do.
“What do you intend to do?” she asked him, and leaned forward to listen.
Somehow she just trusted that whatever it was he was going to say would be a plan
worth implementing.
“She didn’t kill Jonathan,” Omo said, “and I’m going to prove that.”
“How?”
“The rope,” he told her. “I’m going to find out who strangled him with a
rope.”
“How?”
That was the crux of the matter. And unfortunately, Omo had no ready
He was looking in the barrister’s eyes now, and she could see he needed her
help. But what could she offer him? It was too late to go back to court and begin to
try to prove that Niye had not killed the lad even when she had emphatically
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pleaded guilty, and her prints were on the knife. No one knew about the rope. So
there was little or nothing she could do, in as much as she wanted to help.
“We can’t go back to court,” she informed him. “It’s too late.”
“The only reason we can go back to court would be if we found the real
killer, and are able to prove beyond every reasonable doubt that that person
Omo shut his eyes tightly. The task ahead was enormous-catch a killer in
five days without any clues. It was impossible. But he could still hear that voice in
his head say: “always do your best, and whatever the outcome, it would be for the
best.”
“I will do my best,” he told her. “I’ll give my all…I should leave now.”
He rose quickly and turned to leave, and the barrister rose with him, and
held his hand. So he turned to face her, and she looked into his eyes and said,
OMO LEFT Barrister ‘Tas’ chamber feeling completely reassured that he, that is
they, would be able to find Jonathan’s killer in the next five days, and save Niye
from untimely death. He had to be a detective now (that was what the barrister had
told him) and he had to be alert and act with exceeding alacrity. She had given him
a starting point, and he was going to begin his new life as a detective.
But now, he was headed for the Oko Prison to see Niye and make amends…
if possible. And as he went, he made up his mind that whether or not she forgave
him and accepted him back, he was still going to do his best for her.
Soon he was in the visitation room in the prison and was waiting for her to
appear. He looked around and observed that there was no one else here to see
someone else. He wondered why this was so. Everytime he had come to see Niye, it
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had always been the two of them alone. Why? Maybe it was because these people
His body shook with nervousness and his heart pounded with fear of
uncertainty. First, hope Niye was still alive. Second, hope she was still mobile. Third,
hope she would be willing to see him. And finally, would she agree to forgive him?
Impulsively Omo rose up from the desk as the door opened and Niye was
being led in. The door closed and the officer was gone. This time he simply left
them alone. It was Omo and Niye alone in the room, and they were motionless,
staring at each other. Memories flooded their brains, desires possessed them.
Then suddenly as tears filled her eyes, Niye could hold herself no longer and
ran towards him, into his arms that were stretched out to receive her. He clasped
her to him, and tears filled his eyes as she wept profusely on his chest. And soon
And they wept and held on to each other, neither willing to let go, like
survivors in an earthquake. Surely they were not hoping to see each other again. So
Niye forced herself to withdraw from his grip, and began to shake her head
violently.
“No, Omo,” she protested. “I’m sorry. I was really ungrateful. I didn’t-”
“It’s okay,” Omo halted her. “It’s in the past…Wipe your tears, my dear.”
He reached out and wiped the tears off her face. But she was not done with
crying yet, not until she was done with her apology.
“Omo, please forgive me,” Niye continued. “I was really wrong. Please find a
But she wasn’t done yet, so she knelt down, and continued to beg him.
“I don’t know how to make up for it,” she told him. “I’m really sorry.”
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Her weeping now became profuse again as she buried her head between his
thighs. Omo was hurt, seeing her hurt; so he too began to cry…all over again.
Niye looked up at him and searched his eyes if truly she was already
forgiven. It seemed so. He rested his palms on the edges of her shoulders and lifted
her to her feet. Then he hugged her, and once again, they were locked. Niye wasn’t
crying anymore. Her eyes were shut as her head rested on his chest. She felt at
peace as he held her and comforted her. She felt alive. She wished he could hold
“I missed you,” she whispered. “I need you. Please don’t leave me.”
“I’ll get you out of this, Niye,” he said. “You won’t die.”
“Omo please,” she said. “You’ve done enough for me. I don’t want to put you
Niye silently began to cry again. It pained her for Omo: the sufferings and
the sacrifices all for her sake. And it pained her more because there was nothing
she had done to deserve so much of his attention, neither was there anything she
could do to repay him. At least none would be adequate. She cried for him.
Finally he let go, and again wiped the tears off her face again. Then she
looked into his eyes, and said to him, “I love you, Omo.”
Omo felt his blood congeal. He had least expected her to say what it was
that she had just said. And he didn’t know how to react. It struck him like a strange
illness.
“Did you hear me? I said I love you,” Niye emphasized, her eyes searching
all over his face, eager to hear his response; her heart one step away from panic.
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Omo looked to the ground, and then he looked up, and then he looked to her
face.
“Let’s just get you out of here first,” he said. “Then we’ll sort out our
feelings.”
Niye frowned lightly and bit at her lower lip; and after a while she nodded.
Then she moved to embrace him again. It had become her latest talent now-to hug
him-because it was all she wanted-his arms around her, pressing her close to him.
Niye was hesitant to answer. At the moment she didn’t know what she
“Tell me you want to live,” Omo urged her. “Just make the decision.”
Niye hesitated again before she finally made the decision, made her choice.
It was the deepest yearning of her heart now, and earnestly she wished it could
come true.
Omo closed his eyes as he still held her close. She was forced to believe
him, to trust him without question. But as they stood there, locked in that
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TWENTY-FOUR
T hat night, after Osato and the other children had gone to bed, Omo decided to
talk with Rachael about his plans on finding Jonathan’s killer as he had none
yet. Who knows, Rachael might have a suggestion to give him. She better did,
otherwise he was almost lost. He moved over to the sitting room where she was
She almost did not notice his presence as she was deeply engrossed in the
comedy show she was watching. Then she cast him a sideways glance and was
worried by what she saw. She shook her head and turned down the volume of the
“What is it?” she asked. “Are you still worried about Niye?”
“Yes,” Omo replied, “and I was wondering how you managed to be so happy
“Don’t be silly, Omo,” Rachael scolded. “How can you say I’m happy?”
Rachael sighed. “Omo please don’t make me feel bad this night,” she
Omo was silent and looking at her. Was it already a tragedy? Was it
hopeless?
“You cannot go on brooding over what you cannot change,” Rachael advised
“I don’t want to,” he informed her. Then he sat upright. “Do you know
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Rachael was puzzled. After all Niye had already testified to killing Jonathan in
“She stabbed him quite alright,” Omo clarified, “but someone else strangled
confirmed it.”
“I know, I know,” Omo said impatiently, “but she didn’t…and I’m going to
prove it.”
Rachael shifted her head slightly backward to have a better look at who was
talking.
Then she shrugged, almost amused. “Then what are you going to do?”
“Rachael, please stop acting like Niye means nothing to you,” he said. “Why
He was looking at her expectantly, but honestly, she too was at a loss. What
“No,” he answered.
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Omo let go of her hand. That was what Barrister ‘Tas had told him too. It was
the right thing to do, but he didn’t know how. And Rachael knew it.
to his friends, those in his hostel; someone might have heard a sound or
Omo shut his eyes. What Rachael had said was also what the barrister had
told him. It was the right thing to do, but in five days, it seemed a hopeless and
lame idea. He had actually hoped Rachael would come up with some kind of
shortcut. But as it appears, he’d have to go the long way, even if he had a short
time.
He opened his eyes and shrugged. It was all about doing his best, wasn’t it?
possible, you should take some food to Niye. That would be after taking Osato to
school.”
“What about you?” Rachael asked. “Are you not going to school?”
“Omo, I don’t like the way you are going about this whole thing,” Rachael
told him sternly. “That you have to fight for Niye doesn’t mean you’ll have to
Omo knew she was right. Perhaps he was really taking things too far.
Besides, his promotion exams were coming up shortly. He had to begin to study.
He turned again, and began to make for his room when Rachael said,
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“What do you mean, ‘so?’” she queried. “What are you going to do about
Osato?”
“I don’t know.”
THE NEXT day, after school hours, Omo began his quest for Jonathan’s killer. It had
taken him a while to actually decide on what to do in the first place, and whom and
whom to talk to. Finally he had decided he was going to go to Zenith Hostel and talk
He had a small tape recorder in his pocket and a pen and jotter as well. He
tried as much as possible to keep his mind blank. He didn’t want to think about
failure, not even about success. He just wanted to do his best, only his best. So he
reached the hostel and knocked on the door of the first room. There was no
response the first time, and even the second. But he could hear some sort of
muffled sound in the room and he knew there were people in there. So he knocked
the question.
Omo was absolutely speechless, not knowing who to say he was. Was he
asked the question the second time, he decided he was Omo and said so.
“Go to hell!” the voice ordered harshly, and Omo wondered why whoever it
Anyhow, there were more people in the hostel and he was sure they would
be willing to listen to him for Niye’s sake. So to hell with that brute, whoever he
thought he was. Omo went to the next door and knocked; there was no reply, even
after he had knocked four times. He knocked on the one after that, and the one
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after the one after that, and it was either there was no response whatsoever or the
disaster if he could gather no information from Zenith Hostel. He had hoped that he
could work on any information gathered here, and now it seemed nothing was forth
coming. Room ten was the last room and his only hope. Please whoever it was that
was resident here, you’ll have to give him something to work on.
Gingerly, he knocked on the door. There was no response the first time, but
when he knocked again, some sweet voice asked him to come in without even
asking who he was. And that was unusual from his point of view. He looked up and
It was a nice room, this place, and a nice, sad face he saw. The girl sat up
slowly on her bed as she tinted her eyes to look at Omo carefully, perhaps trying to
ascertain if she knew him or not, and where. Omo stood at the door and
deliberately avoided looking at her. He found himself a little embarrassed the way
Satisfied that the person in front of her was an alien and had no business
Omo turned to face her as it was time he spoke. She was a fair damsel with
angel-like looks. Her hair was brown and long, and the parts of her leg which Omo
“I’m sure you can,” Omo answered nervously, belatedly. “My name is
and adjusted the tie on his neck that had suddenly begun to strangle him. He could
imagine how it had been for Jonathan: the rope around his neck. Then he produced
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The young girl was watching him, wondering if he was for real. Or was he
“Investigator,” she said slowly, her eyes harassing his entire being, and he
began to fidget.
“Not an investigator really,” he began his clarification. “It’s just…I mean, I’m
The girl didn’t know anything, so she was just staring at him. Omo knew he
had made no point; he decided to start all over again. He exhaled slowly and
began.
“I’m…that is, my friend; she was charged for murder and I know she didn’t
He was finished and was looking at the girl, hoping he’d made more sense
this time. But it didn’t seem so, from the look on the girl’s face.
“Thoughtful of you,” she said dryly. “So you’ve still not answered my
question: how can I help you? If you don’t have anything to say, please leave. I
“Oh yes,” Omo said hastily. “The young man, by name Eriso Onaghinor, was
Omo was startled by her reaction. If anything, he was willing to stay now to
know why she had reacted the way she had. Suddenly, tears were forming in her
eyes, and Omo had a feeling he had struck gold. He had come to the right place.
“Leave,” the girl said again. “And don’t come around here anymore.”
“But why?” Omo persisted. “Why don’t you want to talk to me?”
The girl rose to her feet. She obviously had had it. Her face was radiating
genuine anger, and in her eyes Omo saw bitterness and pain. He wondered why.
“I’ll call the police if you don’t leave,” she threatened. “So get out!”
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Omo stood where he was, as if planted to the ground. The girl was surprised.
Omo stood there some more, looking at her, before he decided he should go.
But first, he wanted to know why the girl had started crying as soon as he had
“Do you have some sort of personal connection with the deceased?” he
asked.
The girl shook her head, and expressed to him without mincing words how
happy she would be to see him leave. In fact she had already opened the door,
“Alright, I’ll leave,” Omo assured her, “but I’d like to know your name.”
Omo dipped his hand in his pocket and produced his pen and jotter. Then he
scribbled something down, tore a page out of the jotter, and handed it to the girl.
“Yes, I know,” the girl said taking the piece of paper. “I’ll keep in touch.”
There was not much to do or say any more, so Omo nodded curtly and went
out of room ten. Once outside Zenith Hostel, he felt lost. Time wasted, nothing
gathered. He could not stop himself from thinking of failure now, as it seemed
imminent. And as he thought about it, and about losing Niye, he began to cry. Like
a child he cried, convulsing and shuddering, until the cloud gradually drew dark and
he knew it was time he left. The rain would soon begin to fall. He better left now.
Then an idea struck him. Those detectives that had arrested and
interrogated Niye; shouldn’t he talk to them too? They knew about the cable-they
certainly did. So he would talk to them. But the only problem then was: will they be
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willing to help Niye? Will they admit that there was a cable involved, and that the
wounds Jonathan had received were not the major cause of his death? Will they?
It didn’t seem likely, so Omo sighed dejectedly. All the same, he was going
to try. It was all about his best. Hurriedly he stepped out of the hostel premises and
TWENTY-FIVE
remember their names, so how was he going to ask after them? He shook his head.
He pitied himself, and at the same time he was disappointed, frustrated, and
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somewhat angry. He was confused too and slightly puzzled. He was a little dazed as
until the detectives came out or went in. It was a silly thing to do, but to him, he
had no choice. Surely he would recognise the detectives if he saw them, so it was
not such a bad idea to wait outside the premises for them. But what if the
detectives weren’t on duty today? With a wave of the hand, Omo dismissed the ill
continued to wait. The clouds grew darker and darker, and when the rain began to
drizzle, he struck gold. The tall detective drove out of the premises. Impulsively
Omo began to scream and shout, and signal and wave; all to get the detective’s
attention. He succeeded; for slowly, the detective pulled over to the side of the
road. He wasn’t eager to speak with Omo, but was simply curious. When someone
was yelling and waving at you, instinctively you would not ignore them. You would
want to know who they were or why they were so eager for you to notice them.
Omo ran to meet up with him. The side glasses of his car were wound up;
Omo rapped gently at the one on the passenger’s side. The detective rolled it
down, and looked at Omo carefully. There was something familiar about the face, so
he did not hesitate to open the door and let Omo in. Omo seemed ecstatic.
The detective nodded and waited for him to continue, as, although the face
was familiar, his mind was yet to picture where he had met Omo, and how. Omo’s
excited nature gradually faded away as he realised the detective actually knew him
not.
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“No,” the detective replied.
“I am the friend of the girl who was arrested for the murder of Chief
Onaghinor’s son.”
At that point Detective Udoh remembered who Omo was and became stiff.
He felt some hard object forcing its way down his throat.
“You were the one with her the day she was arrested,” he said.
Omo nodded in confirmation, and that sent chills up the detective’s spine.
He swallowed hard again and looked at his rear-view mirror at the surroundings
where his car was parked. He noticed a car was now parked right behind him, and
the driver was out. He looked in front of him and noticed the steepness of the edge
of the road. He realised that there was no way for a quick escape should
“What do you want?” Detective Udoh asked Omo in a voice that was firm
Omo had noticed the whole tension that had mounted in the detective’s
being. It seemed to be that the detective was afraid of him. It seemed to be that he
thought that Omo was in his car for some sort of retaliation, to harm him. Quickly,
Omo decided to play hard, and fast. His brain was working at ultra high frequency,
sorting out what and what to ask, and in which and which order to ask them. He
tightened his face, plastered a matter-of-factly expression on it, and turned to face
the detective. Then he smiled darkly, and was pleased at the effect that had on the
“You could live or die right now, Detective,” he told him dryly. “It all depends
on you.”
Omo dipped his hand in his pocket and brought out the tape recorder. He
inserted a tape and realised with a sense of shock that the batteries that were
supposed to make the tape work had somehow disappeared. Or hadn’t he put some
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batteries in it? He couldn’t remember. He cursed himself aloud, and then he
brought out his pen and jotter as it was obvious the tape was useless now. Then he
“Alright Detective, let me show you how to do your job,” he said with a
smile. “Now I’m going to ask you some questions and the answers you give me will
The detective swallowed hard again. It had simply become a habit for him
these days.
There was silence. Omo was watching the detective’s face for every nuance
of expression. Finally the detective turned to look him in the face and said, “I don’t
know.”
He didn’t know? Who produced the knife and hid the rope? Who started the
Omo regarded the detective with a simle in his eyes, but was unwilling to
“Next question: do you know that Niye did not kill Jonathan?”
smiled.
“I don’t need her own testimony,” Omo said sternly, as if about to lose his
temper. But he was calm on the interior. He had noticed long ago that Detective
Udoh was afraid of him. And he was playing on that weakness, and doing so very
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But still the detective did not answer. Omo himself knew it was irrelevant
whether or not the detective agreed that Niye was irresponsible for the death of
Jonathan, so he did not bother to push for an answer any further. Instead what he
would do was to instil more fear in the detective as he went into the things that
matter.
tempted.”
“Now I’ll ask you another question,” Omo told him, “and if you lie to me or
By now, it had started to rain and the detective knew that he was trapped in
his car with Omo. He thought about just opening the door beside him and running
into Police Headquarters, but to his utter surprise, he heard Omo say, “Please
Without a word, the detective did as Omo had said. This whole experience
was now a sort of a fun thing for Omo, and he temporarily forgot why he was in the
“Jonathan was killed at night and Niye was arrested in the morning.” He
paused, and when the detective nodded slightly in agreement, he continued. “How
“Now,” he began, “let’s assume you arrived at the scene of the incident that
night, and as you claim, you found Niye’s prints on the knife. The way things work
in this country, it is supposed to take a couple of days for finger print evaluation, or
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The detective shifted in his seat. He knew there was no point lying. Actually
he felt a sort of respect and liking for Omo. Here was a young man, much younger
than him, doing what he had refused to do. Well, not that he had refused to do it,
but when he had proposed to finding Eriso Onaghinor’s real killer, the IPO had been
against the idea claiming that there was no time to spare. And now this young man
“Look, I really admire your courage,” he began, “and I want to help. So why
Omo lifted his eyebrows in suspicion and surprise. He couldn’t figure out
why the man who had conspired to put Niye to death would now be so willing to
“You can trust me now,” the detective said, somewhat pleadingly. “Let’s
work together.”
He stretched forth his shaky hand, and Omo hesitated before he shook it.
“There was a tip-off,” he said. “Some girl in the hostel claimed she saw your
Niye come out of Eriso’s room. So it was faster going through the finger prints
database once we knew who we were looking for, and whose son was murdered.”
“I can’t remember her name,” the detective said, “but she was fair, and
really beautiful.”
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“What else did she say, Detective?” Omo asked.
“She said she felt that with the way your Niye rushed out of the room,
Omo waited to hear more, but there was nothing forth coming.
“Was that all,” he asked. “Didn’t she go in to check what had happened?”
“We didn’t bother to ask,” the detective said. “I mean, it was not her
business, right?”
Omo nodded and took his time to think of any other questions he would like
“I don’t fit,” he said plainly. “With what you’ve put me through, I think I
They shook hands and Omo stepped out of the detective’s car after the
detective had given him his own home address and urged him to come over if he
had any more questions, or for any reason at all. Then the detective drove away.
The rain was still pouring, so Omo stepped into a nearby shed that was already
was completely oblivious to everything that was happening around him. His mind
was planted at the scene of Jonathan’s death. And he was trying to figure out the
place of that girl, Nonso, in the set. Her reaction when he had been to Zenith Hostel
plus the things the detective had told him showed that she had a role to play in this
movie that was making in his mind. She was an essential part of this whole puzzle
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and it seemed to him that in fact, she held the key to the door that would lead to
He was going to see her again and cajole her into talking if he had to. He
would get from her, everything she knew, and hopefully, that would be enough to
work on to find Niye’s killer. So he let his mind drift from Thoughtland to the place
where he was at present, the place where the rain was falling. He was going back to
Zenith Hostel now, for the second encounter with the damsel. He knew he had no
time.
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TWENTY-SIX
I n the next thirty minutes, and that was at about six o’clock, Omo was back at
Zenith Hostel. He made his way straight to room ten and knocked. There was no
response. He was a little wet, but he was neither cold nor shivering. He was excited
and hopeful, because there was hope…just a little. But there was hope.
He knocked again, but he noticed that he could not even hear the sound of
the knock, for the sound of rain pellets drumming at the roof of the hostel had
swallowed the smaller sound of his knock, had swallowed the sound of everything.
He knocked harder, and harder, till he was banging at the door. And yet there was
no response. No one was in. He was disappointed and felt like crying, but for
goodness’ sakes, he held back his tears. There was still tomorrow, he could always
He dipped his hand in his pockets, hung his head downward, and made his
way out of Zenith Hostel. But the rain now had developed into something else. As
he stepped into it, the pellets hit him with so much force that it hurt, like golf ball
hurled at one at close range. He stepped back out of it. But he couldn’t stay there
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forever, so after some time, when it was almost seven, he entered the rain and ran
He saw his father’s Peugeot 504 car parked at the car shed as he entered
the premises, and his heart flew into his head. Goodness, his parents were back.
They had been up north to attend the funeral ceremony of a loved one, and now
they were back. There was trouble coming. He had ignored the question Rachael
had raised about Osato the previous night, but tonight he was going to answer it.
He knocked on the door, wet and cold, and Rachael answered it. The look on
her face told him that she had had her own share of troubles, and his would be
“It’s been hell since they came home,” she whispered. “I told them
“A diary,” she replied. “Some fair girl brought it and said I must give it to you
Omo frowned, and was still hesitant to take it. “What girl?”
At that moment, Omo’s eyes opened wide, and he snatched the diary out of
Rachael’s hand, like she had been keeping it away from him.
“That it was all she could do,” Rachael replied, obviously trying to fathom
His mother was seated on a sofa in the sitting room when he entered, her
arms folded across her breasts, and her mood pensive. She regarded him with
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panicked eyes. Then she rose quickly to touch him all over, turn him around, and
He was embarrassed the way his mother was all over him. Perhaps he felt
he was too old for such nonsense. But if you had a son that had suddenly gone
crazy over a girl and was willing to risk even his life for her, especially when he was
not altogether healthy, you would act the same way as Omo’s mother.
Mummy released him and looked him over with one eye being affectionate,
“What has come over you?” she asked. “Rachael told me how crazy you-”
“Is that Omo?” It was his father’s deep baritone voice Omo had heard, and
His father emerged from behind the curtains into the sitting room. He was
hesitant to approach his son, to check on him like his wife had done. His son had
“I want to know one thing,” his father told him as his hands folded across his
Omo was stung by his father’s question. But truly, the ageing man needed
to know.
“Oh, I simply want to know if you’re still normal,” his father said.
“So what has come over you, that all your life now has been centred on
some girl?” The tone in which his father spoke suggested that he was angry, but
still managing to control it; perhaps hoping that Omo had a reasonable explanation
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“Daddy, I’m just concerned about a friend’s welfare, that’s all,” Omo
answered.
“Isn’t it the same Niye that used to come here?” his father asked, seeming
puzzled. “I thought she was Rachael’s friend. But look at Rachael; why isn’t she
“And because of this friend, you have literally abandoned your studies.”
With every reply Omo made, the anger mounting in his father grew larger by
ten.
“So I pay your fees, and you don’t go to school, telling me you’ll catch up?”
“Go out and take a look around,” his father continued. “Many children would
do anything to get the opportunity you have, and now you’re wasting it. Or is it
That one hit the whole family. It seemed to hit Omo’s mother the most
“Look at you,” the man still spoke. “Eighteen years old, chasing after a girl.
Oh, or you want to spread your virus round before you die.”
Omo shut his eyes now, and tears formed beneath the lid. His anger was
mounting now, grain by grain. Slowly, slowly. Then he opened his eyes again, still
willing to make his father understand why he was doing what he was doing, the
“She means a lot to me,” he explained. “I don’t want her to die. I want to-”
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“You’re such a fool,” his father cut him short with so much disgust and
irritation in his voice. “And you had the guts to bring her younger sister to my
house!”
His mother now feared to say anything or do anything. She knew her
husband. He was like Rachael. Once their temper rose, it took only a miracle to sit it
down.
Rachael shrugged. The look in her eyes wasn’t in any way pleasant. Omo
began to panic, wondering what it was that his parents had done to the little girl.
“Where is she?” he asked, looking to his mother. But there came no reply.
“She’s where she should be,” the ageing man said nonchalantly. “She’s
Omo’s anger reached for the skies. His blood ran hot, and his face became
tense. His eyes bulged out and his shoulders were squared. Even his fists were
clenched, and from his brain there flowed a certain form of electricity to his
shoulders, his hands, and even to the nails on his toes. His whole body began to
itch. Right now, some devilish form of rage had encircled him, and his mother saw
it. Her jaws dropped as she looked at him, assured that truly, this thing was not her
son. For never in the eighteen years she had known him, had she seen him this
way.
And now his father began to wonder if this was Omo, or had Omo had a twin
his father didn’t know about? How could his own son hate him?
“May thunder fire your mouth,” the ageing man said, his own body vibrating
in anger.
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“I hate you,” Omo said again, “all of you.”
This time, his father walked up to him in quick strides, and slapped him
across the face. It was a hard slap, the hardest that Omo had ever received in his
entire life, a slap that sent his face bent sideways. Then there was silence.
Everyone was watching Omo, expecting a reaction and wondering what that
reaction would be. Even his younger siblings had drifted slowly from their bedroom
to the sitting room to behold this classic confrontation between their father and
Omo kept them in suspense for a long time, and in the end, he did not react.
He stared some more at his father, and tears formed in his eyes before he
spoke.
His mother was confused or heartbroken, so she fell to the floor and began
to cry. The younger children began to cry too; not because they were hurt or
anything, but simply as a form of solidarity and loyalty to their mother. In fact soon
they began to wail, some of them sounding like lost wolves trying to find their
packs. Rachael busied herself with consoling them, but Omo and his father still
“You think you can survive on your own, Son?” his father asked, some sense
“I am willing to try.”
Omo turned sharply and walked out through the door, into the rain, to
nowhere in particular. His siblings called after him, his mother pursued him, but he
was not willing to come back. His father didn’t want him anymore. And worse still
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his father didn’t want Osato or Niye. So he had to leave their lives for them and
begin to lead his own, no matter how short it may be. It was his life.
He ran in the rain, so his mother wouldn’t catch up with him. Easily he
outran her. Then after a while, he rested himself in a shed he found, as the rain
continued to pour. There was only one place he could go now, and that was Niye’s
uncle’s apartment. He looked himself over. He was already wet, and cold, and
shivering. It was no point staying in the shed, so he managed through the rain until
No one saw him, as the rain had driven everyone indoors, and he liked that.
He reached the front door, and turned the handle. It was unlocked as he had
expected, so he went it. But it still surprised him that up till the very moment,
Omo entered the apartment, and bolted the door from the inside. The place
was dark, so he groped along the wall for the light switch and found it, and
He freed himself from his wet and sticky clothes and spread them on the
floor, directly under the fan. He knew nothing had changed in this place since the
last time he was here, so he moved to Niye’s bedroom. He had been there before, a
long time ago, and now, it seemed worse than the last time. He felt a desire to cry
as he observed the room. He could feel what it was like when Niye had been there.
He could visualise her walking around, sitting, sleeping, reading, and he could
imagine her happy, laughing, she and Rachael gossiping. But now she was in one
remote cell, all alone, and most probably crying. His heart ached for his dear friend.
But he was tired now, and hungry. He was cold too and shivering, and naked.
His vision became blurred and his legs were shaky. Slowly his eyes shut and
reopened, shut and reopened, and finally shut. Then he fell down to the bed and
became still. It would be hard to tell if it was sleep or death or unconsciousness that
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TWENTY-SEVEN
I t was about two hours later when Omo woke up. He made to rise but realised he
had become lazy. His bones were weak and his head seemed twice its size. It
was simply overweight. Besides, a terrible headache had developed in it, a silent
wild throbbing, and Omo now was in pains. He wished he could go back to sleep but
he couldn’t because he was already awake. Then he suddenly felt a sharp pang in
his stomach that reminded him he was hungry and exhausted. And he felt that his
He shut his eyes, and even so, tears forced their way out. He was going
through much pain, more than he had ever gone through in all his life, all for Niye’s
sake. And no one was willing to understand him, to know that he did this because
her place was already secured in his heart, since the very day he had asked her to
be his wife. He swallowed hard, wondering if that dreaded day had finally arrived-
the day he would begin his slow journey to the place where the dead lay.
Then he remembered the diary, and his eyes flew open impulsively. Wearily
he sat up and looked around the room, but the diary was not there. He rose to his
feet, and searched the room, but still he did not find the diary. He began to panic.
He hoped he hadn’t accidentally dropped it in the rain on his way here. Quickly, he
moved into the sitting room, to where his clothes were, and he found the diary
the diary. Sitting on the sofa, he opened the book, and peered into it. On the first
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page was Jonathan’s name, which meant that the diary belonged to Jonathan. He
closed it, breathed in deeply; then he opened it again, and turned to the next page.
Jonathan’s thoughts for everyday since half a year ago. He noticed as he read that
there was hardly a day when Jonathan did not think of Niye. Sometimes, he thought
about Niye the whole day; and he always thought about her in the same way-he
That’s why he forced her, Omo thought and shook his head.
Then he reached the page that started recording events from three months
ago, when Jonathan had raped Niye. He read Jonathan’s thoughts aloud as he
“Today, I and Niye slept together. Okay, well…we did not quite sleep
together. I forced her. But I swear I didn’t mean to. I just saw her and…I just felt
that feeling I always feel for her, and we were alone. I just couldn’t help myself. I
hope she’ll forgive me, I swear it would never happen again. I didn’t mean to. God,
please understand.”
And he had forced her again. Omo sighed. Jonathan had lusted after Niye so
He closed the diary again and began to try to answer the question he had
asked. Honestly, he couldn’t figure out why one would lust so much after someone
else that it totally blurred their sense of reason. Admitted, he too felt some sort of
lust for Niye when they were together and sometimes apart, but that would never
make him rape her. He couldn’t bring himself to rape someone in his life. What then
had been wrong with Jonathan? Had he been possessed by some sex spirit or what?
Shrugging, he opened the diary again and continued from where he had
stopped. It now seemed more like a fun book than the evidence it was supposed to
be. In fact, Omo forgot totally that it was supposed to be some sort of clue. But it
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was nice to be going through someone’s life in their absence, reading their
thoughts, knowing them; wasn’t it? So he let himself enjoy the book.
and the second time he forced her, and some minor fears of some certain people
with strange and sometimes funny names. It was when he reached about the
middle of the diary, and read what was written on that page, that the book simply
was transformed from a fun book to a puzzler. It was all about fears. Omo had read
about some of Jonathan’s fears in previous pages of the diary, but this one was
more than all the others. It was major. It was a threat to life.
He closed it, and began to reason what he had read. It was unclear to him,
so he read it again. And the line which seemed to be most intriguing was: They are
after me. They are after me. And they have sent my dearest friend after me.
Omo turned to the next page but it was blank. And so were the ones after
that. Then he began to reason. He wished Rachael was here, he wished someone
could help him figure out this whole puzzle. He sighed and shook his head. There
was no one.
But come to think of it, did he really need anyone to help him think? Had
anyone been there when he confronted the detective earlier in the day, when he
made the detective shiver and lose balance? He had been prompted to use all the
resources he had upstairs to figure out what and what questions to ask the
detective and how and how to ask them. And in the end, the detective had praised
So why did he need someone now? Why couldn’t he figure this out himself?
more he thought, the more his head ached. But he wasn’t going to stop thinking as
this was a clue. He knew now it was some sort of clue, but just how does it help was
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Then suddenly an idea struck him, and it made him shiver lightly. He
reached for the diary and opened it again, to the last page on which there was
writing; the day Jonathan had said he would die. He checked the date written at the
top of the page. His mouth fell open, for it was the same day that he had rescued
supposed to be killed by a friend that night, and yes, he was killed by that friend
after Niye had left. No wonder he had denied Niye before her uncle; because he
knew there was no point agreeing to marry Niye when soon he would die. No
wonder he had said that his life was complicated and that he didn’t want her to be
entangled in it. No wonder he had been so reluctant to open the door for her that
Everything simply began to fall into place. But this wasn’t enough to save
Niye. It wasn’t. Omo needed to know who that dearest friend was, and then
possibly get a confession. In fact, he had to get a confession. It was his only chance
And there was only one person who was going to help him, and that was the
girl, Nonso. He got up and strolled to the window and noticed that the rain was now
coming down in showers. He should go and see Nonso then. There was no point
waiting for the next day as that might be too late. Every second counts.
Forgetting that he was hungry and exhausted and ill, Omo quickly put on his
clothes which were now almost dry, and went out of the apartment, headed for
Zenith Hostel. He was walking at first, but soon he found himself running. Curiosity
and anxiety had added fuel to his legs. So he ran, without stopping, until he
He strolled down the corridor, reached room ten, and knocked. Of course the
first time, there was no response. He had anticipated it so he knocked again, and
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“Who is it?” a familiar voice asked, almost in whispers.
Omo wondered if he should have mentioned his name. Now she might not
let him in because earlier in the day she had ordered him to leave and warned him
never to come back. But again, she had brought that diary to him even when he
never knew such existed, and it showed that she was willing to help.
After awhile’s hesitation, Omo heard the bolts on the door being released
and the key turn in its hole. Then slowly the door opened. Nonso immediately stuck
her head out and surveyed the entire corridor. There was no one else. Then she
She hesitated awhile, as if trying to decide whether to slam the door in his
face or to let him in. Finally she decided the latter was a more preferable option, so
she shifted out of the way and he entered. Nonso locked the door securely, turned
on the lights and then she went to her bed and sat. Omo found a little sofa nearby
Omo cleared his throat, and knew he had to be bold and mature with her
this time. At least if he was going to ensure she helped, then he was first going to
The fair girl was looking to the ground like one who was shy or embarrassed
by his presence. Omo knew she was not. He was looking at her, studying her. After
“What do you want now?” she asked. “Mr. Detective, what do you want?”
Omo noticed some sort of anger in her voice. But he was sure he knew what
to do about it.
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“I’m not a detective,” he corrected. “I’m just a friend trying to help a friend.”
Omo began to wonder if actually it wasn’t this Nonso that had given Rachael
the diary. If it was, then why was she being so caustic? He thought about all the
female friends he had. None went by the name, Nonso, and none was as fair as she
was. And besides, none knew about Jonathan. So it had to be her. But she was
“Why are you acting like you don’t want me here?” he asked almost angrily.
“Why are you acting like I-I’m some kind of…ex-boyfriend or something? You are
not even-”
“Enough,” she halted him before it was too late. “Enough, okay? Don’t
scream at me.”
“I wasn’t screaming,” Omo said. “I was just not happy the way you’re
acting.”
Then there was silence. Omo was baffled at the strange kind of rapport
between them. It was like they had known each other for a long time. But he liked
She was looking at the ground again. “No problem. It’s the least I could do.”
She lifted up her face, and there was a worried frown on it.
“You shouldn’t have come,” she told him. “It’s not safe.”
“What do you mean?” he asked trying to keep his voice on a plain level.
“You just have to go,” she said, and she seemed firm.
But Omo was much firmer when he said, “You don’t want me to go.”
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She looked up to him, and he looked straight in her eyes, her soul. “You
“That’s not true,” she protested weakly. She might as well have been
“How?”
She looked to the ground again, and refused to answer. Then on the ground,
Omo observed a little pool of water forming, a pool of water from Nonso’s eyes. She
was crying. He rose and walked to the bed, and sat by her. And when he took her in
his arms, she didn’t resist. She just cried. As she did, Omo was reminded of Niye, so
But she didn’t stop. She only wept the more. Omo became exasperated but
he didn’t show it. He couldn’t because he needed her to help him. So he kept on
But she didn’t answer. She only continued to tell him “he” killed her
boyfriend. Jonathan was suddenly filled with a sense of excitement. He knew for
some reason that Nonso knew who it was that had killed Jonathan, and he was
willing to wait for her to cry her eyes dry, and then talk to him. So he waited until
she was done with crying, and took herself out of his arms.
“It’s past now,” he told her gently. “Jonathan is dead and no amount of tears
“I know,” Nonso said grimly. “It’s just that I love him so much.”
Omo shut his eyes as she said those words. He thought of how much Niye
meant to him and wondered how he was going to survive if he lost her.
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Omo’s eyes flew wide open. “So who did?”
Nonso opened her mouth as if to tell him, then she shut it back. She could
not. For some reason, she could not. But Omo had already known that she knew,
and was willing to go slowly. So he took her hand and began to caress it.
“Jonathan was your boyfriend,” he said, and she nodded. “And you know
Niye is innocent of his death.” She nodded again. “Tell me, why did you send me
the diary?”
“Because of Jonathan,” she answered. “I know he was not killed by the girl.
He was killed by his own friend, but no one knew that except me, and now I decided
to let you know so that the real murderer should die, and not your friend.”
“Why didn’t you tell the police when they interrogated you?”
She grimaced, and shook her head. “You would not understand.”
She turned sideways and looked deep into his eyes. Then she turned away
again.
She was silent, trying to make up her mind if this man was worthy to be
trusted. Finally she decided he was. Then she breathed in deeply and proceeded to
“Jonathan and I have come a long way,” she began. “I had always been his
friend before was began dating-his real friend. Then when I got into the university,
we started dating. I loved him since then, and I knew he loved me too, at least at
the beginning.” She turned to look at Omo, and observed the expression on his
face, and then she continued. “After a while anyway, I noticed he had started
cheating on me. He didn’t deny it. He simply told me to find some other guy if I
wasn’t okay with his lifestyle. I should have left him, but I didn’t because I loved
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“What happened on that night?” Omo urged her on.
“I had gone to classes to read,” she continued, “and when I came back, as I
was about to open my door, I saw your friend run out of Jonathan’s room. The way
she did suggested to me that something was wrong. Naturally, I wanted to find out.
So I went down the corridor to his room door and knocked. I could hear him
Tears had begun to form in her eyes and for a moment Omo feared she
“I was shocked when I saw him in the pool of his own blood and I screamed
and-”
“Please continue.”
“I ran to him, and the first thing he told me was that they were after him. He
told me to look in a drawer he pointed at and bring him his revolver. I was shocked
Jonathan possessed a gun, but I had no time to confront him on it. I just obeyed and
went to the drawer. There was a gun in it and also the diary. I brought out the gun
and gave it to him. Then I asked him what he needed it for and he-”
“I should have,” she said, “but I was confused, I didn’t know what to do.”
Tears were now beginning to slowly roll down her cheeks, but she was still
“I asked him what he needed a gun for and he told me they were after him. I
asked him who, and he referred me to the diary as it was becoming difficult to
speak. It seemed he was soon going to faint. It was then as he struggled to keep his
eyes open, that it dawned on me that I should get help. As I turned to leave, the
door opened, and a man in a black mask entered. I wanted to scream but he
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quickly reached where I was and covered my mouth. Jonathan lifted his revolver
“I still struggled to get free. He hit me on the head over and over again until
I fell to the ground and could not move. Then he moved to where Jonathan was,
released his gun from its holster and was about to shoot, when he suddenly
changed his mind and lowered the gun. He looked to his side and saw some cables
around the TV, and that was what he…I just couldn’t stand it, so I passed out.”
She had finished, and by now, she was crying profusely. Omo knew what he
had to do now. He shifted closer and took her in his arms again. He didn’t say
“I called the police sometime later,” she said. “I should have told them
everything I know, but I saw a note beside me that told me I was being watched.”
“I don’t know,” she replied. “Maybe I can’t just keep it to myself anymore.
“Sure.”
Omo’s eyes opened wide. That was an expensive thing to say and he
She hesitated before she said, “I just feel it, I just know.”
“But why would Jonathan want to join a cult?” he asked. “He had all he
wanted.”
“So who was this guy that killed him? Did you know him?”
She took herself away from him, and shook her head.
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“No, I don’t,” she said. “I don’t…and I’m scared.”
She swivelled her face in his direction, as if she had heard some strange
thing. But as he looked at him, she realised he was serious, very serious.
Omo smiled.
She smiled too and nodded. And then she said, “I really don’t know.”
And Omo decided not to push further. He remembered he still had Rachael.
If this Nonso girl refused to tell him who Jonathan’s best friend was, then he was
“Where are you going?” she asked in panic. “Are you leaving me?”
“I’ll come with you,” she said with an imploring look in her eyes. “I’m
scared.”
So he took her with him that night to Niye’s uncle’s apartment. The next
morning, he would go to Rachael and find out who Jonathan’s best friend was, and
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And as they strolled together in the deserted streets of Ekosodin, the pains
and hunger he had felt earlier in the day, and the illness and weakness, resurrected
from wherever they had been buried, and plagued him. Terribly, they plagued him.
TWENTY-EIGHT
I t was Thursday the next day, and on Monday the next week, the judge would
read his verdict. Everyone knew, of course, that Niye would be sentenced to
death. Omo had four days to pull something off. He had four days to find Jonathan’s
killer with enough proof to show that whoever it was, was guilty beyond every
shadow of doubt.
As he lay on the couch in the sitting room, staring up at the ceiling, Omo
knew he needed a miracle. But he also knew that these days, they were hard to
come by.
“God,” he whispered. “Make it happen. You know I can’t live without her. You
But there was no one to answer the question, and there was no point lying
on the couch waiting for an answer, so he rose to his feet and went over to Niye’s
room to check on Nonso. To his surprise, she wasn’t there. He was about to begin to
panic when he saw a note on the bed. He went forward and picked it up, and
peered at it.
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There was no functioning clock or watch in the apartment so Omo was at a
loss as to what time it was now. The day had started fully; he knew that, because
the sun was shining brightly. It was a beautiful day, he admitted cheerlessly to
himself.
He had one priority today and that was to know who Jonathan’s killer was.
He would go to his ex-father’s house, talk with Rachael, and work on whatever lead
she gave him. That was what he was going to do today. And his ex-father? The
ageing man wouldn’t be an obstacle. He should be at the office doing bank work.
Even his mother wouldn’t be home at this time, so he had better gone now.
But first, he had to eat. He needed a full stomach for today’s crucial
exercise. So he went into the kitchen and helped himself with whatever he saw
there. Then he stepped out of the house and headed for his ex-father’s house. At
Edo Street, he excused a young lady and asked her what time of day it was. She
told him it was nine forty-five, and he quickened his steps. Every second counts.
Few minutes later, he was at his former home. He knocked gently on the
door of his ex-father’s apartment, and shortly it was opened for him. Rachael threw
her arms around him instinctively, and breathed deeply. It wasn’t something she did
often, and Omo was somewhat surprised that she did it today. He knew she loved
him and he loved her because they were brother and sister, but the thing was that
they rarely showed it. But now she was showing it, and he was happy she was.
“Where have you been?” she asked, breaking the hug. “We have been
“I found no one there.” Omo sunk into a sofa, and Rachael observed him.
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“I’m not well.”
She moved over to him, and sat by him, and felt him.
“What happened?” he asked back. “Your father threw me out of the house,
that’s what happened. I was soaked in the rain, no food…it was hell last night.”
“I had to.”
“Oh, yes.” He nodded as if he was truly seeing reason with what she was
“I thought you have come back home to stay,” Rachael said puzzled.
She would have protested, but she didn’t. The boy wasn’t strong, so she
shouldn’t make him waste the rest of his strength on words. And since she didn’t
protest, Omo continued, to tell her the reason why he was there.
“So this is about Niye,” Rachael said. “Even after all you’ve been through,
“Was that why you told them everything?” he returned the question; “so
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Rachael turned her gaze upwards and shook her head. Then her eyes
“I know how you feel,” she said. “But sometimes, we…you just…” She didn’t
know how to frame the contents of her mind for her dear brother to understand.
“Oh, you mean sometimes we should accept that it’s over,” he helped her.
She agreed with him, but well, that was not exactly what she meant or how
she would have put it. So she didn’t nod or say or do anything to show that she
“I care about you,” she said in a deeply affectionate voice that seemed to
startle Omo. “I don’t want to lose you-we don’t want to lose you. Please Omo, move
Omo understood what Rachael was trying to say. He had little time to live
and he needed to live it to the fullest, and not waste it on some girl who was
already condemned to death. And now that he was homeless because of that girl,
his sister was afraid for him, especially when he had fallen ill. He saw reason with
He took her hand in his, and said, “I understand. But trust me, I’ll be fine.”
There wasn’t much to trust in what he had said, but Rachael knew she had
“So help me,” he reminded her. “Who was Jonathan’s best friend?”
remember. It hadn’t been too long since she had broken up with Jonathan but she
had tried in the past months to forget everything about him. And now, Omo was
making her try to remember the past, her pains. But she should, she would; for his
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“Who?” Omo asked curiously.
“There was this guy…” She was nodding slowly as it kept on coming to her.
Omo reached for his pocket to take out his jotter. The name could slide out
of his brain as he was hearing it for the first time, so he should put it down. But he
grunted.
“Could you help me with a jotter?” he requested. “And your tape recorder.”
On a good day, Rachael would never give Omo something as valuable as her
tape recorder. But today, she simply found herself nodding, rising to her feet, and
“So, you…I mean, from the evidence I have, this was Jonathan’s real killer.
Omo didn’t need to finish the question, for Rachael was already shaking her
“I have no more time,” Omo told her. “The evidence pointed to his close
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Rachael tried to think again. But her thoughts ended abruptly. Tamuno was
the closest, she knew that. And she also knew that it would be insane for him to kill
Jona.
“Sure?”
“Positive.”
Omo stared at her awhile, then he nodded. He would have to trust her sense
of reasoning.
“I know where it is.” Omo wrote it down as well. Then he lifted his face and
looked towards her. “Thank you for your cooperation,” he said. “I should leave
now.”
Rachael opened her mouth and wanted to tell him to stay, but she knew it
was needless. He wasn’t going to stay. But she remembered something at once,
and she thought Omo needed to know about it. Afterall, he had completely taken
“Osato,” she said, as he rose to his feet; “she’s at the Catholic Orphanage.”
“You would have to help me,” Omo said to Rachael. She swallowed. “Please
He smiled at her, and as she rose to her feet, he hugged her. Maybe it was
the first time he had hugged her in his life; he didn’t know. Then he glanced at the
wall clock and knew it was time he left. He broke the hug, and turned and left. He
HE WAS there at the three-storeyed building that was Biafra Hostel on Newton
Street. He realised he had forgotten to ask Rachael the room number of Tamuno’s
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room. He couldn’t go back to his father’s house and he couldn’t begin to knock from
door to door; so he just stood outside, staring blankly at the building in front of him.
Five minutes later, a young man stepped out of the hostel’s main entrance.
He was obviously a book worm student. One could tell by his very appearance: the
mighty glasses, the hair, the big bag like one of those mountain climbers. Omo
The lad hurried too, gazing at the watch strapped around his wrist.
“Excuse me,” Omo called again, and this time the young man turned, his
Omo didn’t speak until he caught up with him, and this seemed not to go
“Sorry to disturb you,” Omo began. “I was wondering if you lived in that
“Twenty-two.”
With that the lad turned, and the next second, he was miles away. Omo
shook his head at the pathetic being, and then he turned to return to Biafra. He
went in through the main entrance, climbed up the stairs at the end of the down
corridor, and found himself on the second floor. He walked down that corridor,
observing all the room numbers written at the top of the doors, till he got to room
twenty-two.
He looked up, mumbled something, set the tape recorder on record, and
knocked.
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“Enter,” a coarse voice said, without even asking him who he was.
Omo turned the handle gently and entered. There was nobody anywhere in
sight and he wondered who it was that had answered. Then suddenly, a being
appeared from behind the curtain that led to the bathroom. Omo swallowed hard at
the sight of this creature, and then he began to nod impulsively. He simply made up
his mind that truly this was the man that had murdered Chief Onaghinor’s son. He
looked it.
The being looked carefully with some sort of amusement at the thing that
“Investigator?” he queried.
He re-looked at Omo, but Omo was not embarrassed. That time was past.
“I understand you’re the closest person to one Eriso Onaghinor who was
murdered?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Well I’m afraid your late friend’s killer is still at large,” Omo continued, “and
Omo nodded and sat. Then Tamuno sat opposite him and spoke
immediately, as Omo’s presence and the reason he was there puzzled him.
“I thought that some young lady had confessed to killing him,” Tamuno said.
“Yes,” Omo agreed. “But she didn’t.” Tamuno now was obviously confused,
and Omo thought to explain further. “First, I would like you to know that that lady is
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my friend, and I know that she did not kill him. It’s complicated really, but the fact
“Well,” Omo began, “We have evidence that Eriso was killed by someone
He stopped there and observed Tamuno’s reaction. There was none. Tamuno
Then Tamuno gazed at him strongly, and Omo almost felt as if to look away.
“I was his closest friend,” Tamuno said. “But I of course did not kill Eriso.
“My friend,” He addressed Omo brotherly. “You have come to the wrong
place.”
Omo began to sweat. Things were now looking grim. He realised that there
was no way around this one. There was no way Tamuno was going to confess to
killing Jonathan just like that even if truly he had been responsible. And he, Omo,
But he held himself together and said, “Perhaps you were not the closest
then?”
Tamuno was amused, and this time he did not hide it. He laughed.
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“You don’t honestly think he was killed by a female, do you?”
“The girl in prison now for his death is female,” Omo reminded him.
“And because she’s female, you think she’s innocent,” Tamuno countered.
“I think she’s innocent because she is in fact innocent,” Omo said calmly,
and smiled.
Tamuno smiled too, and shook his head slowly. It was almost a pitiful smile.
“Do you know something?” he said. “The judge presiding over that case is
my father, and I’ll be honest with you. Your good friend is as good as gone. She is
condemned, so if I were you, I would move on with my life instead of trying to dig
up lost evidence.”
Tamuno didn’t know exactly how he was going to be of help, but the look in
Omo’s face was pathetic and desperate and he understood what the young man
Omo sighed, relieved. “Tell me about his female friends. Who was closest?”
“There was this girl,” Tamuno began. “They were dating for a while, and
then the relationship didn’t quite work. But they were always still close, I knew
that.”
“The girl?”
“Her name was Nonso. She lived there at Zenith, room ten.”
Omo was disappointed at what he heard, and thought it was time he left.
But an inner thing made him sit back there and decide to hear more.
“There was also one he was dating at one time,” Tamuno continued. “Her
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“Tell me about this girl, Nonso,” Omo said. “You think she killed him?”
“That would be absolutely insane,” Tamuno said. “She was madly in love
with him.” Then there was a change of expression on his face. He seemed to have
realised something. “It could be possible,” he said thoughtfully. “She could have.”
“How?”
“Well, she loved him and he continued treating her bad, going after other
girls. Maybe she just concluded she had had it, and decided to end his life.”
Tamuno turned his gaze to the ceiling. Then he refocused on Omo’s face.
“Who?”
“Excuse me?”
“No problem.”
Omo wrote some points down, and then he asked finally, “You think Nonso
killed him?”
Omo thanked him and left. As he walked on, headed for Niye’s uncle’s
apartment, Omo turned the conversation he had had with Tamuno over in his mind.
Jonathan was a cultist, and Nonso was a cultist too. It seemed hiliarious and he
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But he knew something now. He knew that Nonso knew a lot. He knew that
she knew much more than she had told him. Otherwise, why had she been so afraid
to talk in the first place? He knew that she was somewhat connected with
Jonathan’s death, even if she was not practically involved. Or was she?
Jonathan. He knew it was extreme for a girl to kill a man because he jilted her, but
he also knew it had happened before. And in Nonso’s case, she was jilted over and
over again. Maybe it really got to a point where she felt she could take it no more
and decided to end his life. Maybe she had gone to check on Jonathan when she
had seen Niye run out of his room that night as she had said, and seeing him
helpless, had decided to finish him up. Maybe it was really her who had killed him.
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TWENTY-NINE
B ut he was not lucky because it was not soon. In fact, the more Omo waited
for Nonso to return, the more he wondered if she really was going to return.
He fell asleep, and woke up, and fell asleep, and woke up; and yet, she didn’t
return. When it was eight o’clock, Omo became angry with her and with himself. He
should have gone to school; he should have gone to the orphanage; he should have
gone to the prison. Instead he had stayed home and waited for someone who was
Then there was a knock at the door. Omo made to rise, and realised that he
was weak again, and his head ached. So he added one note to his anger that he
should have gone to the hospital for check-up. He was hungry too. He should have
gone to Rachael for food. But now it was too late to do anything, except open the
door.
There was another knock, and Omo heard Nonso call his name.
“I’m coming,” he grunted, and realised he could barely hear himself. The
Wearily he rose to his feet and moved to the door. Then he unbolted it, and
the door flew open. Nonso rushed in like someone being chased by a ghost or
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“I was just scared,” she replied, and he shook his head, obviously relieved.
Then he moved to the sofa and lay on it. Nonso was soaked. Whatever she
lay on or sat on would become wet, and also she could not take off her clothes
because she had none else to wear. So she just stood there looking around as if
admiring the house. Omo turned and saw her. He understood instantly.
“You should change,” he said. “I think there are some clothes in there that
Nonso nodded thankfully and shivered away. Omo sat up and waited for her
to reappear, which she finally did. She stood awkwardly, looking at him. But he
knew she wanted to sit, so he shifted and she sat by him. Without warning, she
shifted closer and cuddled into him. Hesitantly, he put an arm around her.
He pitied her because he could relate with what she was going through. She
her shivering in his arms, he struggled not to conclude she was innocent. He knew
“They would come after me,” she whispered back. “I’m scared.”
She didn’t reply instantly. Omo wished he could see her face as he spoke to
“Why are you asking me this again?” There was some sort of sudden
firmness to Nonso’s voice that told Omo what he was asking was hurting and she
wanted him to stop. But he wasn’t going to; not until she told him the truth.
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She shifted slightly, gently in his arms, and Omo was sure he was getting
there. But she didn’t answer the question. Instead, she asked him her own
question.
Almost in reflex, Nonso flew out of his arms and sat bolt upright and stared
was at a loss as to why she reacted the way she did. For a moment she just stared
at him, trying to make up her mind on what exactly to say. Omo waited.
Omo was touched. He didn’t mean it that way. He only wanted the truth. But
before he could explain, she stood up and marched out of the sitting room through
He arose and made for Niye’s room. He opened the door slowly and found
Nonso lying on the bed, a pillow over her head. Omo knew she was sobbing. He
moved to the bed and sat on it and laid a hand gently on her back.
“Don’t worry,” she told him. “When the rain stops falling, I’ll be out of here. I
“Nonso!” Omo yelled, and for some reason her sobbing automatically came
to a halt like it was being played on a tape and there was a sudden power outage.
“I need you!”
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There was silence before she turned gradually, so that her stomach was
“I trusted you and told you all I know,” she said quietly. “Why do you suspect
me?”
Omo was tempted to produce the tape recorder and replay the conversation
he had had with Tamuno earlier in the day, but he resisted the temptation.
“I do not suspect you,” Omo clarified. “I just want to know the truth.”
Nonso shifted as if to leave, then she stayed still again. Obviously she was
having it tough and Omo knew she would have been out of the apartment had the
rain not been falling. But thanks to the rain, she could go nowhere.
“I would if you told me the truth,” Omo replied with equal steadiness.
Omo waited for her to speak but she didn’t. Instead she was staring at the
It seemed to get to her, and she sat up with great agility, much like a
“I don’t know!”
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“Who are you afraid of?”
“I don’t know!”
That was all the damsel could take, and no more. If Omo wasn’t ready to
believe her, then there was no guarantee he would be willing to protect her from
the powers that be. There was no point staying here any longer watching herself
being tormented by this insensitive, ungrateful person. She should go to her home,
But she should have known that Omo was not going to let her leave. As she
turned, he rose quickly and grabbed her back down to the bed. She struggled,
moaning and protesting. His grip remained hard around her. But she struggled and
struggled until she could struggle no more and became breathless. Then she began
He was catching his breath too, and his brain seemed to be beating like his
heart, thumping against his skull. Then he said again, “Tell me the truth.”
Nonso continued to sob weakly; then she whispered something which Omo
did not seem to hear very well. He asked her to speak up.
Omo clenched his teeth, and witnessed his palms gradually become round.
No one would be able to put in words the nature and magnitude of his anger
towards her, except the one up above. He would have struck her now but she was
the weaker vessel and he needed to hear more. He managed to suppress his anger.
There was real panic and genuine fear in her voice and Omo knew what he
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position, and let her head rest on his shoulder. That seemed to give her some more
reasons to cry.
“I told you to trust me,” he reminded her. “I wasn’t joking when I said it. I’ll
“You can’t,” she said. “If they come after us, we can’t fight them.”
Omo wanted to ask her again who “they” was, but he quickly decided
against it.
“Then we would do our best to fight them together,” he said. “I won’t leave
“Trust me.”
It was in his eyes this time and she saw it much more clearly than the
previous day. Not anger, but responsibility, only responsibility. In her heart of
hearts, she wished Jonathan had been like him. She had loved Jonathan with all her
heart, but he had always treated her without regard, without respect. She had
always meant little to him. But then she had continued to love him. And to prove
that she really did love him, she had had to…
Nonso didn’t want to think about it; about those things Jonathan had made
her do-things she would regret until the day she died. She rested again on Omo’s
He let her because he knew what she was going through. He let her cry.
In the midst of her own inner turmoil, she could not help but smile back, just
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“You want to know the truth?” she asked.
Nonso nodded slowly and swallowed spittle that turned to lump in her
throat. Then she looked away from him and began her story again.
started cheating on me and gave me the option of leaving him, I still loved him, and
Omo had heard all that before; she had told him that last night. What he
wanted to hear now was the truth-the things she had not told him. But she didn’t
seem willing to talk anymore. He could see she was battling with the words to say.
So he prompted her.
Omo thought his heart had stopped beating when she said those words. He
“I didn’t want to belong with them, of course you know why.” She looked to
Omo and he nodded. Then she looked away and continued. “But I joined the confra
She looked to him again, and he swallowed. He wasn’t afraid of her but the
confra she had mentioned. Everyone, as far as the University of Benin and environs
were concerned, were afraid, that is terrified, of the Outlaws Confraternity. They
were callous and evil like other secret cults on campus but they were worse than all
lethal.
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Nonso looked away again and continued. “It was horrible, even the initiation,
and I wanted to leave. But once in you cannot get out. That’s the law, so I had to
stay.”
“Why didn’t you just leave the university and go somewhere else to study?”
“They would find me,” she said. “They always would. They’re everywhere.”
“Then the time came for elections into selected offices as the tenures of
those in such positions came to an end. Somehow-I still think it was a plot-Jonathan
was elected to be the chief hit man. Previously he was a first-class messenger, and
then suddenly he was elected to be the chief hit man, second in command. Wasn’t
that a plot?”
Nonso turned to Omo and waited for an answer to the question. Omo didn’t
know whether to agree or disagree with her. He simply nodded on neutral grounds.
Nonso saw it as a form of agreement, so she turned away again to stare in front of
“Jonathan refused the position,” she said. “He just could not kill. I mean, how
could he, when he had never handled a gun before?” She shook her head ruefully.
“But they wouldn’t listen. It was unheard of in the Outlaws. Once you’re elected,
you have no choice but to accept the responsibility placed on your shoulders. But
Jonathan was still bent on not being a killer even after he was told that the penalty
“So he was given a month to make up his mind after which, if he still refused
the position, he was going to be killed by the acting chief hit man who incidentally
was his best friend. And it was he who had enticed Jonathan to join the confra in the
first place. Jonathan still stubbornly refused. I advised him to tell his parents about
it, and maybe get out of the country, but he was too afraid of what his parents
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would say or do. They might even collapse when he told them; he said he wasn’t
going to.
“And then that night your friend was there was the very night the period of
grace given him expired. It was the night he was to be killed. I wasn’t there at all, I
wasn’t there when it happened, but at about eleven there was a knock on my door.
As the password was recited, I knew it was a member of the confra who had
knocked, I knew it was his best friend; and I let him in. He told me what he had
done, and also told me about your friend, and what I should say to the police to
ensure that the investigations went the wrong way from the start, so that there
would be no link whatsoever with the confra….And that was what I did.”
She breathed in deeply and Omo knew she was done. Strangely, she had
remained calm; not a single struggle with emotions and tears. But Omo knew it was
“Do you believe me?” she asked, still staring ahead of her.
“Yes,” Omo said but it only came out in a whisper. He cleared his throat and
She knew he did, she just knew. But Omo still wanted to know who that best
confront him.”
Nonso gasped in disbelief. It was like Omo was yet to comprehend the power
of the Outlaws.
“There would be no way out,” she told him. “Even now we’re unsafe, let
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“No. I won’t do that,” Omo interrupted her. “The police will not respond. And
even if they did, they would be so slow. I have till Monday to come up with
something.”
“You’ll have to promise me or I won’t tell you anything,” she told him firmly.
“Can’t you see?” he begged. “I’ll have to do this myself if I’m going to save
my friend.”
“I won’t tell you unless you promise me you won’t confront them yourself,”
Nonso said.
Omo sighed in resignation. It was a fact; he saw it in her eyes and heard it in
her voice. She was not going to tell him unless he promised.
And she did because this time she saw that look of truth and responsibility in
She looked away from him, then she said, “He was a guy named Tamuno.”
Omo began to choke as the name she had mentioned registered in his brain.
He held his throat and coughed. She quickly put her arms around him.
happen to you.”
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“Tell me what it is,” she demanded. “Why do you have that look in your
face?”
“We are doomed,” was all she could whisper. “We are doomed.”
Then suddenly gunfire roared above the rain, and window panes began
“They are here,” Nonso muttered, her voice trembling. “They have come.”
Omo swallowed as bangs ravaged the front door. Then gunshots followed.
He was more afraid than he had been all his life, but he must survive this night.
Then suddenly the action shifted from the front to the other side of the
house and bullets penetrated the walls and window, into the room. Omo dived at
Nonso to shield her from the pellets that were flying in all directions. They rolled
over, down to the floor. Omo’s heart was beating wildly, and wondering just how
Slowly he rose to a crouching position, and began to crawl out of the room.
Nonso knew she had to follow his lead. But it was not safe in the sitting room as
well. Bullets were flying, and suddenly the door crashed open. A masked man,
Instinctively, Omo lunged at him, snarling as he did. One hand reached for
the man’s throat, and the other for the gun. The force of impact made the man
stagger backward, and Omo pressed him to the wall. Nonso could do nothing but
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Her screaming and the rain did not allow her hear him. But bullets were still
pouring in from the other side of the house, into Niye’s room. Omo knew he had
little time to dispose off this one man before the others returned. So he fought with
all the strength he didn’t have, making sure that his grip was firm on the other
man’s throat.
fading away. He released the gun and began to try with both hands to loosen Omo’s
grip. Omo let go of the gun as well and reinforced his hold with his other hand.
Omo was strangling the man like someone possessed. At the moment, it
didn’t dawn on him what he was doing. It didn’t dawn on him that he was on the
verge of taking another man’s life. What he knew was that he was trying to survive,
Nonso stopped screaming as she realised the roar of gunfire had ceased. It
could mean only one thing: the others were coming back to the main entrance.
Omo heard her and immediately released his grip on the other man’s neck.
The man slid like a snake to the floor, held his neck, and began to cough. Omo
turned, and to his surprise, Nonso was still standing there, staring foolishly at him.
But she was still there, trembling and sobbing on her fragile legs. He
reached for her, gripped her firmly, and dragged her along with him through the
place in which the front door formerly stood, into the rain.
At that moment the other masked men, two of them, appeared from the
corner of the house. Instantly they opened fire. Omo kept his grip firm around
Nonso’s wrist and made her run with him. The bullets chased after them, but there
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The more the bullets flew past them, the more Omo didn’t know whether he
was alive or dead. All he knew was that he was running with Nonso, running for his
life. And for Niye’s. So he continued to run, without stopping, until all he could hear
He would still have continued to run, but the lady by his side was exhausted.
She slumped to the ground and lay motionless, breathless. Omo too slumped
beside her. They were out in the rain but they didn’t mind. They didn’t have the
time to mind.
“They will still come,” Nonso said, panting. “No matter where we go.”
Omo suddenly realised the pounding in his head, and in his heart. He felt as
if the end was near. He felt to shut his eyes, but he knew that if he did, they might
never reopen again. And he couldn’t move. His legs were dead.
But she didn’t hear him, because of the rain. Or she couldn’t move too?
Omo wished he could give up this fight for Niye. He wished it would all end.
But he knew he couldn’t, it wouldn’t. And he knew that no matter how many
bullets, no matter how many sicknesses, no matter how many masked men, he was
“Niye,” he whispered. “I’ll get you out, no matter what they do.”
So he managed to resist the temptation to shut his eyes, and then he rose
to his feet. He pulled Nonso up as well, but she slumped back down like a worm as
soon as she reached her peak. All he could do now was pray that she was not dead.
He should run, to anywhere possible, hoping to live to see the next day and
to see Niye healthy and happy someday. And so he ran, to anywhere possible, in
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THIRTY
Niye saw a roach creep by and thought it looked exactly like her mother.
“Iye,” she called as the roach sped past her. “Stop, please. Why are you running
The roach did not stop. Perhaps it did not even hear her. After a while, Niye
replayed the picture of the roach she had seen, over and over again in her mind’s
camera, and finally decided it was not her mother. But it looked just like her
Niye shook her head sadly as the pangs of loneliness stung her deep in the
bones. Just at the moment when she thought someone had finally come to be with
her, to make her less lonely, it had turned out that that person was a look-alike, and
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But her mother was not really who Niye wanted right now; no, not at all. Her
mother was one wicked, insensitive, uncaring, and unconcerned woman. That was
why she was able to abandon her only daughter with her brother and that was why
Niye did not feel any remorse for killing her mother now. In fact she laughed
at the thought.
And that other one, Jonathan. He wanted free sex, didn’t he? He wanted to
just sleep with a girl and not be ready to bear the consequences. He wanted to
sleep with a girl, even when she clearly didn’t want him to. And because of that, he
had raped Niye and Niye in turn had killed him. Niye nodded her head proudly.
“No one messes around with me,” she said darkly, wickedly. “I am The Iron
Lady.”
Then there was her uncle. So uncaring and unconcerned, just like her
mother. But the only difference was that Niye lived with him and so expected more
of his attention than she did her mother. But he had given her little or no attention,
little or no love, little or no regard, little or no money. He had always been angry
with her, releasing all his frustration on her whenever he had the slightest
opportunity. Then suddenly, he had decided to end her life, just for no reason. Can
Niye gasped in shock as she realised, maybe for the first time, how
deranged her uncle must have been that night he had chased her with a machete.
But she too was not a fool. She had tricked him and had made him chase
her in the rain because she knew he was not strong and soon would give up. And
“Please God, let him be dead,” Niye begged earnestly. “He has to be dead.”
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Niye looked around her tiny cell where she was alone, and saw the faces of
Jonathan and her mother and her uncle emerging from the walls and begging her to
bring them back to life. Suddenly she exploded in laughter-loud and hysterical
laughter. Why wouldn’t she laugh? Tell me, why? All those foolish people who had
tried to make her life miserable, she had ended theirs instead. Wasn’t that enough
reason to laugh? Wasn’t it something to be proud of? Of course it was, and so Niye
Then again she heard a voice, a small shrill voice like someone crying. The
voice was calling her, needing her, wanting her, praying for her. Reflexively Niye
rose to a sitting position and began to look all around her, searching for the source
of the voice, like someone searching for a ghost. But there was no source; the voice
was everywhere.
Niye continued to hear the voice, but still she could not see the face of the
“Osato,” she called again. “I can hear your voice, where are you?”
Another voice floated into her ears. This one made her scream. This was the
one she wanted to hear, needed to hear, loved to hear. This was the voice of the
one she loved, wanted, needed, desired. This was the voice of an angel, the only
But the face did not appear; the voice persisted, becoming louder and
louder. The voice was telling her not to give up, that soon it will be over, that soon
it will be dawn. The voice was telling her that he loved her. And the voice remained
“I love you too,” Niye proclaimed, “but where are you? Omo please show me
your face.”
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Another voice spoke. This one was the voice of a girl, the voice of the one
who once meant the world to her. It was telling Omo and Osato to shut up, that the
fate of Niye was sealed and that they should move on with their lives.
But the other sweeter voices kept on speaking, undaunted by the third
unpleasant voice. Niye still wanted to see them, to hold them, to know that they
were there for her, with her, forever. But they only kept on speaking, their faces not
appearing. And then gradually, gradually, the voices faded away, and there was
silence. Niye shut her eyes, pulled at her hair, and began to cry.
When her eyes finally opened again, there were still tears. She laid still for a
while and let the tears fall. It didn’t take her long to figure out that she had been
dreaming.
Wearily she rose to her feet and brushed the tears off her face, and then she
moved to the barred gate and peered out at the passage. It was empty, completely
empty. No Omo, no Osato, no nothing. Niye shook her head and returned to the end
of her narrow cell and slumped to the ground. And then she started to cry for real.
It had been terrible for her in this lonely cell all these days, very horrible-the
things she had been made to do. She was constantly hungry and angry, and bitter
and crying. She had a little more flesh than a skeleton now; just a little more. Her
eyes had deepened, almost completely sucked into her head. Her hair was brown
and dirty and unkempt. Her lips were dry and peeling off, and in deed only her
breasts were still almost as they had been a long time ago.
Niye shook her head and cried the more as she assessed herself again. Her
life was miserable, she knew that. But the question now was: for how much longer?
244
THIRTY-ONE
“Omo, wake up,” Nonso was saying softly, as she tapped at Omo gently.
She had woken up a few minutes ago to find herself in a small poultry feed store
with Omo. How they had gotten there, she could not recall. But she knew they had
to get out fast before the owner of the place arrived, and as Omo was still asleep,
she had immediately begun to wake him up. But he had not stirred.
Then Nonso observed the body on the floor at which she was staring, and
stiffened. Omo was pale and white and his eyes were shut tight. Was he breathing?
Was he dead? Nonso began to shake. Nervously she bent lower and pressed her ear
against his chest. Could she hear anything? Was his heart beating? She swallowed
hard, and placed her fingers against the side of his neck. Then she withdrew
sharply.
Chills crept up her spine as the reality of Omo’s situation hit her. He was
alive quite alright, but he was in a terrible state. He was unconscious and his
temperature was high enough to bake cakes. And his eyes were shut. She needed
Nonso remained on her knees for a while and thought of nothing but death
and the Outlaws chasing after her and bullets shattering her to pieces. Her eyes
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snapped shut as if to literally keep the gruesome thoughts of death at bay, and her
mind drifted way back to the day she was initiated into the Outlaws.
saying that day. And now she had betrayed the Brotherhood, she knew her fate was
sealed. She knew she was going to die. It was no point running. They would always
find her.
She opened her eyes and stared at the remains of Omo on the floor. Can this
lifeless body really protect her like it had promised? Can he? She didn’t know. But
she was grateful to Omo because he had kept his promise, at least for once. He had
protected and defended her the previous night. And now he was unconscious. For
how long then can she depend on him? For how long will she live?
Again Nonso didn’t know, but it suddenly dawned on her what Omo needed
from her at the moment. He needed to be taken to a hospital lest he would die. She
tried to pull him up but discovered that she couldn’t, simply because she was
exhausted. He was weightless, she knew that. But she was exhausted.
So she rose to her feet and hurried out of the store. In no time she halted a
IT WAS about seven o’clock when Nonso reached Omo’s father’s apartment. The
sun was up now and the dark clouds that had been threatening to form earlier in
the day had now been relocated to the background. Nonso knocked on the door,
but there was no response. She knocked again, and when she knocked the third
“Yes,” Rachael replied, a puzzled expression on her face. “The one who
“Right.”
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Rachael was expecting Nonso to say more, but the fair girl was unwilling to
speak further. Instead, she clasped her hands together, disengaged them, and put
them by her side. Then she lifted them in the air, and put them behind her. She
“What?”
“Look, a lot has happened which I cannot explain right now,” Nonso began.
“Yes.”
“What for?”
Nonso sighed and exhaled briefly. It was clear there was no getting past
Rachael.
“Okay, alright,” she said. “Omo is right now at the General Hospital.”
“What?”
“SEE WHAT you’ve done?” Omo’s mother was accusing her husband as he paced
anxiously in the main passage of the hospital. She was sobbing as she spoke to
him. She had been sobbing since they arrived about thirty minutes ago. Her eldest
daughter was consoling her and at the same time crying with her. Nonso was
standing, her back resting on the wall and she was not crying. But she was thinking.
Omo’s father did not answer the question. He seemed lost in thought as he
continued to walk up and down the passage, waiting for the doctor to emerge from
the emergency ward and tell them the position of things-matters arising.
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“He would not be here now if you had not sent him out of the house,”
“I did not send him out of the house,” Omo’s father said calmly. “He decided
to leave.”
“Oh, is that so,” his wife exclaimed. “He just decided to leave? Without
reason?”
“Look Elizabeth, let’s not get into this,” Rachael’s father said somewhat
apologetically. “We need to focus on the future and not the past.”
“No, we would get into this,” Elizabeth protested fiercely, her voice instantly
shooting up. “Just because my son is HIV positive doesn’t mean I don’t love him
“I love him too,” her husband was forced to say. He couldn’t remember when
“What?” Elizabeth screamed in alarm. “How can you prove you love him?
Tell me, Donatus, how can you prove that you love him? By being sarcastic and
“He needed some scolding, fine! What he didn’t need is a father insensitive
to his feelings.”
“I am not-”
“Do you know what you’ve done to him? He’s lying there in a coma!”
Donatus decided not to speak anymore. He had realised by now that the
more he spoke, the more reasons he gave his wife to speak. He should shut up
“You sent him away,” Elizabeth started all over again, “because you hated
him, because he was positive. How could you hate your own son?”
Her voice was raised of course, and her husband was still pacing aimlessly,
not listening to her. People passing by would wonder who really this woman was
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talking to. Herself? That would be absurd. But Omo’s mother didn’t mind. When it
“Now look,” she continued. “He’s in a coma! He’s half dead.” Her crying
“You’re pacing around as if you’re happy. My God, you’re not even crying! You don’t
hospital. You could deal with your differences when you get home.”
“Who knows if he’ll live,” she kept on talking. “I pray he does. But if he
doesn’t, Donatus, I’ll hold you responsible. If he dies, it is you who killed him.”
Now people were gathering in bits, wondering what matters were arising.
Even patients in the wards nearby had been forced to climb out of beds to witness
Donatus had reached the peak of his anger now, and his eyes had suddenly
turned red-all red. His lips were quivering and his body was trembling. He didn’t
trust himself to say anything or do anything, so he just held himself in one spot, his
rage rotating about him. But whether he would say or do anything would depend on
what his wife would have to say. And she knew that.
“All I’m trying to tell you,” she began solemnly, “is that what you did was
wrong and you should at least own up to that fact and apologize. And you should
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“Please it’s okay now,” she said. “Let’s just-”
“And you,” Donatus interrupted her, as though he just saw her for the first
come out from the ward in which Omo was placed. Immediately, he turned and
began to stride toward the doctor even as the doctor was coming to him. The three
women with him rose to their feet. They were standing before, but now they stood
more firmly.
The doctor ignored the question and smiled. Then he stretched forth his
hand for a handshake. Eagerly, Donatus shook it and asked again how his son was
doing.
“I am doctor Sola Ola,” the doctor introduced. “And you are the father of-”
The doctor nodded, and the smile vanished from his lips and indeed his
father.
The doctor nodded again as he scanned the people Donatus had called his
family.
The doctor shook his head sadly and his face now looked exactly like tears.
Slowly, carefully, he removed the round spectacles that was over his eyes, cleaned
Nonso seemed to have sensed something that was taking the others too
long to notice. And so she suddenly found reasons to cry. She began to cry.
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Somehow her tears spread to Rachael’s eyes. Rachael’s mother didn’t need it. She
had more that enough in her eyes to spare over and over again.
“The young lady here,” the doctor began, referring to Nonso, “told me all
that happened.”
“Yes?”
THIRTY-TWO
O mo did not die. He had been in that state of coma since the night he had
protected Nonso from “they”, and even this Sunday morning, he was still
there. His mother was at his bedside in the ward and she was sobbing. Would her
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The doctor had went on the other day to inform them clearly of matters on
ground, and the future indeed seemed dim for Omo, her dearest child. Exhaustion
plus hunger plus stress plus low level of immunity; did her son have any hope? She
hoped so. At least the doctor had given them the assurance that he would not
remain in coma forever. That was enough reason to hope. But whether he would
ever be the same again, the doctor could not candidly say. Still there was hope.
And even when there was hope, there were tears. Elizabeth was still crying
because she had to cry. She was afraid of the very next minute, not knowing what it
would bring forth. It pained her that her son had been dealt with so cruelly by fate,
and she felt sorry any time she looked at him helpless on the bed by her side, his
body thin and pale. His life, fragile. She kept on crying, hanging her face
She felt a hand rest gently on her shoulder. She lifted up her face to behold
Nonso by her side, distressed. Then she looked back down and continued sobbing.
Till that very moment, Elizabeth still was unable to make up her mind as to what to
feel towards Nonso: love or hate? It was because of Nonso that Omo had had to go
through so much stress that eventually led to his breakdown and it was also Nonso
who had saved his life by taking him to the hospital and informing them. What then
should be felt towards her? Elizabeth could not immediately decide, so she
“Ma, you’ve been here since yesterday,” Nonso said. “You should go home.”
Omo’s mother lifted up her face and sniffed in her sorrows and pains. Then
“You have a family,” Nonso reminded her. “They need you too.”
“He needs me most,” she countered. “The others can take care of
themselves.”
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Nonso did not know what else to say, so she fell silent. But she was
concerned for Omo’s mother. The woman was simply taking this thing entirely
wrongly such that if care was not taken in time, she might come down with
“Ma, you need some rest,” she finally found her tongue. “Don’t worry; I’ll
Omo’s mother said nothing. She was still staring to the floor.
Omo has the slightest chance of coming out of coma before then. So what’s the
There was no point. But the problem was Elizabeth getting to her feet and
getting out. That was what was difficult. And she liked the awareness that Nonso
had brought her-that Omo was asleep. Simple. He was going to wake up. What
The older woman nodded and rose slowly, wearily, from her seat and
gestured to Nonso to occupy the vacant position. Nonso smiled thankfully and sat
on the plastic armchair. Elizabeth stood there staring down at her once agile, now
“He’ll be fine,” Nonso told her with a sweet voice of assurance. “I believe.”
Then slowly she turned and walked out the door. She looked like someone
who had lost her life in a disaster. Or she was in a coma like Omo, but in her case,
her eyes managed to remain open. Nonso watched her leave, and then it was her
turn to stare at Omo. Tears filled her eyes, but she was quick to brush them aside.
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It was time for thinking, always thinking. About death, about life, about
survival.
Nonso had continued to live in fear since the night when the Outlaws had
come after her and Omo. They had managed to survive that night, and the ones
following, but Nonso knew they wouldn’t survive for long. The Outlaws would be
assembled later tonight, and then the whole haunting experience would begin
again. She knew it because it had always been so. Nothing was done until
instructions came from above. And tonight, the hit men who had attempted killing
them would give their reports at the assembly and then orders would be given
them to continue the hunt, and then surely, Nonso and Omo would die.
Nonso didn’t think she really bothered that she was going to die. It was Omo
that she was concerned about, because he didn’t deserve to die. He was too good
to die. She didn’t want him to die. But she still knew that even if Omo were to
survive the bullets of the Outlaws, he might as well die sooner in this condition that
he was.
But he didn’t deserve to die. As she stared down at him, Nonso realised how
helpless Omo was with his eyes shut and his body tucked under the sheets. She
began to cry. She was about to hurriedly wipe her tears away but on second
thought, she let them flow. The only man she had cried for, really cried for, was
Jonathan, and that one did not deserve her tears. But look at Omo, the one who had
risked his own life to save her. Surely he deserved her tears. Why, then, shouldn’t
“Niye.”
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This time she instantly turned to Omo who was turning and groaning, as if in
pain. Nonso almost could not believe what she was seeing, but as he kept on
turning and twisting, it became clear to her what she must do.
IT WAS sometime around noon when Omo and Nonso were alone again. Omo’s
mother would have been there but she had had to go home to prepare Omo’s
favourite dish. The hospital staff had told her not to worry, that they were
responsible for their patients’ welfare and wellbeing. Of course she had not listened
to them. Rachael should also have been there, but she had had to leave for school.
A friend had informed her that the S.S.C.E results had been released. Eagerly, she
had set out to check on her result. So Omo was left in the hands of Nonso who had
nowhere to go. She should have gone for lectures, but she was too afraid to go
There was silence between them, like they were two strangers thrown
together. But their hands were locked in each other’s, squeezing each other’s,
holding on to each other. They knew they shared the same fate, and each somehow
believed that their lives and living, and survival, depended on the other.
At the edge of the bed where she was sitting, Nonso turned her head slowly
to look at Omo again, observing him. His head was turned sideways, facing the
wall; and from her point of view, Nonso could not tell whether his eyes were shut or
not. He was much less paler now as his skin colour was gradually returning to
normal. But he was lean. He was so lean Nonso thought beyond his ribs, she could
also trace the outline of his lungs and kidneys. Nonso’s eyes slid down his chest to
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“I thought you were asleep.”
He shook his head which meant he was not asleep. Then he turned again to
face the wall, his hand still locked in hers. Nonso cleared her throat.
“I want to thank you again for saving my life last night,” she said. “I am
really grateful.”
He turned again to face her, this time a weak smile on his lips.
Nonso folded her lips inwards and nodded her head. Then she spoke again.
“I’m sorry about your…” she broke off, but Omo knew what she was about to
say.
“Everyone’s got their own problems,” Omo told her. “This is mine.”
He was right, Nonso thought. Everyone did have their own problems. And for
her, it was survival. Soon the Outlaws would be after her, and her future would be
threatened. But it pained her more that they would be after Omo as well, so that his
problems were doubled. Earlier in the day, Omo’s father had gone to report the
incident of the previous night to the police. But Nonso knew, sadly enough, that
that would do little or no good at all. If anyone was going to lead the police to the
Outlaws, it was her, and that was why the Outlaws were after her. But she didn’t tell
Omo’s father she was an Outlaw. She just couldn’t. In the whole world, apart from
“What’s the matter?” Omo asked, sensing some distress on her face.
There was no way Nonso could deny. Omo was looking into her eyes and his
eyes had already found the truth. She nodded her agreement slowly.
“Don’t you think we should get the police involved now?” she asked warily.
Omo turned his gaze to the ceiling and began chewing at his lower lip.
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“Today is Sunday,” Omo told himself. Then after awhile: “Tomorrow is
Monday.”
“Monday, ten in the morning, Niye would appear in court,” Omo continued
drowsily. “Sunday…Monday.”
Nonso was forced to speak at this point. “What are you thinking?”
question.
“Excuse me?”
“No, but they will be soon,” she answered. “I think we better get the police.”
Her mind began to see Omo’s mind and although it was blurred what her
“You know those hit men that attempted to kill us,” she said slowly, “they
would have to report to the Capon and be given the complete go ahead to hunt us
down.”
Nonso exhaled. “Yes, and that’s why we should get help fast.”
Omo didn’t speak immediately. He took his time studying the pattern of the
ceiling boards, and humming a song as he did so. Nonso was impatient; somewhat
irritated the way he kept her waiting for him to say something. She spoke instead.
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“The Outlaws would be assembled tonight,” she informed him. “What we
need to do now is get the police informed and lead them to the Sacred Ground.
Omo was still staring at the celing, still humming. Abruptly his humming
stopped and his face became tense. Then he turned slowly in Nonso’s direction.
There was a confusing smile all over his face, and goose pimples rose like little
Suddenly Omo sat up, like a dead man coming back to life in one of those
ghost stories.
“How?”
“Sacred Ground.”
“Then all we need to do is get there and have the confession we need.”
“What?”
“Of course they’re going to talk about Niye when they talk about their failed
attempts on our lives, and all we’ll have to do is record tonight’s proceedings.
That’ll do it!” Omo became visibly excited. He began dancing on the bed. Other
patients in the ward turned towards the dancing skeleton. Some gasped in horror,
“We can’t do that,” she told him as a matter of fact. “That’ll be like leaping
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Omo stopped dancing and turned to look at her. The gasping mouths slowly
“Look,” Omo began slowly, “it’s our only chance. We’ve got to save Niye.”
“Then we should inform the police,” Nonso said with equal slowness. “They’ll
“You’ll be arrested should the police know you’re a cultist,” Omo pointed out.
“You are an Outlaw. You could spend the rest of your life in jail. And don’t worry
Nonso realised bitterly that Omo was right; she did not respond in the
instant. She did not want to spend the rest of her life in jail; neither did she want to
die. Omo was right. They would have to do it all alone. From the expression in her
face, Omo knew he had won. But he thought of anyone who could help him, aside
the police. Detective Udoh shot across his mind’s eye. No, that one was part of the
police. He could not be completely trusted. Then there was Barrister Maria ‘Tas.
She might have been right then, but now, she was wrong. There was no way
she could help him, nothing she could do. He was alone…to save Niye alone. The
only one who could help him was the fair Outlaw at the edge of his bed. And both of
He took her hand and squeezed it, and continued to squeeze it and refused
to free it.
“We will,” Omo said soothingly. “Believe me, we will. All we’ll have to do is to
be there earlier than them, stay out of sight and record the proceedings. Then
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But will they? Will they enter the den of death and come out alive, whole?
Will they escape the fiery wiles of the Outlaws? Will they in deed save Niye? Will
they see tomorrow? Daring not to confront the evil questions, they were willing to
try: to put their lives on the line for what was right. They were willing to save Niye,
to give her a second chance at life. And whether they lived or died tonight would be
inconsequential. What would matter most is that they did their best. The best was
So later Nonso would have to go into town and rent a video camera. Then at
night, Omo would have to escape from the security of the hospital, to the
uncertainty of the wild. And together, they would face the unknown.
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THIRTY-THREE
I t was 10:00pm and Omo’s mother was at his bedside as usual. She had been
there a little after one o’clock and had refused to leave ever since. Rachael also
had stopped by at about three, elated and ecstatic about her results. Omo was
quick to ask after Niye’s results and it didn’t surprise him to know that she came
“She should have been the best,” he had said grimly. “There must have
“Is that the next cause you’re going to fight?” his mother had asked jokingly,
Then at about five o’clock Nonso left. Six, Rachael disappeared. She had to
prepare the evening meal. Seven o’clock saw his father stroll in. He briefed them on
all the doctor had told him and how he had reported the incident of the previous
night and what the police were doing about it. From all indication, Omo would be fit
to go home soon. All he’ll have to do after that was to consume a lot of fruit and
medication, and he’ll be fine…hopefully. Omo’s father also rendered his own form of
“Anger really makes people do some things they don’t want to,” was all he
Towards eight o’clock, Donatus took his leave. And since then, till now, Omo
had been with his mother. But soon, he would leave her here all alone, and head for
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the Holy Ground, which was somewhere in the University Of Benin campus. Nonso
had given him a description and he hoped to find the place easily. He would meet
her there, and they would wait till midnight when the Outlaws would assemble.
Then they would film the assembly and leave in peace, in one piece.
Omo turned slowly to his mother who was dozing in the chair at his side.
“Mummy,” he called.
Her eyes instantly flew open at the sound of his voice and headed straight
for him. Seeing there was no cause for alarm, she asked, “What is it?”
“What’s with you and time?” she asked. “You’ve asked me this question over
a dozen times.”
Omo swallowed. It was time to move. But he hesitated awhile, and as much
as he did not want to, he thought about the future, the consequences of failure and
then Niye would live and he would be happy and fulfiled. Even if his life was going
to be short, he would like to spend it with Niye. He liked to think of them together,
of them happy. He wanted nothing more. And this night was going to decide
whether indeed there was a future for them together, or separately. Or no future at
all.
This time her eyes creaked open, as her ears tasted his voice for any sign of
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It was the first time Omo was standing on his feet in two days, and he
suddenly realised that he was still weak. As his feet touched the ground, his head
ached lightly, warning him that he was not yet altogether fit. He ignored the signs.
Gingerly, slowly, he approached the door, his mother’s eyes trailing his steps.
Reluctantly, the woman returned to her seat and watched him leave.
THE PLACE they called the Sacred Ground. It was simply an uncompleted building
in the middle of nowhere, in the heart of an intense forest. Had it been completed,
the building would have been a bungalow with four bedrooms, one kitchen, one
bathroom, and one living room. And even now, there were walls that partitioned the
house, separating it into its various componenets. The siting room now served as
the Cabinet Assembly Ground for the Outlaws, and the bedrooms were used as
storage. The kitchen and bathroom were almost useless except for private
discussions. The ground was bare but there was a roof above the house. The
rectangular spaces for windows were everywhere, but not a single window had
been fixed.
Nonso was in the darkness of one of the rooms, anxious and pacing. The
video camera she had rented was on the ground beside her and so was a torch. She
“Omo, please come,” she begged in a panicked voice. “You said you’ll be
here by eleven.”
For some reason or the other, tears were now in Nonso’s eyes, but she
wondered why she was crying. Was it because she feared something terrible must
have happened to Omo or perhaps he had found no way to escape the hospital?
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Was it because she feared that the whole operation would fail? Was it because she
was nervous and anxious? Was it because she was alone in the dark in this wild
Finally, Nonso concluded that crying was the only reasonable thing to do. So
she kept on crying. Suddenly she thought she heard footsteps. She stopped crying
and listened intently. Yes, she heard footsteps again, this time more clearly than the
first. They were getting clearer and clearer. The person was approaching.
Instinctively Nonso crouched and continued to listen. The sound got clearer and
clearer and closer and closer, and then suddenly disappeared. She waited but
heard no more. Slowly she crawled to where her torch lay and picked it up. She
opened her mouth to speak, to ask if it was Omo, or she just wanted to scream. But
she realised her throat was dry and no sound issued forth. Then she became afraid.
Her body began to tremble as she rose to her feet, and she felt her brain
evaporate. But she had to be brave, she told herself. She knew she had to be brave.
She maintained her balance and began to move warily, stealthily, into the Cabinet
The instant she stepped through the doorway into the assembly ground, an
arm grabbed her roughly around the waist and another tightened around her neck.
Nonso began to choke and her trembling became all the more severe. She made to
scream but all she produced was a series of dry, wicked cough. The grip around her
neck tightened and with as much energy as she could muster in the moment, she
threw her elbow backward. It caught the intruder on the side of his abdomen. The
intruder still maintained his grip, but when she did it over and over again, the
intruder was forced to let go. Then she spun around and smashed the torch across
the dark space in front of her. It connected with the intruder’s temple and she could
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Nervously she lit the torch so she could find her way out, but as she was
about to turn, she noticed that the person on the ground was her very own partner,
the one who had saved her life. Nonso gasped in horror as he rolled on the ground,
moaning. Hope she had not killed him. She rushed to his side and knelt beside him.
Omo heard the voice and instantly stopped moaning. He turned and realised
it was Nonso who was beside him, only Nonso. God, how close he had been to
eliminating her, and she him. How close they had been to destroying each other. So
it wasn’t the Outlaws that were going to kill them after all. It was they themselves.
The Outlaws would have simply come in and found their enemies on the ground, in
It seemed amusing; Omo began to laugh. Nonso saw the irony as well and
“Was,” he corrected.
Nonso rose first and helped him to his feet. Omo took the torch from her
“General assembly is held outside. The meeting of the cabinet is what’s held
here.”
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“So today…”
“The cabinet will meet first, and then general assembly would commence
Omo surveyed the place some more and shook his head in disapproval.
“Why don’t we just position the camera on some good spot and leave? Later
Omo was exasperated. How could she say such? How could they position the
camera and leave? What if somehow the Outlaws discovered it and smashed it to
pieces? What, then, would they do? What was Nonso saying?
“Look, if you don’t want to stay, you can just leave,” he told her harshly.
Nonso’s mouth fell open, and then shut and finally open and shut again.
Then she began to sob. Omo was beginning to treat her like Jonathan, and it hurt
her that everyone should reject her. Hurriedly, Omo moved over to her and lifted up
“This is no time for this,” he said forcefully. “They would soon be here. We’ve
Nonso knew all that, but what she really wanted was for him to put his arms
around her and comfort her and tell her she was not rejected, like Jonathan had
He let go and wiped the tears off her face. And it was she who first smiled.
Her smile was innocent and captivating, and suddenly Omo felt she didn’t need to
be there. Niye was his friend, not hers. Nonso had done her bit, she had provided
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him with all information he needed, and she had led him here. The rest was
supposed to be up to him. There was no point risking this innocent lady’s life.
“Look, I really think you should go,” Omo said gently. “I’ll do the recording
myself.”
Nonso considered his words. She really didn’t want to be there. She could
have done anything not to be there, anything to escape her fears, her past. She
really wanted to leave. But again, it was she who had started it all. Niye was
arrested because of her tip-off, her lies. And Omo had saved her life. Should she
THE SCARED fire had been lit in the centre of the Sacred Grounds. The Capon was
seated on his sacred seat. The chief hit man was seated to his left and the chief
stalker to his right. Lined parallel in front of them, in two rows and facing each
other, were the other members of the cabinet. There were eleven of them, all
Omo and Nonso were up on the roof. It was Nonso who had discovered a
hole just large enough for the camera to fit in, on the roof. But when Omo had
suggested they go up to the roof, she had been the first to protest. There was no
point arguing so Omo had set about searching for other better angles and view
spots. And as they heard footsteps and voices approaching rapidly, it was Nonso
who had been first on the roof. Omo had had no choice but to pick up the camera
and join her. It had been easy getting up there because of the spaces for windows
that existed on the walls. And once up, Omo had rolled his way to their chosen spot.
Nonso had immediately grabbed the camera, and positioned it to start filming.
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Right now, the Sacred Anthem was being sung. And as Nonso and Omo lay
on their stomachs, the edges of their bodies touching against each other, Nonso
He nodded. The anthem was long and boring, especially with the croaky
voices that were doing the singing. Soon Omo’s irritation was nearing its peak.
“Excuse me?”
Omo could sense her voice had gradually begun to rise, and for security
reasons, he decided to say nothing concerning the thing they called an anthem.
Nonso was defensive of the Outlaws and he wondered why. Maybe it’s just…
Awhile later, the anthem was finished and the night’s business commenced
in earnest. Omo could hear what they were saying below but none of it concerned
him at the moment. The wait continued until Omo became worried. They had just
one cassette capable of recording ninety minutes, and thirty minutes were gone.
“They will,” Nonso whispered back. “Just relax; the chief stalker is giving his
In the next fifteen minutes, the chief hit man was summoned to give his
report for the week. Omo’s alertness shot up to the extreme, so did his anxiety. He
swallowed hard. He had just discovered that he was afraid, but he didn’t know why.
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He found himself holding on to Nonso lest he slide down and ruin everything. But
In the Sacred Ground, Tamuno, the acting chief hit man, rose to his feet. He
“I hail thee, my master,” he began, bowing slightly to the Capon. “The last
week has been full of activity. As ordered by the master himself, the Elite Brothers
Omo was already impatient. Elite Brothers: what did that have to do with
Niye?
And he did. Somewhere around ten minutes later, Omo heard him mention
“Niye.”
was saying. “But the problem is that there are some people willing to do anything
to prove that this girl is innocent. On Thursday, a young man who claimed to be a
private investigator and her personal friend came over to my residence, and asked
certain disturbing questions.With the powers invested on me, I had to have him
stalked and tracked down, and at night the same day, I had my men have him
killed.”
“I don’t care who was involved and who was not!” The Capon’s anger had
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Tamuno knew what he had to do before it became too late.
The Capon was breathing fast, almost panting. Tamuno’s face was to the
ground as he waited for the Capon to speak. The other eleven were still, staring in
front of them, their expressions blank. But beneath the cloak of unconcernedness,
there was tension welling up in their beings. Slowly, the Capon’s breathing returned
to normal.
“How did our defences become so porous?” the Capon asked Tamuno. “How
“She obviously must have told him everything that happened on that night,”
Tamuno continued. “She must have told him that that girl in jail is really innocent
Omo almost leapt with excitement as Tamuno made the statement he had
“We’ll have to stop them,” Tamuno was saying. “They have to be silenced.”
“My master?”
“The girl will be sentenced tomorrow,” the Capon continued. “It is too late
“But they might still be bent on incriminating us,” Tamuno pointed out,
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“Very well,” the Capon said instantly. “Hunt them down. You have my
blessing.”
Omo was confused at what she was saying and why she was saying what
“We don’t have their faces,” she said, “only their voices.”
Omo’s mouth fell agape as he realised she was right. All they had was
voices and that was not enough. They had to have faces as well as voices. He ran
his hand through his bushy hair in frustration and confusion. What now could they
do? Omo turned to Nonso, searching for answers. Her face was expressionless.
Then slowly she repositioned the camera, and as she opened her mouth, Omo
But it was too late. His protest was drowned in her screaming. Below, all
eyes turned upward. Nonso held the camera in place and captured their faces.
Feets were scrambling below and Omo had no idea what was happening. But
he knew what was soon going to happen. Hurriedly he snatched the camera from
Nonso and took out the cassette. He flung the camera carelessly away.
Gunfire! Feets climbing up the wall! There was no time for explanations. No
time for statements. No time for words. Little time for action.
Omo slid the cassette into his pocket and gripped Nonso by the wrist.
Without warning, he pulled her along with him with such force that her arm almost
took leave of the rest of her body. They rolled down the sloping roof, tiny holes
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opening in front of and behind them. By the time they fell off the edge to the
surrounding bush, Omo knew he was dead. It was only when he realised Nonso was
He rose to his feet and they began running, fourteen ferocious beasts-
Outlaws-chasing after them. The bullets were missing their targets by inches and
Omo felt certain that sooner or later, they would hit the mark. But it was night and
it was dark, and everything was supposed to be invisible. How then were the bullets
It was Nonso, Omo realised. The lady had fair skin that glowed in the
darkness. As she sped past him, he grabbed her and pulled her to the ground.
He didn’t answer. There was no time for words, no need for them. Only
action.
He was crawling eastward, and Nonso had no choice but to follow him, the
shrubs and undergrowth providing sufficient cover for them, so that now they could
not be seen. Bullets were still flying, the roar of gunfire deafening. But not in their
direction anymore. Not yet. Omo wondered why it was not raining this night. It
They kept on crawling; and then suddenly, Omo began to feel his head
swell, and his body numb. His vision was getting blurrer and blurrer, and his motion
slower and slower. Tears filled his eyes, and the future became blurred. Not again,
he thought. Not now. This illness could wait a little longer. He could not afford to
He could hear her wail lightly as she stopped in her tracks. In the darkness
she felt the ground until her arm rested on him. Then she turned him over.
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“What’s wrong?” she asked in a voice laden with despair. “Omo, talk to me.”
“I feel so…”
He left the statement at that because he could not describe how he was
feeling, leaving nothing but more fear and despair in Nonso’s being. She thought he
was dead. Slowly the moon emerged from behind the dark clouds and shone on
them. Nonso realised that his eyes were open and he was smiling. God, why was he
Nonso knew she was losing him, and she would be lost without him. She
didn’t want to lose him, didn’t want him to let go, didn’t want to let him go.
“Listen,” she said, willing her voice to be stable. “You’ve got to be strong.
You’ve got to make it. I can’t go on without you…Do you hear me?”
Omo tried, he tried to hear her, but he didn’t, he couldn’t. He had suddenly
gone deaf. His eyes were shutting and opening, shutting and opening…He
struggled to keep them open. He knew it was over if he let them shut, he knew he
was gone if he let them shut. He battled to leave them open, at least a little longer.
Nonso knew the symbolism of the statement. She knew that Omo was
preparing to die. But she did not want him to die. She shook her head in passionate
disapproval.
But it was pointless. He had no choice. Slowly his eyes shut…and remained
shut. He was gone. Nonso knew Omo had left her. She knew it was over-there was
nothing she could do to bring him back. She swallowed hard and reached for his
pocket and took out the cassette. She wanted to rise but she could not. No matter
how hard she tried, she could not leave. She fell on his chest, and began to cry.
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She remembered the first time she had seen him, she remembered when he
had held her close and comforted her, she remembered how he had saved her life;
and she wept the more. She would miss him all her life…if she still had one.
The roars of gunfire had ceased by now and Nonso knew that the Outlaws
had begun looking for them. And she knew that she had to be strong. She must rise
up to the challenge, to make sure that Omo died not in vain. She must run to the
end, and make sure that Niye lived. She must get on her feet and get out the
jungle. She musn’t die. She must live, she must survive.
With great effort, Nonso wiped the tears off her face, and sat up. She stared
ahead of her and all she could see was green darkness. She knew she was lost. She
got to her feet and continued staring ahead of her. But she knew she had to go.
“I’ve got to go, Omo,” she said. But she could not bare to spare him another
Nonso looked down at the lifeless body of Omo and realised he had sat up.
Her mouth fell open, and her eyes popped out of their sockets. Was he still dead or
was he alive now? It didn’t matter. Impulsively, she threw herself at him and he
caught her and held her lest she knock him to the ground.
“I wouldn’t die yet,” he told her, a gentle smile on his lips. “I promised to
getting closer.
“There’s a way,” Omo assured her, like he had been here before. “There’s
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She didn’t know if there was a way out or not, but because Omo said there
was, she found herself nodding in intense agreement. They disengaged and Omo
And as the Outlaws continued to trail them, Omo and Nonso began running
again; to nowhere in particular, anywhere their legs led them. Whether they were
running from the Outlaws or to the Outlaws, they didn’t know. But what they knew
was that they were running to survive, running for the morrow.
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THIRYTY-FOUR
“D addy, please don’t go.” The little girl was crying as the man lying on the
bed shut his eyes. “Daddy,” she called, reaching for his hand and taking
“Get me a pen and paper,” the man said in a silent voice. “Quick.”
“Please don’t go,” the girl said as she rose to her feet and flew out the door.
In less than a second, she returned with the objects the man had instructed her to
bring. But his eyes were still shut and she feared he was gone.
He opened his eyes and took the pen and paper. Then he began writing
something down. Occasionally he would pause, force some air into his lungs, and
continue. Obviously he was having trouble breathing and he heaved a huge sigh of
relief and sadness when he finished and handed the paper to the little girl.
She took it and glanced through. It was a poem-it was something like a
poem.
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And once it was dark, there has always been the moon to usher us to sleep.
And we always slept, awaking only when we heard the cock crow
And the night seems to be longer, far longer, than the day.
Even if we find ourselves all alone in the midst of the plenty that surround
us,
Even after all our labours and pains, and sorrows and tears.
Even after all our suffering and groaning, and wishing and hoping,
When the sun shines in the sky, all that surround us in darkness.
So we wait for the dawning of a new day, a day that seems so far away.
And survive in the crazy haze that has become our world.
And when the moon finally rears its hoary head in the sky,
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And sends us to sleep,
Not all will awake to the sweet crow of the cock that has long been sought.
Hold on to life,
Hold on to hope,
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The little girl finished reading the poem and looked again at the man she
had called her father. But this time, his eyes were shut. She knew he was gone. She
held him and shook him, trying to bring him back to life, but it was fruitless because
Niye awoke slowly, with tears in her eyes. Her father was gone…gone
forever. For seven years, he had been gone, but now it seemed just like moments
ago. She bit on her lower lip as she thought about days long gone, days never to be
forgotten. The days when she had dreams and hopes, the days when she had life,
the days when her father was alive. The days she wanted back but could not have.
She shook her head sadly, as she thought of the miserableness of her
present life. And for the first time in a long time, Niye remembered there was
Someone she had trusted, loved, and feared all her life. Someone unlike anyone.
Slowly she went on her knees and looked up to the heavens-to the ceiling.
“God,” she called, and the tears began to fall. “I trust in you God,” she told
him. “I believe you can save me. I do not blame you for all the things I’ve been
through, I do not accuse you for my predicament. But I want to live again; I want to
live for you. Give me the life that I know you have in abundance. Give me a second
She allowed herself to fall to the ground and started crying aloud. She
wailed.
There was less than a day to find out if she would live again. This night
would be the longest in her entire life. But she cried. Throughout the night, she
cried, for the life she once had and the one she wished to have. It was a day away,
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THIRTY-FIVE
T he courtroom was full to overflowing. It was not yet nine o’clock but the place
was already jam-packed. The podium was empty and so was the witness
stand, but it seemed like the day’s proceedings had already begun in earnest. Chief
Onaghinor was there, seated in the front row, his face like stone. But his pot belly
was full of activity as it shot forward and backward, the movement synchronized
with each inhalation and exhalation. His wife was on his left-hand side and Tamuno
was on the right. Tamuno’s face was sober and serene. He had lost his dearest
friend to a cold-blooded murderer and nothing would please him more than to see
the killer being sentenced to death. The police commissioner was seated on the
second row of seats, just behind Chief Onaghinor, and his face was blank and
expressionless.
The prosecution lawyers, their desk just in front of Chief Onaghinor, were in
a state of extreme joy. Seeing them, one would think they were all celebrating their
birthdays on the same day: the way their mouths opened wide in cackles and their
hands reached out and shook each other’s vigorously. Their feets were stamping on
the floor as if in protest to something and their heads were nodding like a lizard’s.
Maybe it’s more than their birthdays; it’s their wedding anniversaries.
To their left about two metres away Barrister Maria ‘Tas sat alone at the desk
meant for the defence. She was swallowing over and over again, and with shaky
hands, she reached inside her handbag and produced a handkerchief with which
she mopped up tiny beads of perspiration that had formed on her forehead. She
was afraid, and nervous and anxious. She had the right to be, as Omo was nowhere
to be found.
The courtroom of course was filled with people from all works of life and in
any social class possible. The media was hovering about the interior and exterior of
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the courtroom and indeed the entire premises, ready to pounce on anyone that
meant anything to them and the society at large. Suddenly a Black Maria swerved
into the premises, and the media attacked at once like a troop in a battlefield. The
When it was exactly nine o’clock, there was a loud bang on the door, and
emerged from an inner room and moved into the podium. He gathered his red robe
together, and sat on his seat. The court was utterly silent as the judge surveyed the
congregation with his piercing eyes glittering behind his huge spectacles. Then the
Barrister ‘Tas had already drifted far away. She knew it was over because the
judge was wearing a red robe, and that judges did only when a death penalty was
going to be delivered. She felt a certain sense of failure and impotence. She felt
sympathy and pity, and she felt miserable. She thought of her career, if it would
Tears began to form in her eyes as Niye was led in through an upstage left
door. Look at the damsel, horrible and haggard like a mentally deranged person
allowed to roam the streets. Look at the damsel, lean and bony like one of those
refugees in a third world country. Look at the damsel, sick and weak like one of
those AIDS patients destined to die the next day. Barrister Maria shook her head
Niye, her wrists and ankles bound, stepped into the dock and peered around
anxiously but she didn’t find her darling. She smiled ruefully and hung her head
downwards. She knew her fate now, especially with the robe of the judge, and she
had to accept it. It had been a long journey so far, and it was sad that she had
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come to the end of the road. She was going to die and there was nothing Omo
could do about it. He had tried though-she knew he had tried-but still he could not
“…a two count charge of murder in which the witness openly pleaded
But Niye was not listening. She was thinking about Omo, his life without her.
She hoped he was still alive. She prayed he should be happy. She wished he would
live long. And she thought of Osato as well, her little princess. The young girl was
now somewhere in an orphanage, or was it a zoo. There were many things to wish
for Osato, but above all, Niye prayed that her little cousin did not go through the
same experiences as she. She prayed Osato’s life was blissful and straightforward.
“In the given circumstances and with the substantial evidence provided,”
No need for those anymore. It was over. It was time to rest forever.
“I hereby declare the accused…” The judge paused and surveyed the
congregation again. Some were shaking their heads, others were already crying
and yet others just stood there, their arms across their breasts, their faces saying
nothing. Tamuno was smiling, more of smirking, and the prosecution were nodding
their heads. They were enjoying the show. Chief Onaghinor’s belly was all that
showed he was alive. Otherwise he was dead. Barrister Maria ‘Tas was weeping
silently. She looked all around again, her eyes scanning every face. Omo was still
absent.
The judge held his spectacles in place and turned his face downward to
pronounce the ultimate sentence. Niye glanced around once more. Her darling was
nowhere to be found.
No need for those anymore. It was over. It was time to rest forever.
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“I hereby declare the accused guil-”
“Wait!”
The judge instantly looked up as the multitude turned to the main entrance
of the court, the same expressions of surprise and confusion mixed with
amusement on their faces. Two teenagers looking like soldiers who had barely
made it from the battleground alone, were staggering down the aisle, the male
Niye turned in the direction of the aisle and immediately became stiff. It was
Omo, she realised. Omo had made it. Look at him so haggard and old. He was
almost half dead. It was Omo. God! It was Omo…Her mind suddenly went blank.
No, it disappeared completely from her head and her heart deflated as her body
vibrated.
All that was on Barrister ‘Tas’ face now was the same confusion and surprise
on the faces of the multitude, but in her case, it was blended with acute horror. She
had anticipated Omo’s arrival but now when he had arrived, and with the way he
looked, she wondered where ever he was coming from and what ever he could do
to turn the tides in Niye’s favour. Tamuno’s face radiated despair and shock and
disbelief. His jaw was sagging now and his eyes were squinted.
Omo and Nonso staggered their way to the front of the court and stood
between the prosecution and the defence, like they were trying to be on neutral
ground. Law enforcement officers were already ready to whisk them away but as
Omo lifted up his face and looked up the judge, the man in huge spectacles
“She…” Omo trailed off and coughed. The lady by his side seemed helpless.
She just watched him till he was done. “She’s…not guilty,” he said finally.
The judge reclined in his chair, as huge murmurs began to spin from the
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murmured, concluding that that alien in human clothing in front of the courtroom
The judge ordered for silence, and then he lifted his pen to the side of his
One of the prosecution lawyers was shooting to his feet when the judge
“Here it is,” Omo continued, producing the cassette from the deep hole in
his trousers.
Murmurs again, loud enough to pull down the house. Tamuno jumped to his
feet as if the chair had suddenly become too hot to sit on.
“It’s in here,” Omo said, waving the cassette for everyone to see. “He is a
cultist…”
More murmurs.
“They held their meeting last night and discussed the killing of Eriso
Onaghinor.”
Shouting.
Wailing.
All eyes turned to the judge, and he stared back, a lost look in his eyes. He
could not as yet understand or believe the revelation he was hearing. His own son a
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cultist? A murderer? Someone had to say something. The judge’s eyes turned
Tamuno seemed to lose balance the moment his father’s eyes rested on
him. He could hardly think. But he had to say something for himself. He had to
prove himself innocent, that Omo and Nonso were lying. But since his mind was
now blurred, the thoughts that flew across it were as well blurred. He didn’t mind.
“It was you who was up there filming us,” he said in a shaky, nervous voice.
“But we searched the forest for you, we looked everywhere. You were lost. How did
His body was trembling in fear and he looked like someone ready to faint.
But the eyes remained on him. Was he babbling or what? The congregation wanted
to know. His father needed to know. The media was anxious to hear. But he said
nothing more.
Nothing more.
Tamuno knew it was over. He could not deny. The cassette was evidence,
my best friend. I would never have taken his life on my own. And if I refused to kill
The multitude turned again to the judge and waited for him to speak. The
judge looked around and around and around, and up and down and sideways, and
opened his mouth to speak. Suddenly his body froze like one caught in the middle
of a hiccup, and then he fell out of his seat, backward, to the floor behind him.
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The press lunged forward, the multitude scattered in confusion. Tamuno was
about to scatter with them but he was quickly apprehended and cuffed. Barrister
‘Tas was on her feet, motionless, fresh tears running down her face. These were the
tears of joy. Nonso held Omo up as he turned to the witness stand and gazed at the
Chief Onaghinor sat motionless in his seat. He was staring in front of him,
calm on the exterior but inside he was in turmoil. He could not comprehend all that
had happened in such a short time. But he felt sympathetic towards Niye as he
looked at her. She had suffered so much just because he had wanted her to,
because he had thought she had killed his son. But as it is now, she was innocent.
He knew the least he could do was to make sure that he made up for his ignorant
father to her if she would let him, if she would forgive him.
Omo staggered and pushed through the throng, leaving Nonso behind to
stare. He pushed until he reached the witness stand, facing Niye, the one he loved.
Niye was still smiling at him, and crying. Her mind would go blank again any
moment, she knew that, but she was willing to force it to retain data for as long as
she could stand. These were the time for tears. Only for tears.
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THE END
N iye was lying at the end of her cell as it dawned on her that it was dawn.
Lazily she rose to her feet and moved to the gate to peer out at the corridor.
It was silent, no soul on it. Expressionless, she returned to the end of the cell and
slumped to the ground. Her mind was quick to drift away to all that had happened
It was one hell of a life for a teenager, she concluded. One hell of a life.
But she was happy it had been like that, this her life. She was happy she had
had to suffer all the pain and all the troubles when she was a teenager. At least now
she knew what it meant to believe, to dream, to hope. She knew what it meant to
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trust, to sacrifice…to love. Now she knew what it meant to live. She had made her
mistakes, she had cried many tears, had suffered much torture. But still she was
happy because now she was fulfilled. In the midst of it all, she had stood her ground
and had refused to give up even when it seemed there was nothing better to do.
That was the fulfilment. To her now, the beauty of life lied not in riches nor in
possessions, but in the joys of victory. The overcoming of temptation. The binding
of love. Those were the things that counted most in life. And Niye was glad she saw
them before it was too late. She was glad she saw them now when she was a
teenager. And she was glad that there were days ahead to learn from her mistakes
and experiences. Days to start all over again, to live her life the way she wanted, to
Niye was forced out of Thoughtland by the sound of footsteps in the corridor.
She didn’t get to her feet to peer out. There was no need for that. She simply
The person kept on walking down the corridor till he reached Niye’s cell.
Slowly, as if reluctantly, Niye picked herself up from the floor, and started to
walk towards the exit. Her eyes were swollen like she had just been roused from
sleep. The officer opened the gate and Niye stepped out. Then he locked it again.
Niye stood on the corridor and stared into her cell. She saw the roaches
dancing about, and the ants faithfully trailing each other on one straight line that
led out of the cell, and the rats eagerly searching for anything edible. This was the
place that had been her home, this small cell. For one reason or the other, she
began to cry.
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But Niye didn’t cry for long. She gently shoved his hand aside and said,
The man nodded and led the way. Niye followed behind him. She reached cell
number nineteen and peered inside. This was the place that had once been her cell.
This was the Dungeon of the Bones. She scanned the ferocious faces. They were all
looking different than the last time she had seen them. They were all different
Beauty was at one corner of the cell reading a book. The rest of the cell was
quiet. Beauty looked up. Instantly, a bright smile spread across her face. She rose
to her feet and rushed to the barred gate and held on to Niye’s hands that were
“I’m so happy for you,” she said. “You really don’t belong here.”
“Neither do you,” Niye informed her. She lifted her hand and touched Beauty
on the cheek. “I’ll get you out of here,” she said. “I promise.”
Beauty only nodded and continued to smile. What else could she do? Tell
Niye let go. Then she turned and followed the officer out of sight. The
Protocols were observed and them finally before she stepped out of the
prison, her cuffs were loosened. She was free. Niye was free. At the moment there
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“Where is Omo?”
She nodded and began walking towards the main entrance of the prison.
She quickened her steps as the excitement and anxiety and eagerness grew in her.
He waved at her once she was outside, but he was not alone. Chief Onaghinor was
there too, and so were Rachael and his parents, and Nonso. Barrister ‘Tas was also
there. But it was only him Niye saw, only him she wanted to see.
She was walking at first, and she wanted to remain walking. But there were
changes rapidly taking place inside her. There was an urging, a feeling, a longing, a
desire to reach out and hold and cherish forever. She wanted no more.
Niye found herself running now, running at full speed, running to Omo. He
waited, his arms spread out, his lips quivering, his tears forming; in anticipation of
the one that loved him. She ran straight into him. She should have toppled him
over with the force of impact, but he stood his ground and wrapped his arms
around her, squeezing her into him. She was crying now, profusely; the tears just
“It’s over now,” he was telling her as his arms ran the length of her back, to
“I love you, Omo,” she said without hesitation. “I love you with my life, with
everything in me.”
Omo could not find his voice. All he could do was continue to cry. All his
sufferings, all his pains, all his sorrows; they had finally paid off. She was free at
last, vindicated by faith. But now when she was in his arms, Omo wondered if he
could ever have lived without her, if his life would have been better if he hadn’t
suffered for her. It was a bitter experience, but he knew he was happy he had done
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it. He was happy he had her. So he just held her close, and they both continued to
cry.
Everyone stood still, even the sun and the celestial bodies, even the world;
they all stood still and watched. No one would interrupt this moment, no one at all.
Barrister ‘Tas was crying now as well, Rachael was crying, Nonso was crying…
everyone was in tears. No one could resist, no one could hold back. They all cried.
But this moment had to end. Sadly enough, it had to end. They had to leave.
But Niye still wanted to hold him, to feel his touch, his love. She wanted to be with
him, forever. He was HIV positive, she knew that; but hey, what’s the big deal?
division, because she knew he would survive, that they would grow old together.
She knew it would be so because she wanted it to be so. It was her choice and
“Carry me, Omo,” Niye replied with a smile. “Please, carry me.”
Her toes were almost already off the ground in anticipation. With a little
more effort, she would begin to fly. But without hesitation, Omo swept her off her
feet, into him arms. She was horizontal across his chest, one of his hands at the
back of her neck and the other behind her knees. To hold her this way, to feel her
this way, to see her this way, was all he wanted and…nothing more.
As he began to walk away, all the others knew it was time to leave and
Niye shut her eyes and savoured the contact between them. There would
still be so many things to say, so many things to do, so many more tears to cry, so
many more stories to tell, so many more people to find. But right now, Niye slid her
arms around Omo’s neck and gripped him tightly. She knew that she was holding on
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