THE LOST VOICE (A Short Story)

LIFE they say is a mystery. It is always an adventure where the fear of the unknown either makes you or mars you. A feeling so strong that what you plan usually isn’t what you get and then you ask yourself what really is the problem and the reply is the usual adage we get to hear “Man proposes, God disposes”. Sitting close to the window, usually cold at night and the fog masks the window glass making my view of the outer yard unclear. The stench from this room could at least be a better conviction to death than the courtroom verdict. Human beings being packed together like sardine in the Titus tin, but some of the girls here are used to it. Deep down in my heart I wished someone could visit me just like the other prisoners who had their loved ones around once in a while.

The lost voice

After the incident I became withdrawn to myself and was unable to get close to any of the prisoners. Remembering how my entire life was judged in that courtroom and when my case was called: Adaora Peters v. The State; cold chills ran down my spine. Memories of that incident brought tears to my eyes. How the tall dark man listened to my tale dispassionately without any remorse to the way I felt? But come to think of it, am I really guilty of murder? The words of the judge kept on resounding in my head though I can’t remember the particular words used on that day, he said:

“Life is itself a divine gift: God has commanded that “you must not kill”…..Murder is a
disastrous act……..if the latter’s act is adjudged to be unlawful or unjustified……..”

These words really had me thinking for a while in the court room then he looked me right in the eyes and uttered the final words:
“ this is the purport of Section 306 of the Criminal Code (applicable in the southern
states of Nigeria) which provides that “ it is unlawful to kill any person unless such
killing is authorized by law” and this is backed by Section 33 of the 1999
Constitution of the Federal Republic Of Nigeria……….……..but in
the case before us it is obvious that there was an intention to kill based on the
evidence adduced with that I find you guilty as charged. Thus should be sentenced
as appropriate……………….”

What really is my offense?

It was a hot afternoon, after the inspiring homily from the officiating priest whom every parishioner always look forward to his coming. Mama and I were walking home, humming the closing hymn “I have decided to follow Jesus…….”, as we got home mama opened the door, dropped her bag on top of the standing shelf and called me to come pull off my cloth. Papa never went with us to church, he changed drastically; his incessant drinking was always a great concern to mama and the whole neighborhood. Most times, he fell and slept in the gutter left to the mercy of passersby who help to bring him home. Everyday thought made her look like a ghost and of recent was diagnosed of hypertension.

I remember how mama was when Nnanna was born, full of life and flesh.

Life was fun then not until the man who took away sleep from our eyes came along, his name is Mr. Godfrey Okeke. He promised to issue mama tickets to UNITED STATES OF AMERICA due to the ongoing visa lottery as at the year 2001 and convinced her to bring One Million Naira (#1,000,000). He convinced her into believing he helped mama Ngozi, who lived down the road to get her ticket. Unknown to mama, mama Ngozi went to America with her family due to the promotion her husband received. Beclouded by the serpent’s demand, mama tried every possible means to convince papa.

At the end, she succeeded into making him ask for his salary upfront at his place of work. Our plasma television with other electrical gadgets and furniture were sold in order for us to have something to fall back on when we get there. Our clothes were being given out and mama sold some of her wrappers because there won’t be need for it any longer when we get over there.

We spent the whole night counting and arranging the stacks in the leather bag papa brought home. The next morning, mama with a lifted spirit and happy heart rang Mr. Okeke to come pick it up. He came as soon as mama dropped the call and assured mama that in a weeks’ time she will surely get her ticket by mail delivery at our doorstep. We were excited by such wonderful news and broke the news to everyone who was within our reach. They also celebrated with us. Days were running fast. Then mama and papa decided to take us out to have our last outing in Lagos as one family.

Our joy turned sour when throughout the week there was no forthcoming mail delivery. Until one Sunday afternoon when mama instead of the expected mail delivery received a text message from Mr. Okeke. The sight of the name made her heart leap for joy because it was a sure assurance that all was well as it was part of the sluggishness of the Nigeria Postal Service in dispatching letters which they received.

On reading the text message, the smile and anxiety on her face started drifting away to confusion then she fainted. We all rushed to her side to revive her by sprinkling water on her face. On bringing her back to normal, she was unable to recount what she read. Then papa took her phone and went through the letter bomb. His response was more controlled than mamas’.

Nobody knew what Mr. Godfrey bore in mind; he came as a saint always on his suit with his stripped tie and well-polished shoes. In his suitcase contained fake papers of people whom he had helped in the past years. It was then we realized that Mr. Okeke used mama as a conduit pipe to his promise land.

The shock and the shame caused by such disappointment shattered the once shared happiness in my house. Papa, who asked for his salary upfront, was barely able to go about his business as usual and so his employment was terminated. Mama on the other hand, was a full time house wife who barely had the expected educational qualification that will land her a good job. The hardship kept on accumulating and we were evicted from our house to a one room apartment in the rural part of Okokomaiko in Lagos State.

The good life had become a thing of history and all I could do was to cherish the moments in my head where it has got stuck. We fed from hand to mouth. Most times my brother and I went to school on empty stomachs as there wasn’t any hope of seeing our next meal. The little papa could get he spent on liquor. There was nobody to help us as both mama and papa were the only surviving hope of their dead parents. Fortunately, both had AS genotype and I ended up inheriting AA while Nnanna had SS. So whenever Nnanna had his usual sickness, same treatment was given to him as both parents knew the solution even before it became serious.

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