Joseph and Bayo rushed me as if their lives depended on who got to me first. Joseph shoved my head down and rammed his knee on my back while Bayo packed my legs together, his rough hands holding them in a vice's grip. I stayed in that position, making no effort to come off their grip. I felt warm all over and my heartbeat slowed to a regular beat.'To the...the wall,' Dracula shouted. 'His...his back to...to...to the wall.'Joseph jerked his leg away from my back and Bayo threw my legs into the air and they fell on Mr. Potter's motionless body. Joseph dragged my arm, pulling my body along. He brought me close to the wall and stood between the wall and my back. Then he held my hands, twisting them upward on my back. 'Don't struggle, or I break your arms,' he croaked into my ears. Bayo clamped my legs to the floor again and Dracula bent over me, pointing the snake down at my face. The snake hissed and more slime dropped from its mouth. I saw the inside of the mouth, the pinkish and fu
I trekked in darkness for close to an hour before I reached Ekpe. I tried to stop some cars on the Ekpe-Ajah Road but all of them sped pass as if I was waving a gun. I walked on, keeping company with occasional rodents crossing the road and the hundreds of crickets chirping good nights to me as I walked pass. My hand had grown to about twice its normal size. The stump had turned dark brown with the caked blood and seeing the empty space in the middle of the hand forced tears out of my eyes. The thought that I could fall down at any moment did not bother me as much as the thought that I had become a disabled man with nine and a half fingers. I remembered what Eric told me about a lot of Northerners staying in Mile Twelve the day I came to Lagos, and I made up my find to get there. I walked on, with not a dime on me, but with the determination to get out of Lagos that night.I reached Ajah, went passed the market and stood by the road waiting for the appropriate bus to come. I stood fo
I crossed the expressway and entered the tomato market with my cheek still numb as if a Dentist just finished a tooth extraction on me. I walked through the market, avoiding the potholes filled with muddy water and the people entering and leaving the market even at this time of the night. I reached the tomato truck garage, where the trucks transporting vegetables from the Northern part of the country park. The ground here was muddier, and the smell of rotten tomatoes and cabbages filled the air. I stopped in the middle of the park, looking around, trying to decide who to meet and ask my questions. My eyes eventually rested on the three men sitting on a bench, conversing in Hausa.I took a deep breath and walked toward them, sidestepping the muddy patches on the ground. I reached the men and by this time my shoes were heavier, and their color had turned to brown. I hid my mutilated hand by the side of my leg.'Good evening,' I said in Hausa.'Good evening,' two of them replied in uniso
I swayed to the right and to the left with each turn the truck took until my body ached to no end. The smell of vegetables remained with me throughout the journey and the planks under me creaked with every movement and bit my buttocks occasionally. The moon came out later that night and kept me company to the early morning hours. I looked at my hand in the darkness. I couldn't see it, but I felt the throbbing pain like the pain from a bad toothache. I fell asleep again a couple of times but the pain and the bites from the planks forced me awake to discover we had reached Lokoja. I couldn't tell what the time was, but I guessed it was around three in the morning. Sani parked amidst the other trucks, lined up beside the expressway. I stood up and stretched, feeling the cramps biting my legs. Voices came from the front of the truck, and I walked to the back to find out what was going on. The town was awake, and people moved about as if it wasn't the middle of the night. I saw Sani walk
I lifted the foot mat in front of the house and found only grains of sand under it. I held the door's knob and twisted; the door did not bulge. I held it with my left hand and leaned against the door, exhausted and wondering what to do. Mom would be at work and my brothers would have gone to school. No one knew I was coming, and no one left the spare key under the foot mat.I remained this way with my head pressed against the door. Then I heard a faint sound inside the house, and I listened. The sound turned into footsteps, and they drew nearer to the door. I heard the turn of the key on the door, and it swung opened.Jasper's eyes widened and a huge smile spread over his face.'Big Brother,' he cried, and hugged me. 'Welcome back.''Thanks,' I said, stretching my hand away from his body. 'Are you alone?''Yeah,' he said, pulling back. 'You didn't call to say you were coming. How was Lagos?''Fine,' I said, following him into the house. 'I lost my phone.''No wonder,' Jasper said, dra
Mom was waiting in the emergency room when we got to the hospital. She stood between two doctors, speaking to them, her back turned to us. I saw a hospital card in her hand and knew—the way you know you had stepped on a nail barefooted—that she had gotten the card for me as if I was a baby that couldn't do it himself. 'Mom,' Jasper called, and she turned.She walked to us, and I could see her face crowded with worry. She stopped two steps away, her eyes searching my face. I don't know what she saw—maybe the anger and the frustrations—but she came no further. The doctors she was speaking with walked past her and came to me. One of them, a man in his late fifties or early sixties, held my and lifted it up. 'Your mom told us what happened,' he said, peering at my hand. 'Come with me,' and he pulled my arm to follow him the way a teacher would pull a naughty student to the principal's office. 'Let me take a look,' he added. The second doctor, obviously a junior to the first, followed
It was Mr. Potter's face on the front page of the New Standard newspaper that caught my attention. It was the second day of my stay in the hospital, and I read the heading with a skipping heart. Four kidnappers killed, a Briton freed, it heralded. Mr. Potter's pink face covered a quarter of the front page while the picture of four corpses was inserted below his chest. The face of a police man was the fourth picture on the front page. 'Excuse me sir,' I said to the nurse holding the newspaper. 'Please can I see your paper? I just want to read the heading.''Sure,' he said, coming toward my bed. 'But it's stale; keep it if you want to.''Thank you, sir,' I said, and stretched my hand to collect the newspaper. The infusion set drew my hand back, but I manage to pull the paper back to me. My heart pounded and my throat felt dry.'Be careful,' the nurse said.He came over and pushed the metal pole holding the infusion set back to its legs. Then he dropped the newspaper on my lab. 'Like I
I heard a knock on the door one Tuesday evening six months after I left the hospital. I looked at the time and knew mom was at the door; it was the time she got home from work every working day except some emergencies kept her. I opened the door and mom walked into the house with Maria trailing behind her. I gaped at Maria for many seconds while my heart ran a hundred meters race.‘Hello, Paul,’ Maria said, standing by the door, a big bag strapped around her shoulder. She wore a tighter Jeans than the ones I had seen her in and the T shirt hugged her closer and tighter, as if it was another layer of her skin. I opened my mouth to speak, but the thoughts of all the things that happened in Lagos flooded my mind and cut off the words from my throat.‘Do you know her?’ mom asked. She stood in the middle of the living room, her eyes searching my face.I nodded. ‘Well, ask her to come in and sit down.’ I moved away from the door. ‘Come in,’ I said.‘Thank you,’ Maria said and walked into